so, it's Sunday night now. it's been a pretty good weekend, to me anyway. I got no complaints tonight. i's just after 6pm. I've just finished eating my dinner, the dishes are washed. I swept my floor and found a tiny, tiny bit of mouse evidence, so I suppose tomorrow I'll load a trap or two and see what it produces, but for now, compared to the army that was running through here, shitting all over my stove, i'm not traumatized. and that's all that matters, at this time.
i'm trying to do different stuff. it's not easy, but it's not the hardest thing in the world, either. like, I should take my shower tonight, but i'm not going to. i'm going to take some cold medicine shortly, get myself into the bed and get some sleep. tomorrow shouldn't be terribly difficult, but it is a work day and I want to get up, get my exercises in, get cleaned up and take my meds and meds and get it in, get it done. Monday work, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday off, Friday work, and the weekend off. it will leave me a day short, but I think i'm going to survive that.
yesterday I went with Syd to get her some clothes. did I write about that already? anyway, she needed some stuff, and she didn't have the money and I did. so we went to Gabe's and she checked the clearance racks and found herself some stuff, and we got my grandson a coat and some toy cars, and I found a pair of Sketchers for myself. and we went to lunch and I took her home. that was a day. today, I did my meeting. I opened it, set up, chaired and did the treasury for my friend who went to the game with his son, and I went to the store afterward to get what I wanted for dinner today. but that's not what the title is about, obviously.
this is Delia. she is one of my dear friends, whom I only recently spoke to. as in today. as in this morning. as in, Reaching Back. part one.
she is a friend from my Columbus days, but she's so much more than that. they all are, I know. but this woman...when Chris first decided to explore her sexuality and pulled everything apart (inadvertently, I'm sure 😑…) this woman was the glue that held me together. she became my best friend, and we bonded because the woman that she was in a relationship with was pretty much doing her the same level of bullshit that I was being done. we started hanging out, she became my security and my mental bodyguard. we became spiritual siblings. she is a black panther, long before Disney bought the rights. she looked out for me, cared for me, and I did the same for her. we were each other's truth.
I moved back her and it hurt her, but we survived that. but I underestimated my level of depression that I was living under at that time, far deeper than I had believed. I guess I thought I was indestructible and I was wrong. her mom, also a friend of mine, died, in a very horrible way, in Delia's car, and she was undone. and I wasn't there for her. not even for the funeral. and she was angry with me, as she had every right to be. and I just left it alone, because I knew i'd fucked up, but with depression, that's not unusual. you know you have messed things up, and you feel worse, and you dig in deeper. well, I don't even know how long it's been. hold on...okay. 2014. five years. five years ago, her mom died. five years ago was the last time we talked. and I have missed her every day, but I am a man and I take the weight of my actions. didn't used to, but I do now.
thing is, I've realized some things, and i'm working on the premise of those realizations now. like, if I've isolated myself, cut myself off so much from people that when the Unnameable One leaves town I fell despondent, how do I make that right except by trying to 'clear away the wreckage of my past? that's from the chapter titled 'A Vision For You' in the Big Book. so I reached out to Delia and a woman named Patrice through text. Patrice, I didn't think I'd hear back from. Delia, I thought it could go either way. but she confirmed it was still her, and I asked for permission to call and she called me on her way to her meeting and we talked. and it was a nice talk, and I miss the fuck out of her and told her so, and soon enough, we'll get together. and that's good, because restored friendship or not, I needed her to know that I KNOW I fucked up, and that i'm sorry, because I can't make 5 sober years of silence right. but I learned this from going through this with another friend. and I guess that's part of the importance of these lessons as well. if they're friends, you survive it all. if they're not, you don't really want to keep things going anyway. win-win, more or less.
so, i'm trying to clear slates. trying to get my life back. the ride nears its conclusion. it has to. and at the end, I just want to be known as a stand up motherfucker, someone who went from 'consistently inconsiderate' to someone whose word was worth more than it's weight in gold. if I get there, it's by God's grace and I'm thankful for the distance I've come so far. if I don't...I take the blame, my own self-will will have gotten in the way and I will deserve whatever comes to those who can't get around their own ego.
good night.
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