Moving Along

i've missed some time, i know.  i'm sorry, but i'm still putting myself back together again.  it's going to take a little time. 

keeping it simple for now.  it's Wednesday, middle of the week.  i've kept it low-key lately, trying to just take care of the basics.  getting up.  getting a prayer in.  taking meds and washing my ass.  driving safely.  being patient with the clients.  trying not to get too tied into the bullshit that's happening at work with the changing of the guard.  dealing with the inanities of my co-workers as they clamor for position with the new ops manager.  it's just fucking ridiculous, but it happens everywhere so i might as well accept it. 

not going to columbus this weekend, but i'm going to take some time for myself.  i have to.  i need to not be around people for a brief moment.  been no room to inhale and exhale.  but i have to start getting ready for the end of November.  the so-called 'holy'day, our meeting anniversary, my own sober anniversary...shit to do, and there will at least be some days off work, which is a blessing.

i am okay.

i have to remember that. 

and i really am moving toward that.  just weary.  i think.

anyway, just wanted to drop something here, so i don't do the whole fade. 

thank you, Father, for the day.

Return to Routine, pt 2

 well, it's monday now.  a new day.  a new reality.  something gone, something important, something vast in my own reality.  but...something here, something new and different and something vital, something that has to be maintained as well.  continuance.  a very important thing to remember in the coming days that remain.  

and it is about the days that remain.  it's about what time is now, and what time is approaching, if i am blessed (?) to awaken to it.  it is about being awake, not lulled by my stomach or my groin, not seduced by the ease and popularity of stupidity, but awake and alert to the changes that the wind brings.  'you don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows'.

yesterday was just a journey.  it was going on with life.  going to breakfast with Marc.  going to my Sunday meeting.  going to the grocery store.  making dinner for Syd and Joe and Timothy.  talking to Lonnie and Rachel.  calling my mom.  thinking about Johnnie.  grooming for today.  reading and thinking, hearing verses and voices and allowing both to speak in my head, to see what stories i should be working on.  it's what life is, it is what it is.  

like, i was thinking this morning; we took up a collection to send to World Service as opposed to donating to Nancy for Johnnie's passing.  and i thought, how big did he get in the Fellowship?  and i know he was bigger than a lot of people knew.  but that didn't matter.  it didn't matter to him, and it doesn't matter to people now.  time passes and even presidents become notorious or irrelevant on the basis of the skew of human perception.  but he supported the foundation of genuine recovery all his sober life, that i know.  and that's reason enough.  

i hope my grandson never has to rely on the shambles of a 12-step program.  i hope he never finds himself with an addiction and has to try to muddle through the bullshit and stupidity that greed and arrogance has reduced the Program to.  but if he does, i hope that someone like my sponsor is there for him, to help him sort through the chaos and find the thread of order to guide him through the days and months and years to come.  that would be good.

prayers for Maryanne, as she needs them.

i have to get going.  time to make the day move.  

Thank you, Father, for seeing me through the weekend, and back to the daily grind.  

Return to Routine, pt 1

sunday morning.  i feel hungover, and i guess in a way i am.  hard days end in 24 hours, just like good days do.  and if one is blessed (?) to awaken in the morning, or whenever, another 24 hours is in the process of rolling out. 

time to put on coffee.

i am home.  i am waking to a new day.  october is nearly done, and what an october it was.  what a year it was.  looking at this little guy, my new namesake, it dawns on me that this will be one to remember in so many ways, The Good, The Bad, The Ugly.  my grandson was born, my sponsor died, and I have cancer.  strange days, indeed, Mr. Lennon.

yesterday i was wrecked.  i thought i was ready.  but you can't be.  not when the love saved your life.  not when it was the life preserver you held on to through years of wanting to just let go and slip beneath the waves.  can i really recall how much of me Johnnie was there to help build?  not the writing, not the poetry.  any confidence i have though, the people skills, the ability to 'see' (his refinement), the desire to see something through to the end, the inability to just...quit.  those things and so many more.

i always remember when i started dancing again.  i had stopped because of a childhood humiliation at the hands of cousins and an unsupportive (in THAT moment) aunt, ironically right down the street from where i now reside.  i had stopped for years.  fat guys shouldn't dance; they will just suffer humiliation.  but i would watch at the recovery dances (which no longer take place, by the way), i would watch the people moving to the music, and i'd hate them, and i'd hate myself more.  i would do all the peripheral shit; sell tickets, watch the money, keep the coffee brewed, set up, clean up.  but i was afraid to dance.  after one dance, Johnnie took my back to my parent's house, and i was talking to him, telling him how i was feeling like a coward, trying to find some sliver of indifference, of insouciance to mask the shame and misery i felt.  sitting in my driveway, Johnnie told me, in deliberate terms, i was going to the next dance, and i was going to dance, and he turned in his seat and looked at me and said, ''...because, you don't want to keep feeling like a coward." the timing of my words being given back to me, the way he cut through my bullshit back to the reality of the issue, reduced me to tears.  next dance, though, he had two blondes come over to me, coax me to my feet and get me to dancing.  i never stopped.  never wanted to.  i've held dances myself, paid out of my pocket, just to have the joy of seeing people enjoying themselves as i learned to enjoy myself. 

he wasn't God.  i don't blaspheme; i'm not a hypocrite.  i don't denigrate either. he was, in my life, the tool that my Father seemed to use most and best to keep me growing and going, and i miss him now that he is not in this world any longer. 

but my grandson is sitting up.  and he's about to start on solid food.  he's smart, he's aware and he has a huge spirit.  it's wonderful when i see him, though he forgets me every time due to the time that grows between visits.  but i will accept that; there's nothing wrong with being new over and over, as long as it's on the basis of a good meeting once again. 

today i'm going to have he and his parents by for dinner.  i'm going to brunch with Marc, so i am going to skip the meeting, otherwise getting everything done is not going to be possible.  i should have gone to the memorial lunch yesterday, but the tearing away of my facade exhausted me.  and i will sincerely apologize to Nancy, for the last time i'm hoping. 

i thank you, Jehovah, i have and i do and i will, for such an abundant blessing, beyond my ability to comprehend, but not beyond my senses to partake of.  thank you for this day. 

Weighing Loss...

new days, same as old days.  feeling slow, like i'm living in a physical fog.  have i ever really felt this before? 

yesterday was harsh, the day before was too.  compounded emotional upheaval.  Wednesday saw the operations manager at my job put out on the curb like some non-rent-paying ghetto dweller.  i fear time grows short at PCS, and i need to prepare for such an event.  but to prepare now?  it might not be possible.  I went through yesterday with two fronts in my brain;  apprehension and sorrow.  strange, my depression has not kicked in yet, and i thank Jehovah for that.  out of one fog of this sort and into another?  likely a bit much. 

making the soup helped.  very good reviews so far.  i've gotten much better at it, but i know i've a long way to go.  i have nothing conventional in my repertoire, so i have to stay inventive. not the worst thing in the world to be sure. 

Rachel and i talk often, daily.  no physical contact.  i won't initiate this time.  i am content with someone i love to fill moments in my life.  but i'll ask the hard questions soon enough.  i won't put her on a pedestal of any kind, but again, i thank Jehovah that i have someone in my life at this time when i really need to stay anchored. 

my parents are sad about Johnnie as well.  at the meeting Wednesday, i saw a lot of surprise on a few faces, and the sadness that set in on those who did care about him.  i heard the voice of the imbecilic as well, the ones who will bloat and bray with no true knowledge of what he tried to give them because they were dazzled by the package the message was delivered in, and never really paid much attention to the message.  but isn't that always the way?

the weight is coming down.  i don't feel a need to change.  i'm not craving sweets, and the urge to cram a fistful of chips in my gullet is pretty low as well.  i had popcorn yesterday, and it was good but i am not going to live there either.  going to get more fruit this week, start moving in that direction.

time to get dressed, time to get going.  i am grateful to Jehovah for everything.  and into the fog i go...

The Dining Room

more changes

a very long day today, no two ways about it.

started out good enough.  prayer, meditation books, medicine.  hurting though, gout flare intense, just grabbed what was available and got dressed for work.  the route was the normal business as well.  then the differences began to set in.

went to brunch with Rachel, which was very cool.  some of us is the same, a lot of us is different still.  went to my meeting, felt Johnnie's absence there for the first time, though he hadn't been to a meeting at the Fellowship hall in months and months, hadn't been there regularly for years.  ended up crying as i commented on Step 2 (came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity), again just feeling how much things have changed in my spiritual environs.  left the meeting early to go back to work.

got back ot my job site to find that our Ops Director has been removed, with her stuff on the curb waiting for her husband to pick her up.  a somber air in the facility, and the chords of dissidence and incipient racist undertones grew louder.  i did my route and ignored the motherfuckers for the most part, but i felt really bad for the way they ousted her and it was sadness on top of sadness.

came home, had some of my soup, took stuff for my pain and laid it back down again.  just woke up, feel like i slept for 8 hours though it has only been about 3 or so.  going back shortly, but wanted to get this in.  i'm thankful to God for life and for all that it contains for the living.

so.

life has to continue.  it will, too.  it will for someone.  it will for me.  it has for those who are now gone, when some who went before them left this plane of reality.  life goes on, and there's nothing one can do about it.  checking out doesn't change the going on anymore than staying around changes the fact that a person is going to die.  it's just how it goes. 

i'm going to try to write this here, as i need to post something on FB, to honor the man who did so much for me, for my existence and continued growth and survival.  and then maybe i can cry as i want to, and maybe i can begin to let go.  i don't know for sure.  but i can try.

"There's a tendency to personalize loss of life, as if the person who has passed away was somehow obliged to us who remain and have broken their obligation.  I guess a part of me feels this way, but the person in question taught me so much better than that.  I know he left because he was sick a long time, and now he's not anymore, and that is a joy to know and a sadness as deep as the hole that existed in me when I came to recovery in 1988.

That's where I met Johnnie L Copeland, in a 12 Step meeting in Salem, Ohio.  Oh, I don't give fellowship names.  if you're astute, you'll probably figure that out for yourself.  But the 11th Tradition gives explicit instruction on that, and I"m not going to be the one to break it.  They get broken enough these days, part of what the hell is wrong in our fellowships.  But I get off track...

I met Johnnie in a little meeting that was one of the originals of this fellowship, back in 1988.  When I walked into that meeting, I was a recently nourished 20 year old junkie with an inferiority complex on steroids and a razor-sharp ability to hide everything behind whatever wall I could construct the quickest.  Be it silence, a mohawk haircut, a large vocabulary of words I didn't even know (back then), or staring at the ceiling or the floor.  I was a terrified kid, fresh from Columbus and suicidal notions, wanting nothing more than to find a way to successfully smoke weed and drink without the onus of freebase cocaine (crack) hanging around my neck millstone fashion.

Johnnie was one of the first people I met in MY recovery.  I met people in my dad's recovery, and I met people on the perimeter as my dad learned to work the steps and did 12 step work the old-fashioned way.  But when I got sober, Johnnie was there.  He was one of three black people in that meeting, and one of only a handful in the city of Youngstown period, in that particular fellowship. 

I felt like I didn't belong there.  I was broke and raggedy, and these people looked well dressed and groomed and hip.  They seemed the manifestation of the tormentors of my high-school years, all grown up now.  Not Johnnie; he seemed somehow worse back then.  Three piece suit.  Jheri curl long enough to almost resemble the old Processes the singers wore.  Jewelry and sunglasses.  A young white girl next to him.  He looked like he stepped right out of an Iceberg Slim/Donald Goines novel.  He became my sponsor, but that's not why. 

He became my sponsor...I ASKED him to be my sponsor, for one reason:  when he spoke, people shut the fuck up and listened to hear what he had to say.  I'd never seen anything like it.  When he spoke, at that meeting, you could hear the fluorescents hum.  And everyone but one person turned to look at him as he spoke.  I remember feeling...'He's not afraid.  He has the room under control when he speaks.'  And I wanted that.  I wanted to know how to do that.  And no one else I saw that day commanded attention without trying like that. 

That's most of my inclusion in this, thank Heavens. 

Johnnie L Copeland was about this recovery thing.  He did his work and retired, but as he worked he helped build the fellowship of Cocaine Anonymous in Youngstown Ohio, and much of the state of Ohio.  He used time that he could have spent doing just about anything else laying down the formation for recovery in this city for people who were being shunned by AA and couldn't get all the way into NA.  He made us responsible.  HE gave us positions in the beginning; Secretary, Treasurer, GSR.  He made up the briefcases and filled them with the things the meeting would need and passed them on to us, to take with us to the meetings we went to.  He would tell us to go to AA, to learn recovery there, and to bring it back to share in CA.  He sponsored a lot of guys.  He helped a lot of people, a whole lot of us.  And he paid for it, too. 

He had a lot of stories of the things he' experienced and done.  I never had a problem believing him, because there is a certain way a person carries themselves when  they've seen hells beyond hell.  I learned this as I became a man.  He grew up in a segregated, racist America, and he learned how to be a man when the white world wanted him to be a 'boy'.  And he tried to teach many of us how to be men too.  He spoke of his sins, his mistakes, his crimes.  He spoke of his regrets and his vices.  He didn't 'sugarcoat' anything, and he was fond of letting you know he didn't.  He didn't try to make himself someone fabulous and amazing in our eyes; quite the opposite.  He would show how imperfect he was, how brutal his actions had been.  He would speak of how the program changed him, and that was his message. 

He was smart.  He was confident in what he said.  He spoke with assurance; when he was sure of his facts, he spoke them and would not brook the nonsense of 'hypotheticals' and rhetoric.  He would say often through the years at many meetings, "The truth don't need me to defend it."  He spoke eloquently, and he could speak gutter profanity just as well.  'Hardcore recovery', they used to call it, and they tried to imitate it, as they did with so much of his persona here. For him, it was a way to confront the brutal truth of who a person was, to get him to open up about the worst of himself so he could see there was only one way to go; UP.  For the imitators, it was just a way to make themselves feel better at someone else's expense. 

How far should I go?  He always drove a Cadillac and a Corvette?  He always had a beautiful woman (at least since I knew him), including his last wife?  He was a gambler, possibly compulsive when it came to the lottery?  Should I say how he took very little nonsense, or what he considered nonsense, from anyone?  How he spoke of money, how important it was to him?  I'm not sure it was, but he spoke of it often. 

I can't really elaborate on that, anymore than I would attempt to explain how many times he sat after a meeting for hours, speaking to someone who was having a problem, long after the practice of 'fellowshipping' died out.  Or how he would deliberately read in a broken, misspeaking fashion to make someone who could barely read at all feel better about themselves.  Or how he was always trying to figure out how to make CA better, trying to see how we could help more people, how we could do more for the community of recovery. 

I can tell you what he told me.  Like, how 'Recovery is life; they're not separate for us.'  Or, 'Just like life has more than one side, your recovery has to be multi-dimensional as well.'  Or, 'Try everything you can to work on your relationship, give it every effort possible...so when it finally ends, you won't think there's something else you can do, and you'll break clean'.  Or a thousand, thousand other things he told me, showed me and taught me over almost 30 years of life. 

Again, not without cost.  'No good deed goes unpunished', they say.  He had to watch as the vultures picked apart the Fellowship.  He had to watch as the newcomers began to be treated like they didn't matter.  He watched egos run rampant and spirituality take a header into a pool with no water.  He watched meetings close and people relapsing over and over again.  He never stopped trying to do the right thing, to get people to do the right thing.  He was ostracized by his imitators, he was slandered and they talked about him behind his back often.  I relate only the facts here.  It hurt him greatly, but he didn't tell to many people that.  He told me.  I'm telling you.  It doesn't matter now, does it?

Now, you can go to one of the few CA meetings in this city of Youngstown, Ohio, and you may see a gathering of Cadillacs.  You might see the jewelry draped fakers and listen to their 'emotional rantings' with no substance in the Big Book or any real recovery facts at all.  You might see the dog and pony show (he loved to use that term) that our meetings have become.  And you might be inclined to think, that's Johnnie C's legacy.  But that's not it. And I sure as hell am not it.  I'm ego-centric, but not to that extent. 

No, I can't say for sure what his legacy is...but I know that when you see someone who is taking time to help someone who is struggling with their sobriety, taking time to listen, to share from their heart rather than from their head or their groin, you're experiencing some of his spirit.  When you see someone digging deeper into the Program, trying hard to find not only where they're at in the process, but where they could go if they truly apply themselves, you are digging some of his flavor.  And when you hear a real burst of laughter from someone who has learned to laugh at themselves, telling themselves the truth about who they are for the first time, or when you watch someone weeping from some truth they've stumbled upon and others offer them genuine love and support...that's a part of his legacy, far as I'm concerned. 

He was scared when he was sick, but he never showed it outside his own home.  Not to me.  I saw it though.  I'm almost certain his wife saw it.  But he continued on.  He was still advising me, still suggesting things.  He never stopped being...Johnnie. 

They'll pretend they care, and many will be glad he's gone.  I'm speaking truth, regardless of who accepts it.  Many will come with crocodile tears and secret heart-smiles.  Many will curse his name openly.  But I'd be willing to bet more will feel what I feel; loss of a friend, a father, an uncle, a mentor, a teacher, a guide, a leader, a support, a sponsor.  Many will feel happy that he's not scared anymore, that he's not sick anymore, that he's done dying.  I believe that will be the majority.  But, under any circumstances, he was one of the best people I've met on this journey so far, and for the past 30 years, he's always had my best interest at heart.  And for that, I honor my sponsor, John Lee Copeland, and I do so with all the love and respect I have in me. My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today..

need a few...

my sponsor, John L Copeland, died yesterday, October 22nd, 2018.  i'm going to be in my feelings for a bit.  sorry. 

...debits, credits and balancing books

it's sunday morning.  the day is sliding through and i'm about to get my ass out of this house.  it's been a weekend, to be sure.  i probably won't get back to this today, so i want to make sure it is logged with the events of the past 2 days.  at least that, at least those hours.   because the promises are growing shorter in length, and the days are almost winter, and there is no point counting on the next thaw.

no, i'm not sad, didn't have a bad experience yesterday.  i had, in fact, a very nice visit, and i'll tell you about it.  but you toss a coin, until it falls it's both heads and tails, and only when it lands does the 50/50 percentage end.  some people won't understand that.  it's cool.

so, as stated, i cleaned my downstairs, i went to my parents house and got stuff bagged up from my dad's banquet.  i came home and made salad and baked the burgers in the oven.  and i went to open my door so Rachel could just come in the house when she got here...and she was already on my porch.  she'd rang the doorbell, but i hadn't heard it. i was very glad to see her, but i stopped her as she was just over the threshold, pointed out the blessing that VF gave me that hangs by the front door, and i told her, 'there is peace here.  it was a home of peace when my grandparents lived here and it lost it when they died and others moved in.  i have worked hard to restore it and though i'm not done, there is peace here.  you are welcome to it while you're here, and please take it with you when you go'.  then i gave her a hug. 

we talked, we ate.  we had moments tense and moments strange.  we had moments of laughing and moments of reluctance.  the only real static was over 'the girl behind the glass', but that's okay.  i wanted to kiss her, but i didn't try and didn't ask.  i told her that i was thankful for her friendship, and that if that was all there was it was more than enough.  a year and a half away creates that understanding, when you really miss someone.  i gave her a meditation book, a piece of cake and a $40 and some change gift card to Red Lobster.  she brought me two large bags of frozen blueberries and two bags of split peas.  she's lost a lot of weight, i've put on quite a bit.  it was like old times for people learning who they're becoming.  nothing wrong with that. she stayed about 5 hours, and it was like no time had passed at all.  i cleaned my kitchen, prepped chicken for today and it was a good investment of personal energy.  when she was gone, i felt good.  and, as David Byrne one sang, 'nothing is better than that...is it?'

that's heads.

tails would be, earlier in the day i'd sent a text to Johnnie, my sponsor, of my request to visit on sunday (today) after the meeting.  i hadn't gotten a response by the time Rachel got here.  when i did get one, it was in a very sad way.  Nancy sent a text that Johnnie is now in a hospice.  he's been in pain and discomfort, and he is apparently getting weaker.  some of it is just the need for more care as his condition worsens.  i am not buying more meaning than is really there.  i'm going to go see him when i get out of the meeting today.  that's all there is to that.  but, it made my heart heavy.  and it made me think, today, about how things transpire, how things tend to move about the board of chess in the game of life, and how in the end, you never really get far from the place you started.  i mean, a woman named Kris died last week, week before.  she was one of the first people i met in CA back in '88, as she was Johnnie's girlfriend then.  haven't seen her in years and years.  the last place i saw her was the last place Johnnie lived before he moved to the home he has now, which was in the apartments that Syd and Joe live in now with my grandson.  the SAME BUILDING, in fact, though Johnnie lived on the bottom floor.  now, my grandson, Timothy, an actual baby, is growing up physically in the building where i began growing up mentally and spiritually.  and i find that strangely apropos.  endings, beginnings, continuations, reiterations, redefinitions, all types of movement of mind, spirit and heart.  what could be better than that?

i am grateful and sad, and i thank Jehovah God for the awareness of both, and for knowing that neither is truly permanent in this world.

T minus 60 minutes and counting...

     you ever just...kinda not know what to do with yourself?  

it's saturday.  it's just about 1pm when i'm writing this.  an update is in order.  i've done good so far today.  i prayed, i read, i medicated.  i ate breakfast.  i cleaned.  i went to my parent's house, bagged up the remains from my dad's banquet yesterday and got her bills paid for her.  brought home some protein.  i texted Lonnie a happy 50th birthday, texted my sponsor that i wanted to come by tomorrow instead of today, and just made a salad.  i'm about to cut up veggies as burger toppings and take a shower.  

a lot for a saturday.

at 2pm, approximately, Rachel will be by for a visit.  the nature is not known.  her intent is not known.  my reaction/response is not known.  what i am able to say is it will be the first time in over a year i will see her face.  the first time in over a year i will hear her voice in person.  the first time...

i remember the first time i ever saw her.  my heart always feels the same.  i guess, even if this is a 'clearing away the wreckage of the past' visit, i will still be grateful to know that a dopefiend's heart can grow and change to the extent that it can love outside of itself, time and again, and to such a magnitude in some cases that it can not encompass one more love.  i think that's the power of God's healing, the power of His spirit, which is love, and the power of the program in action.

Time, minus 68 minutes, to be exact at the moment of this typing.

thank you, Father, for showing me the door. 

Confrontation

sometimes you have to be the bad guy.  life just works that way.  you have to be the bad guy because there is no way things are going to get done by being a 'good guy'.  you have to be the bad guy because people think, THINK, they're getting over the 'good guy' you're trying to be.  or, sometimes, you got to just say 'fuck it', go for broke and accept the title that comes with taking car of the business at hand.

today i got up early, weary as fuck but up for the day at 3.  i got it moving slowly, but i knew there were things i'd have to get done this morning and i didn't want to end up running behind.  some things i should just tend to the night before.  i cut myself real nice shaving my head this morning, literally extracted a section of my scalp from the razor.  bleeding like a small sieve.  got done with what i could, showered, took my meds and read my stuff and got it out the door.  had to get gas for my car, had to get gas for my bus.  the morning runs weren't bad, but early in i was still wrestling with the questions from the day before.  what should i do about the clients who were being far too handsy with one female client on the bus?  so i again told them i wanted them to chill out, and that didn't happen well.  but my plan was to talk to my employer, see what the parameters are, and act accordingly, which is how the thing ended.  but that's later down the line. 

i went to my parent's house, made them breakfast, made mom coffee.  i hung out there for a bit, then i went back to work for my extra run.  got that done, had some chili Da Boss brought for me for lunch, and i finished the day.  before we got rolling, i had THE TALK with the principle people in this drama. 

i told them i didn't appreciate being ignored, that i was trying to give them some leeway but they were taking things too far, and that if they didn't chill out i would separate all of them.  i also told them i would do that if they started shunning the girl they'd been so attentive to before now.  i don't know if they're actually going to listen, but i do know that i am serious about dealing with this.  i don't really care about touchy-feely shit, as these are individuals whose options for 'happily ever after' are fairly limited and i don't want them to not be able to have some small happiness or pleasure in their lives.  but i won't tolerate someone being abused.  my thought keeps running back to a simple consideration:  if she was my child/daughter, what would i want the driver to do?

i talked to Rachel today.  talked to her yesterday as well.  she's supposed to come over on Saturday.  i'm not sure if i'll survive, but i know if i don't i'll die happy and content. 

thank you, Father, for life and love. 

Beef & Veggie Soup to go

as you can tell, i spent time with my grandson today.  always a joy, and i have no issued with that admission. i enjoy seeing him learning about this world, and i think he is enjoying the learning, though he is teething at this point and isn't really having much fun.

it's 10pm, and i'm about to go to bed.  quick entry, to stay on point.  the day went well, but the sleep thing has to be adjusted quickly.  can't deal much more with this falling asleep en route bullshit.  got up, got dressed, got out the house okay.  prayed, read and medicated.  didn't eat breakfast.  the first runs were cool, then i went to Austintown, spent time with the daughter and the grandson. 

i went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch, didn't eat the rice, but was still fuller than i like to be.  finished the runs, did well enough.  then i got to the store, got what i needed to make this soup for one of the supervisors at work.  it's going to be a nice vegetable beef soup.  good enough, anyway. 

talked to Rachel for several hours again.  i am enjoying time and the conversations.  no idea what tomorrow brings, but today is enjoyable and since that hasn't always been the case lately, no gift-horse mouth-looking.

gotta log my meal.  on to the Dining Table.  thank you, Jehovah, for the provisions of the day.

Day's Ending

ever think back and wonder, 'how many different people have i been, and what happened to all those different me's'?

i do sometimes.  been a lot of different folks, been a lot of iterations.  who i am now is not either on of these gentlemen.  neither of them is the same.  i stole both of their shirts, though.  😂

seriously though, this was a pretty good day.  but even the best of days comes with some thought, some reflection.  today is no different.  the weather is inching towards winter.  last week i had on shorts briefly and was sweating a bit.  now it's going to be about 39 tonight, they say, won't get to but mid-50's tomorrow.  so i am pensive.  did i waste the summer complaining?  probably. summer was miserable.  winter's going to be miserable too.  c'est la vie.

i had a decent day.  a client's birthday.  i got him a $40 gift card for Red Lobster.  i was informed we only do $15 gift cards for our clients.  i don't think you can even get an appetizer at the lobster for fifteen.  so i took care of him.  it's cool. 

i talked to my sponsor this evening.  he and his wife had Hospice come by today.  i'm sad, fuck.  this fucking journey don't end well for any of us, because it ENDS, and everything deteriorates and then falls away.  i can't objectively say he's one of the best men i've ever known, because you can't be objective with someone who taught you most of what you know.  but i know he has been every kind of role model i needed, when i needed it.  i know i want him not hurting.  and i know it makes me sad as a motherfucker. 

i had lunch and dinner, i'm going to take a shower, shave carefully (no more bloodbaths) and get ready for tomorrow.  nothing left to do. log my food intake at the Dining Room.  i saw my mom and dad.  talked to Lonnie, talked to SH, my sponsee.  just bed and the next day.  and gratitude, for provisions, for breath and for the years gone by.  thank you, Father. 

Talk Time

the sun through the haze.  the fog, not lifting just yet, but not so thick as the day cannot be seen.  apropos, for this moment in my ongoing history.

yesterday. 

i did the necessary things.  i woke and prayed, i ate and read and medicated.  i got things together for the meeting pot luck and i got to the meeting.  i showered and shaved, cut a small chunk out of my scalp in the process.  the meeting was okay, the discussions have been all pretty cut and dried of late, but the same people every week tends toward that. 

leaving the meeting i went to the store.  got some things i needed for home, forgot the butter.  i went to Baily's field (old baseball field on east side) to see Lonnie and his son, whose car wasn't starting.  i discovered i forgot my meeting bag at the 1323 Club where we have our Sunday meeting.  i called a friend who is an officer and a keyholder, and i waited to hear back from him.

in the interim, Rachel got back in touch with me.  she apologized for not getting back sooner, had had a busy weekend.  i told her i was going to get my bag and i would get back in touch in 20 minutes. 

i got my bag, talked to my friend for a bit, went home and let Rachel know i was back and started heating my dinner (the Dining Room, 10/14/18) she sent me her phone number.  i called, but it went right to voice mail.  twice.  i messaged her that, and sent her my number.  she called me after a bit, and we talked most of the evening, into the night. 

an exchange of recent history.  feelings of mine just out of reach, kept that way by myself, i suppose.  sadness.  hope?  probably, but not that sun through the fog.  that is...tomorrow.  i think it has to be.  we remain friends.  if she hasn't been okay, she's better now.  i still love her, and i imagine i always will.  i did sleep, eventually.  i am up now, i have danced, i have medicated and read again on this monday morning.  catching up. time to get dressed and get gone.  i am grateful to Jehovah for allowing me to speak to her, for the blessing of sobriety and serenity, and for whatever time i have left.  i know it has been a good enough Journey. 

weekend's ending

well.
it's the week end ending.  i've been a couple days not writing.  i know.  can't exactly say why, processing some things, for sure.  you know about that, if you have come to know me at all.  but you should know, under those  circumstances, that things have changed enough that i'm about to catch up, and that's where the importance lies.

so.  it's sunday morning right now.  just about seven, i'd reckon.  good night sleep, but not the night before.  didn't go under til almost 2 in the am.  too much coffee, too much everything i guess.  anyway, let's go back a hair.

friday, i didn't have to work.  that was cool, as i thought i was going to have to, and would willingly have gone in. but it was taken care of, apparently, and i didn't have to go.  so i worked on music, and i wrote a bit, and i took care of some me things.  i sent a line in to Rachel, got a line out, but a tentative one (hence, the working out things in my head, if you didn't figure that out), and i got on with the day.  went to lunch with Lonnie, got some things from the store, watched some anime, took it easy.  mainly, took it easy.  and i came to some conclusions, which i'll share a bit later.  the day was cold, as it was yesterday and is right now as well.  so not doing much, not running around, not trying to be 20 years old anymore makes more sense to me as days go by and season's change.  i'm getting comfortable in this breaking down vehicle, same as i am in my physical car.  long as the wheels turn and we've got enough gas to get there, my worries are minimal and my gratitude is real.  i kind of like that.

drank a pot of coffee on friday, though.  i'm sure that contributed to the lack of sleep, but honestly is what works here, and honesty is telling that not hearing back from Rachel after a point was keeping me checking back on my messenger and running a dialog in my head.  in this Journey, i've never once said i didn't still love her.  i still love cocaine, somewhere down deep, but i've worked enough Steps enough times to know that if i hit a pipe one time, i'd set up the 'phenomenon of craving' once more.  last summer, after i got this house in 'habitable' condition with my old friend Bryan, we sat on my porch, he lit a Black and Mild and, idiotically, i took a hit from it.  regular cigar, mind you, not a weed blunt, just a 'Black', in 'hood vernacular'.  immediately, the light headed feeling, the spinning, the taste...the TASTE...came back.  ONE HIT.  i didn't go for a cigar, didn't take another, forced myself to stay still for a few days, to make sure it was out of my system.  i am an addict, obsessive/compulsive.

let's move on for now.

Saturday, i woke.  i was hurting, jack.  i mean it.  chest, back, shoulders, knees.  old-man walking through the kitchen.  turned on the coffee pot, got my water, got my sugar read (one-fucking 60???), took some fast acting, my regular insulins, my pills.  read my meditation books, but not the bible.  had breakfast, meat loaf and eggs.  gathered clothes.  read some Mickey Spillane.  watched some anime.  felt the gravity of my warmish house as opposed to the coldish day.  but there were things to be done.  so, i gathered clothes, bagged up trash, loaded the car and threw the bag in the can and took off for Hubbard.  i was on an expedition to supply for winter.

Hubbard had no banks that i needed, so i pushed on to Girard through Liberty.  i got money for the wash, i did my clothes, and went to Niles to try to find gifts and a coat and boots and shit for myself.  no coat, no boots, some shit.  found the bluetooth headphones i need for a client on my last route.  birthday was the 4th, i missed it but i keep my word.  went to several stores, too.  no coat, no boots.  got some decent coffee, got my mom some biscotti, got ice cube trays.  cereal and seasoning salt.  not much.  i should have gotten dinner stuff, but i didn't.  i went to my parents, exhausted after running in and out of stores.  good walking though.  visited with them for a hot minute.  and then i came home.  i had leftovers for dinner, a soup i'd made that is super-duper-hot.  tried to watch some more anime but that didn't pan out.  finally, i went to sleep, and am just waking again.  got cloths to put away.  i did order a coat on Amazon, but that's risky for size.  i got a meeting this afternoon, have to prepare something for our pot luck.  have to get some groceries, running out of the incidentals.  need butter.

some observations.

a lot of black people out shopping yesterday, wondering what the season is.  parents and children and older folks.  something is happening where black people need to be seen, we are always out but it was very color coordinated yesterday.  Burlington sucks.  a woman was looking for something called a 'treasure and trash' event in Girard, a sixty-year old woman who was very confused and slightly scared because she wasn't sure what  the date was or what day it was.  i tried to reassure her, urged her to just relax, and take care of herself.  she left walking from the laundry-mat, afraid to take the main street. a young black cashier at Big Lots called me 'young man', letting me know the age is starting to show.  it is a way of disarming old people right off the bat, very effective usually.  my grandson is teething.  it doesn't sound like he's weepy, just grouchy, and i like that he is so expressive.  i may have the kids over for dinner this evening, not sure.  but i'm going to cook because i want to eat something tasty today.  i'm pretty sure that's it for now.  time to get on the floor and exercise my ass.

thank you, Jehovah, for taking care of me.

so...um...

i look at myself to see what is on my mind.  i know already, but it bears much processing at this time. it's not something i'm just going to run through and leave laying around.  the day was fine, the waking, the reading and meds and eating and grooming.  work was fine, everything was done appropriately as far as i know now.  took my dad to his board meeting for his organization, came home, just put some dinner together.

i chatted with Rachel last light.  yesterday, in fact.

as i went through yesterday, i checked my FB because i'm hooked, like everyone else that indulges in it, pretty much.  there was a message, but i don't have messenger on my phone.  don't want it, for one, and for 2, it eats up too much data.  so i had to wait til i got home to see who it was.  it was Rachel, asking about my diabetes doctor and inquiring how the publishing was going. 

i would love to make this into something momentous, but it was off-catching, because i had not expected it. i answered her queries, and i asked how she was, because i've wanted to know, and the asking for a diabetic doctor sort of hints at the answer anyway.  and we dialogued for several hours, and i was very glad to hear from her and very glad to talk to her.  i said nothing that the chattering in my head was almost screaming at me to say, but i did thank her for the conversation and let her know it was the best evening i'd spent in quite some time.  she said, believe it or not, i feel the same.  and that was that. 

i am okay.

i got up and exercised and have been trying to remain active.  i still have the same fight, the same chores ahead of me, the same empty house and empty bed.  so, feeling a bit better for a moment, that's not a curse. it's a blessing, and i thanked my God and Father for it. 

there.  it had to be told.  😋

into the unknown known...

i'd been wanting to take this picture for a minute now, and i'm glad i got it on a day where the sky is that shade of blue, cause we don't have many of those days, warm days anyway, left this year. 

this tree, an old tree, is on the property which i guess still belongs to my mother's family.  next to it once stood my grandparent's house.  my OTHER grandparent's house.  it is on a street named Oakland, running parallel to 422 on the north side of Youngstown, Oh.  i have memories of the house, but they're vague now.  i can remember certain things at certain times, but the entirety of it eludes me.  same with the tree.  there were apple trees in the backyard, what would be considered a small courtyard, i guess, between the house and the garage.  but one was blown over in a near-tornado, and the other i can't exactly remember what happened to it.  i know they were both down by the time my grandparents died.  there was a crabapple tree in the backyard as well, served as first base when we played kickball.  and there was this tree, which was on the side of the house, facing the street, between their house and the one next door. 

it was very lush, my grandmother loved things growing and green.  when i pass by, i always look.  there is the presence of ghosts there for me, same as here.  and the same as well, not all of them have died.  just the ghosts of a spirit that used to sustain us, i suppose.  well, this tree is now indicative of just how much loss that spirit has suffered. 

the tree is broken.  some storm, some wind, something came along and showed the tree that it was not eternal.  that it was not impervious, if it ever was, definitely no longer. 

i was riding past on my way to work, two days ago i think, and i saw the tree and thought...'My family tree is broken'...and the thought made me incredibly sad.  and why wouldn't it?

this will be a poem soon, but its one of those poems that i have to do right, i have to do justice to it.  there is too much inside that poem waiting to be born right now.

i didn't write yesterday.  it was a short day, and i came home, ate and ended up asleep. 

i am sneezing now, i'm going to take some cold medicine and try to crash. 

one more full day this week, then one short short day, and then the weekend. 

i'll be getting back to the regularly scheduled blog tomorrow.  i am thankful to Jehovah for things transpiring right now. 

Raise

there was a lot of fog in Newton Falls yesterday. it seems to be a place that lends itself to murky mornings.  i love to take some pictures along the route, especially the point in the morning when the sun just starts to rise, and the fog stubbornly tries to hold on to the day.  it's at that point that i see the spirit of the world, and i had the thought yesterday, not accurate i'm sure but comforting, that maybe this is when God Jehovah is closest to me, when the cloud descends as it did in Moses' day, and he walks about unseen but felt.  there is a comfort in that, to be sure.  and a fear, because to not see and to continue going, that is almost the human manifestation of 'faith', isn't it?

yesterday was a light day, and one of those every now and then is good for the soul.  i had three clients going out, two going home.  i got up slowly, did my prep stuff, got to work a bit later than usual, i did my morning run, went to the optometrist appointment, got my lunch and finished the day.  l had my review from work, of which i had to do the first part myself, and i got a raise and feel good about that.  i feel good, not so much because of the money, but because i honestly am trying to be a good employee.  it is not ideal; i would love if i had the assurance that cards were being dealt from the top of the deck, so to speak.  but my assurance is in things not seen, and whatever else i believe, i know God has my back. 

i am staying on my eating plan, staying more physically active.  i'm going to try my best to get this weight down so i can start this treatment.  but for now, i have to just keep rolling, despite the fog, and keep singing because the song must be sung. 

thank you, Jehovah, for allowing me to know the road hasn't changed, even if i can't see it for the murkiness.

Sadness...

really, what can i say?  it's monday morning.  i should be on my way to work, but it's going to be a later start today.  i'm tired, i am aching, it's monday and i didn't log on Sunday because i was out most of the day.  but i said i'm going to stay diligent and i meant it.

yesterday, is what i'm dealing with now.  this won't be long.  i did my thing, got up and had breakfast with Marc and then went to my meeting.  it was a good meeting, though short in comments.  i then went to visit my sponsor, who is in the process of dying, and it is not a swift thing. he's gotten progressively worse over the past four years or so, and he has gotten to the point of deteriorating, but his spirit remains strong.  i spent a couple hours with him and his wife, talking and just being.  when i left, i went to see my parents.  i stayed there a couple hours, washed a load of clothes, got the cable straightened out and tried to get the living room computer going, but that's more attention than i had time or permission for at the moment.  then i came home, had a very late dinner and got to bed.

my sponsor, my parents...an old friend whom i learned died 2 years ago, one who died last week that i haven't seen in ages...people who leave because time marches on.  what happened to the 20 year old who came into the 12 step program afraid, introverted, distrustful and wanting more than anything to find a place where people would accept him?  fat, cynical, bitter, weary, sick.  sober, though.  grateful for breath, for the ability to breathe.  this isn't about me.  it's not about what I'VE lost, what I'M losing.  i see my sponsor's face, swollen and gaunt.  i see him being witty and cantankerous, and know it's mostly for my benefit.  i see him too exhausted to rise with social politeness and use his urinal while i'm sitting in the living room with him, and i turn my head to give him privacy, as i did when he was in the hospital.  it's not the hardest thing to do.  my parents, they struggle with daily things.  my mom asks me about 2 Marie Callendar dinners, which do i think is best, and i help her just make the choice of which she wants.  my dad sits on the porch, worrying over money that he doesn't have for things that he either really needs or doesn't need at all.  and friends and acquaintances die, and the world i live in gets more spacious. 

i don't know how much of what i'm feeling is because of true grief, or just the selfishness of not wanting things to keep changing, deteriorating in front of my eyes, knowing that i, too, am deteriorating in front of someone else's face.  time goes on.  mortal things...do not.

thank you, Jehovah, for blessing me with all the good parents i've had on this earth.

Working My Way

well, I guess this is as good as this gets.  okay, how do?  it's almost 11pm on Friday.  i'm going to be shutting it down shortly, but I have been working on my music and figure stay on point, right?  so, I'm logging today's journey.  it wasn't much of a day but is there really anything wrong with that sometimes?

I got up, groggy and feeling a cold coming on.  I was slow motion, so much so that I prayed and fell back asleep and then my alarm woke me again. and it took me several minutes to get it moving.  glad I shaved last night cause the shower thing wasn't happening today.  I read, took medicines, ate something and gathered my things, heading to work.  I got there on time, got my bus inspected and got my paperwork together and got on the road.  all the usual stuff, except I was soooooo sleepy from waking up at 230 this morning.  I was tired on the drive to Newton Falls, and struggling to stay woke.  had coffee with me, thank goodness.

I got there, got my pick-ups and got them dropped off.  VF texted me that I could come in early, so I did my counseling early but i'm pretty sure I nodded off after a point.  I left, feeling pretty embarrassed about that, but it could always be worse.  i could fall alseep in the face of my enemies rather than in the presence of my friends, and then where would i be?

I got to my parent's house, reset my mother's cable box, got some fliers my dad asked me to hang for him and got back to work.  I have a client that I pick up from the workshop at 1130, get her to her 2nd job by 12, and I got some lunch after that and ate, talking to Lonnie, before I finished my runs.  then I got my ass home.  

I've eaten, watched some No Reservations (still miss Anthony Bourdain) and I did my dishes.  I am going to shut this down shortly, tired as I am, but I did get my ass up the stairs and work on this music some, and that was necessary.  if tomorrow is blessed to me, cleaning and cooking and visiting is the order of the day.  I am grateful for this day coming to a close, and thank Jehovah for watching over us all on our Journeys today.

Pins & Needles

 so, i skipped yesterday.  i was mentally exhausted, bleeding over into t  but i have to stay diligent, and skipping a day because it was hard is not discipline.  so, catch up and keep it going, Tim.

yesterday, getting up was pretty normal, but i skipped exercises.  i got my stuff together otherwise, readings and medicine.  got the trash gathered up, got it out the door to the can and got to work.  i was aware of some level of tension in the early office that i'd not noticed before, but i kept it moving, not wanting to default my way into any drama.  the morning runs were no big deal, the usual.  after they were done i took the bus back, went to my parent's house, made coffee, washed the dishes and put some western ribs in the crock pot for their dinner.  then i went to my meeting, which was good.  i got the money arranged, stayed through the whole meeting, had a home group meeting quickly, then got on the road back to work. 

the fun started in the afternoon, of course.  should have been an easy afternoon, two clients out for the day.  got an early start on it and decided to see some of the countryside, plus my wheelchair rider has a time he has to wait to go home.  long story short, i ended up with my bus stuck in a hole, the passenger rear tires anyway.  as well, my left front tire was off the ground, and i couldn't move.  ended up requiring an office call and a tow, and notifying the parent's of their children's well being.  the tow truck got us out of the hole, and i got the client's home and got back to the shop.  i grabbed 2 incidents reports and went home.  i ate, realized my energy was gone and i went to sleep.  not a great sleep, by any stretch, but i owned the situation and told them to just let me get the route finished and whatever came of it was cool.

so, today.  i got up, filled out the incident reports to turn in this morning.  i had my coffee and a very light breakfast and i got to work.  i had to take a different bus as the tail pipe on mine had a broken bracket.  i did the runs, uneventful, a bit different in a detail change on my route, but nothing out of sanity.  i went to the radiation oncologist, who gave me the rundown on getting this treated with radiation.  i've got some work ahead of me, let me tell you.  the route was cool, though, and the day finished without incident, at least for me.  i've shaved my head and face and had dinner.  i've got a few more chores to do before i close up shop completely, but that's okay. 

yesterday i tossed and turned, on pins and needles, wondering if i'm about to be fired.  now, i just want to take this and everything else one day at a time.  i have the most important thing to this world growing inside me, malignant.  now i have to remember that the most important thing is not a thing at all, it is the preservation of my spiritual growth.  and that's okay with me right now. 

i thank you, Father, for all that You've done on my behalf. 

Blessings

well, a bit of drama trying to get this picture framed where i want it, but okay.

i'm home from work.  it was a good enough day.  non-eventful, for the most part.  but there's that part that makes the thoughts stick, like an old 78 caught in a scratch on the wax.  and i don't dismiss such things.  but i'll get to it in a few.

okay, second day, stayed on point.  woke good, rested, still having some gout, but didn't take any extra prednisone.  got up, said my prayer and got on the floor to stretch and do exercises.  read, took meds, had breakfast.  dressed, got my shit together and i was gone.  first runs, easy enough.  one client out today, so five to pick up, one workshop to drop off at, back in good time.

i went to big lots to get some supplies, didn't go crazy in there.  got the necessities and some things that will be helpful in this leg of the Journey that i hadn't thought of, but no impulse purchases.  time for that later in the weeks to come.  then i went to Austintown, visited with Syd and my grandson.  they've been working on the apartment, cleaning it, and i'm pretty sure their motivation is for her mother to come to visit her, but there could also be some issues as far as the other tenants in the building.  but it was improved, whatever the motivation.  then we went to Denny's for brunch.  i took them home, went to the work parking lot and took a nap.

the evening runs were cool also, with the exception of how long it took them to bring my wheelchair client out.  but i got him on, we got moving and i still got back fairly early, though not as much so as if i had gotten my client in a timely fashion.  i have issues with the North Rd workshop.  i stopped in on my parents, put the mask together on my mother's c-pap machine, drank some water and came home.  i had stopped at the store to get my steak for dinner today.  now i'm at the computer, about to work on these vocals and try to get the levels right.  hard to do, i need some better speakers to hear what i'm doing more clearly.  but, this is amateur work, and it makes the creative process fun.

so, nothing to do with Syd, or Joe, or the grand.  nothing with anyone in my regular life.  i was sitting  in the back room waiting to go on my 2nd runs.  i listened to a conversation they were having about someone in one of their families having to deal with someone who OD'd today, and their disdain for giving the Nar-can, or whatever it's called.  i listen to a lot of stuff.  a lot of it is easy enough to just let go of, because i consider the source and i realize that ignorance is prolific and determined.  but when it comes to my actual boss, several co-workers, speaking contemptuously about addicts, it gets under my skin.  and, truth is, i don't necessarily disagree with them.  but no one ever points out how most of the shit that started the epidemic was prescription drugs.  no one looks at how the 12-step process has been completely undermined so that the treatment 'industry' can continue to not only manufacture customers but also to recycle dying people for further profit.  never any discussion about that.  so, i listened, and then i left.  and i had been thinking about my coming anniversary. 30 years...seems like so much less...and so much more at the same time.  but i was thinking, a landmark, an actual round number accomplishment, and i'd love to share it with someone.  but i am hesitant, which is not what i first typed.  i think in terms of giving someone fodder for the cattle, throwing my happiness to pigs, i guess.  and spiritually, that makes no sense to me as a course of action.  so i'm going to talk to my boss about it, not to cast blame or aspersions, but to let her know how i feel.  and i'll leave it alone at that point.  it's always a chance to carry a message, if it's done in the right spirit.  but that's tomorrow, should it come.  storm warnings out tonight.  gonna be a messy day tomorrow.

thank you, Father, for a lovely day.

Begin Again...

...and, to be honest, as many times as i need to.  thus, the stop sign in the sunrise, i suppose. 

i got up on Monday (its tuesday morning now) and i said my prayer.  i slept well, if deeply, due to the gabapentin, but i got up and rolled onto the floor, did my stretches and crunches and push-ups.  then i went to the kitchen.  got my breakfast made, read my books and took my medication and got my shower in.  i'd shaved sunday night.  i made my way to work in good time and i got the day started good.  i ate responsibly through the day and was of a good mood for the majority of the day. 

i went to my parent's house for the break between runs, saw to some things my mother was doing, took a quick power nap and washed and dried my clothes, as well as washed my dad's clothes and put them in the dryer before i left. i got my lunch from Giant Eagle, ate in the lot at work and rolled out for the afternoon runs.  i wanted to take my bus through the truck wash but it was closed so i gassed up and brought it back and came home.  i didn't do anything in the evening, just played on the computer and ate my dinner, but it had been a good day and i was making applesauce and didn't feel like running up and down the stairs working on music and making sure my applesauce was coming along. 

i slept well last night also (monday night) and am about to go to work shortly, but i have to stay on top of logging this life that i'm living.  no telling how much is left, so best to stay focused. 

i am feeling good, and i am grateful to Jehovah for all the good things that i know of, and all the bad things that have missed me by his grace. 

eating responsibly is back to being logged at the Dining Room