Not Today

the sun is coming for you

 

When the Jehovah’s Witness’s came to my door, I did not mind. The only problem was that I was going to be late for work. I apologized and let them know that I could not talk at that moment. The older gentlemen said he understood.

“Well you have to go to work!” He exclaimed

“No, I don’t.” I answered and he returned with a puzzled look.

“Well, you have to work. You have to make money!!”

“No, I don’t have to do anything. I choose to everything I do in life.”

I stumped him. How was it I didn’t have to work? How could I think I could choose everything (within reason) if I did not have anyone else supplying my income?

So…he argued some more. “You need to make money. You need to eat.”

“No, I choose to make money and I choose to eat.” I declared.

“Well, what do you mean?” He asked politely.

I do not think he was ready for my honest and rare outlook on life.  Therefore, I should not have been so stunned to see the look on his face when I answered.

“I can always kill myself.” I stated without hesitation. I do not remember what happened next but I do know he came to visit more often.

Now, I know this seems like a strange way to view one’s life. Every species on this planet is making diligent attempts to stay alive. I get that. But for some reason, I needed to know that if it ever got to be too much, I could end it all.

There are others like me. They are sitting right next to you. We just don’t talk about it. People with suicide ideation are far more common than people realize. It would come to me in waves, throughout most of my life. I just did not want to live. It hurt too much.

Although, I seemed like the most happy person in the room and I really was not faking that, it is just, a person with suicidal tendencies’ brain will switch involuntary at the most inconvenient times.

For instance, I produced and hosted my own cable access show. Six months of rigorous planning matched with an incredible team allowed me to fulfill this crazy dream. I worked so hard. Day and night. I spent thousands of dollars to train the team, buy furniture, take potential guests to lunch or coffee and anything else it would take to create a wonderful show.

The show went well. We had a lot of fun and although, it was less David Lettermanish than I planned, it was a good solid attempt at modeling what the superpowers of media do everyday.

The next day, I wanted to die. I sat in my backyard in a lawn chair, chain smoking, trying to convince myself to stay alive.

I always thought pills were a great way out but I found out hanging is the surest bet. But that day, I made it through by sobbing, thinking and praying that if I could just get some sleep that tomorrow would be better. Luckily, tomorrow was better and this, indeed, did pass.

But this has happened to me so many times. However, my outlook has changed.

My dad replied when I told him of my great suicide epiphany, that it made sense, but it changes when you have children. I did not believe him. I am quite sure now that he agreed with my epiphany. Usually these things are genetic.

Unfortunately, having a child was not enough but it sure helped. What I found was that I had to know in my deepest part of my being that I could survive anything and that required a great amount of maturity on my part to begin to actually take the actions to assure my survival. Actions such as making money again. Or taking back my health.  I began to accept that I will always have to tolerate and endure some merciless anxiety and I started to live “in” love instead of trying to be loved by everyone with whom I came into contact.

Now..note…I still struggled. I married a psychiatrist for goodnesss sake!! There are no coincidences when it comes to life and death. And with a loving, accepting partner, I felt safe to explore my vulnerability. I did not need the comfort of knowing I could end it all at any time, on my terms, anymore.

Life is truly about relationships. They matter. The relationship with yourself matters. Self-care is paramount but not readily taught. We are an ego-driven, I-need-the-next-fix society. But it does not have to be that way.

I am a better person because I had to try to love myself more. The very act that I thought was the ultimate sin was what carries me through my days. That… and God.

If only, I could find that nice Jehovah’s Witness and let him know I did have to go to work now and eat and make money. I could tell him to not worry that I know I am not free to choose anything except to choose how to live and react to whatever comes my way.

 

Instability

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I have heard people will decide to make changes when they are finally sick of being in pain.  Long-term  suffering can come in any form. Strife within a relationship, jobs, or  health issues throughout  time will cause a person to walk close to the edge without even knowing it. Throughout those days, I secretly promise myself that I will be happy, once again, when my problems go away.

There are also times of rejoice, in the middle of suffering, through an ordeal, that creates a sort of denial that the problem ceases to exist. Alcohol can give you that for 4 or 5 hours. Sex: a good 25 minutes. Dating a man who doesn’t love you can be a great escape from the problems that lay low in your head for many years.  But for me, just getting involved with someone else’s problems allows me to vicariously believe that I am solving my own.

No one would say I am a quitter either. I will do everything I can to not deal with a problem that is too painful to comprehend. The year of 2016 was a problem of money for me.

Due to being totally f*cked over by a private contract company working with the Department of Defense, my family and I went from having money to not having money in less than three months. We did have savings. We did have investments. We did have credit. We were not stupid or reckless or living outside of our means. We just got screwed on a job deal and no money was coming in to pay the bills.

Without a job, home, or stuff, we carried on. My familiarity with being broke played into a false sense of confidence that I would be really good at finding creative ways to stay afloat. But we were just not ready for what smacked us over the head: a symphony of bats playing the most hardcore drums, pounding, slamming and drowning all other thoughts out of my head. We were in trouble.

I have many traits suited for survival but not enough traits to actually thrive. I am friendly, charismatic, intelligent and persuasive. I am well-liked among my peers and grocery clerks and doctor offices or anywhere I do business. But there is one trait within me that weighed so heavily into my life that it crept into all my relationships and  lessened any chance of me being consistent. That flaw is called instability.

In general, people have a sixth sense about those of us who are not stable. It makes them uneasy. It creates a shadow of mistrust among the closest of allies. People want to give you the benefit of the doubt but an unstable person brings much more stress to a situation than not.

Plus, I never knew I was not stable because I never knew how to be stable. My solution was to freak out, stop eating all together, give up daily bathing, call everyone in my support system and tell them everything that I feared pertaining to the crisis at hand. Eventually, I would muster some strength to eat again and slowly I resurrect back into an able-bodied person willing to look problems head on.

Yet on that day in May, when I had a writing assignment due, my child became sick. I felt a great amount of pressure to do it all despite my frailty in that moment. My blood sugar was low and my blood pressure was high. And in the middle of Hobby Lobby, I began to have a panic attack.

First, my lawyer called to say that Mercedes Benz had backed out of the deal to get caught up in payments and wanted their money now. I was already in the hole several grand for the month and the month was nearing a close. I simply told him we would deal with it or we would give up the car.

I was beginning to become accustomed to giving back my stuff at that moment. Earlier that year, I pawned my beautiful chocolate and diamond wedding ring to pay the rent as well as my diamond earrings and a semi-chipped Fire Opal ring that I added in as token. If we were going to lose our cars than so be it.

Then the second call came in. It was my husband explaining we needed to buy a large business related item that day or there would be trouble. My internal hole began to expand. And if I could have, I would have jumped in, let them cover me with dirt, and then all the hell would be over.

But my son was there, as was the case, and he began his normal series of demands as we become closer to checkout. I told him no. He asked why. I said because and the conversation remained in this circular argument throughout check out.

Without being able to stop, I began to cry frantically in the car on the way home. I knew I was upsetting my son. I just could not stop. And in my mind I thought “I cannot do this another day. Not one more single fucking day. This is too unstable for me. I can’t get my writing done. I can’t care for my son. I can’t even make myself food because I am such a wreck.”

So I explained to my son exactly what I did not want to tell him. The solution. We were going to have to leave our perfect little mountain retreat in Montana to seek new opportunities. And by doing so, pain would ensue.

Why would I avoid the solution? Because it required literally moving mountains. And I was…I was tired. But this would be the last day. I was tired of the instability more than I was tired of the pain.

The key to being stable is not anywhere near as hard as I thought it would be. It is simple. Be stable. Just do it. No matter what. No matter what stay stable. Life keeps going and so would I. I would fake it until I owned it. But I was going to be stable. Not for my son or my family, but because I needed to be stable to thrive.

Such clarity opened my eyes significantly to other areas of my life. I worried a lot. I looked too deep into every situation and found a reason to be afraid. I thought people did not like me or that my opinion meant very little. In actuality, people were always saying how much they liked me and asking me for advice in their own lives. The disconnect between my inside and my outside freed the hot mess inside of me for many years. But reconnecting would beckon me to strive to align with my highest self and empower me in ways I knew existed somewhere within myself.

The missing piece for my life was that I needed to be stable no matter what happened. I could not speak rudely to people just because I was in a panic. I could not justify erratic behavior because I was afraid any longer. I had to get it together.

Some of the simplest solutions for our lives biggest problems are not living in some divine matrix. The truth  is the most profound answers can be found straight in front of our nose. It is up for us to open our eyes to see them.

 

MY LIPS ARE SEALED

learning

The truth is never objective unless it is a fact. It comes from our point of view which is almost always an opinion. Telling your “truth’ comes with a heavy price. It is not worth it to me unless I am asked. However, I did not always feel this way and trouble found me everywhere I spoke.

Probably, the biggest mistake I ever made was blurting out my “truth” at a dinner party with my in-laws. It was January of 1999 and my life was about to take a great turn. I was cocky, grandiose, sarcastic, with an outlook of a dreamer who believed my way was the only way.

My in-laws treated me kindly, always. But they had a sarcastic way of talking about each other that made me uncomfortable. Clearly, my sensitivity stemmed from my fear of them possibly talking behind my back. Clearly, I was insecure. I could not see that at the time. My impulsive nature coupled with some serious rash thinking and lack of life experience reared its ugly head that evening.

Please know a lot of wine was on board for everyone. The night appeared to be hopeful as we dined on wonderful food and delicious Oregon Pinot Noir. My mother-in-law stated how glad she was to be back with the family. She had been away for several weeks with her mom.

“She is so positive all the time!” She complained jokingly.

This rubbed me wrong. What was wrong with being positive?

So when “it is better than being negative all the time” rolled out of my mouth, I had no idea what would transpire.

Needless to say, it did not go well. An entire family with extended relatives joining in began to question my response. I prayed someone would defend me. However, I was in deep when my husband showed up from another wine run.

I tried to explain that I did not feel the family could be honest with each other. Individually, I would often hear about each person’s life candidly but as a group nothing was said. Or at least that was my perspective.

The night ended quickly with every person at the table crying, including me. I tried to apologize. I really did. But no one was having it. Maybe I hit a sore spot or maybe my flip remark was so offensive that I would no longer be able to be part of the family anymore. It seemed the future held the latter.

The next morning, I woke up and write the most apologetic letter I could muster. I meant it, too! I do not remember what I wrote but I do know I was kissing major butt and then some.

The truth is a funny thing. Everyone believes their truth is correct. People do not mince words with the truth or consider information contrary to their own beliefs with ease. We are steadfast, stubborn and closeminded about anything that feels intense. I now know that by feeling that intense about anything mirrors utter subjectivity. It becomes dangerous ground when people cannot listen without hearing their own thoughts and we are all guilty of it.

When I opened the response letter from my mother-in-law I actually thought that it would work out. I thought I was persuasive enough to end this nightmare. But no. She wrote me about my addiction to drama, my unhappy childhood, how typical families behave and why what I said was wrong. She did not write me to mend fences.

And I could accept that until…I realized she had cc’d a copy of her letter to me to all the people in the family.  Then I was livid. For me that was the ultimate betrayal. And betrayal to me felt like dying. I did not know how to even approach the subject and I basically gave up.

The facts are my relationship suffered greatly due to my choice to say my truth. In retrospect, I loved these people. I just wanted to be accepted. They were great people. Yet, I screwed up because I had to tell the truth (as I saw it).

We ended up divorced. I never saw the family again for over a decade. Now we are all friends and the relationship is mended.

From this I learned that I will only speak my truth if asked. I also realize that my truth is just a perspective. I do not like opinions anymore. I listen to people who speak from experience. This is a restrained version of me but a healthier way to live. No longer do I have confrontations and I no longer embark into conflicts with certainty that I am right. In fact, I do not even care if I am right anymore, I would rather learn something new.

I write about it in a period of time where people are dividing into their groups of truth. I will not participate. But I am concerned because I do not want my son to grow up in a world where what people favor masquerades as fact. All I can say is that I think twice before I believe my thoughts. I see they are responses from unfinished business in my head. And the most wonderful part is I have more friends than ever because I let it all go and listen. All I ask is that the reader keep an open mind to my truth about my truth. I cannot ask for anything more.

 

 

How To Spot An Alcoholic

Of course, we all know the easy way to spot an alcoholic: red face, preoccupation with alcohol, unable to stop drinking once started etc etc. But today I am going to share with you some insight on characteristics of an alcoholic you may not know. Keep in mind, that what applies to spotting an alcoholic also applies to spotting a relapse because drinking alcohol is only a symptom of a greater problem inside the heads and hearts of people inflicted with the disease.

  1. Anger and resentment- This is nothing new to someone who is in AA. The whole book is written around this subject. Alcoholics have a pattern of being angry and resentful. Often, if I am on social media and I see someone with hostile posts I instantly become suspicious. Alcoholics are triggered by what they deem to be unfair acts against them especially when it comes to close relationships. The disease makes it very difficult for the alcoholic to not take someone’s actions personal. However, in recovery we learn that even the most atrocious acts of unkindness are not personal and we are taught to believe what other people say about us is none of our business.
  2. Comorbidity- Almost all alcoholics have secondary afflictions of the spirit, mind and body that manifest prior to the age we begin drinking. I suffer from anxiety and depression. Always have. In recovery, we are bonded by identifying in each other the same twisted personality traits. It seems like everything we feel is to the extreme. Alcoholics are extremely sensitive. In alcohol we look for relief in caring so much about anything and everything.
  3. Big Plans but No Follow Thru- The brain of an alcoholic is very different than a person who is not inflicted. The pleasure centers of our brain are not naturally full and it takes action every day to get into a pleasurable space. Alcohol replaces action in a way that we think of a big ideas, sometimes brilliant ideas, that are never completed due the fact that the intake of alcohol gives us the same reward response as if we had actually followed through on goal or a task. For example, when I want to write a book, if I drink I most likely will never write the book because alcohol makes me feel as if I had already done the work. This is why in recovery action is far more important than thought. Someone in relapse will begin slowly not to accomplish anything that is important for daily functioning and in the grander scheme of life.
  4. A Track Record- This is very hard for alcoholics to see. We feel things are happening to us. That we are just unlucky. It is very difficult for an alcoholic to link their drinking as a consequence of what they choose. An alcoholic does not have to be drunk to make bad decisions. Once again, drinking is only a symptom that masks what drives a person to be reckless, irresponsible and sometimes very foolish. And the next thing we know we have multiple situations transpiring at once but cannot figure out why. For instance, we get in fights with significant others, our bills are not paid or we lack money, our health deteriorates and we stop doing things that we usually love all at the same time.  When someone is in their disease it is almost impossible for them to be accountable because their disease wants more alcohol. I know that is hard for a normal person to understand but it true.
  5. Unhealthy Boundaries- I am not sure if our inability to have healthy boundaries starts in the family of origin who is likely full of other alcoholics or if it is just the nature of the disease. But alcoholics do not have healthy boundaries. They are often promiscuous, codependent and often expect others to do for them what they should be doing for themselves. They are abusive and they let themselves be abused. They do not know where they begin as a person and others start. This is very hard to master even in sobriety because our extreme feelings and thinking tend to create scenarios both in our heads and in our lives that cross lines of respectability and human decency.
  6. Great Senses of Humor- Recovering alcoholics know how to laugh at themselves. They are usually very funny with off color remarks and ideas. The way we view the world is quite different than a normal person and we are not afraid to embrace that side of themselves because they are usually rewarded by other people for it.
  7. Moderation in Moderation- Alcoholics are all or nothing thinkers. Balance is just not in our vocabulary. If we eat, we eat a lot, if we exercise,we exercise a lot, if we love we love far too much and we don’t see much reason to change.  We have a history of doing everything in our life to excess. Once again, we have a blind spot. We are unable to match our thinking with our behavior. We do not see the link unless we are practicing being mindful. I do not think being moderate ever becomes easy for someone even they have years of sobriety. That is why it is helpful to go to meetings, have a sponsor and be able to tell on ourselves. Otherwise, we slowly or quickly unravel into some sort of extreme.
  8. A Need to be Special- Alcoholics almost always feel that they do not fit in. Because of this, they have a desire to be more “special” than their peers. They truly believe they are superior because of it. But at the same time, being special creates distance which in turn breeds loneliness. One of the greatest things I learned was to find the similarities I have with my fellows if I want to feel fulfilled in my relationships.

This list is not extensive. But it can tip a person off to know if someone has a problem with an alcohol problem. I usually can spot someone right a way. However, it is seldom useful to tell a person that they are alcoholic. An alcoholic usually can figure this out on some level and either desperately tries to hide it or is willing to seek help.

Could it be ME?

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You enter the room again. You know you have to wait. You are just a number in a line. The doctor finally comes in and recommends another doctor and this pattern continues for 10 years. Your pain is insignificant to the giant medical beast. Your theories are trivial in the three minute intervals the doctor is allowed to spend with you. And you are left frustrated, hopeless and depressed.

But imagine…why are you having so many health problems? It is not old age…you are far too young still you are constantly seeing an onslaught of doctors, taking far too medications and  you find yourself having a surgery every year and a half for ten years.  There is a reason. And the reason is you.

You don’t go out to make problems for yourself. These problems are so embedded in your psyche that they are totally unknown to you. Yet they manifest. They must find a way to be freed from your heart and your mind therefore they creep up like some unwanted weed in what was once a beautiful garden. A place where you played and you loved. All the while, you have been depressed since the beginning of your toddler years.

And this is where I stand. Finally, after ten years of major surgeries and a lifetime of self medication I realized  the doctor can fix the symptom. But I am the problem.

Fear of abandonment takes someones heart and leaves it guarded; unable to accept love because your walls are too thick from the pain of yesterday. In fact, if I look closer, I see there is a pattern of people and experiences that I still dwell on as if they were happening now. Even if I was the person who left the friendship or relationship or vice versa, I struggle with people moving on without me. I struggle so much I make myself sick.

I am suggesting that anyone with chronic health issues consider that it may come from inside our brains and not our body. We all have a certain amount of energy we yield. We have the capability to change what form that energy takes through our actions, through how we love and to what degree to we love ourselves.

If you look closely, you might dislike yourself a lot more than you realized.  Although, this is a misinterpretation of the real you, it becomes part of you because you believe it. Plus your actions show it. But denial is very strong within us and we place labels in the wrong places.

My  great epiphany came when my friend wrote to me to discuss my upcoming total hip replacement surgery. Many months before he had a total hip replacement as well and we both agreed we had a propensity for yummy painkillers. He said not worry and he would get back to me. On the same day  I left the hospital after my total hip replacement I learned that he died in a drug related accident.

This was so painful to hear. And I grieved for sometime. I kept trying to wrap my brain around it and I knew it was drug related. I kept thinking , this could be you.  Yet I rationalized over and over again”I know I like pain killers but I am not having surgeries on purpose. The pain is real. There is solid evidence to support my need for the operations.” This was a thought that had twirled around my brain for several years. And then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I receive some message. It is you. You are making yourself sick. But I did not know why.

Instantly, I began to listen instead of think. I let a few walls down and felt an absorbent amount of pain I carried within me. In fact, it was too much and I needed to deal with it in doses. The answer would come…I was sure.

I began discussing this a few doctors who did listen to me. They agreed with me and they wished more patients could see their health difficulties for what they were instead of looking for the fix.

And I share this now because I believe I have found my reason. I was neglected as a child, my mother left our family when I was ten, I had some people cut me off from our relationships in my teens and early twenties and my father’s death was a form of abandonment that still seems beyond repair.In fact from that moment on my health became in decline. I see know coincidences.

Additionally,  I recognized long ago that I try to tap to someone’s tune before they even know they had one. It was highly important to me that a  person would like me and eventually depend on me. I do not share these examples to blame someone because that would be useless. I am saying these are facts; no one bears responsibility.

And just when I thought it was over, I had to have an abdominal hysterectomy.  But this time I suspected ulterior reasons. I spoke with a spiritual advisor and she listened to my theories and all of sudden she asked if I had ever been raped. I thought for a second and two repressed memories emerged.

I did have two situations where I could not be sure if it was rape or not. The first time, I was already making out with this guy for a few days but one night he was going full forward and I kept saying no, no, no. But he did it anyway and he never spoke to me again. On another occasion several years later I was screwing around with an old boyfriend. We always used condoms but one night I passed out and he had sex with me in my sleep with no protection leaving me pregnant and alone. I never looked at it as rape because I knew I had put myself in risky situations but I did not agree to either sexual encounter. And the hardest thing for me to bear was that a person would do that to me and leave. (Back to the initial issue of abandonment.)

She had me scream to the top of my lungs practicing some sort of primal therapy. And I screamed and I cried and I hit a pillow trying to heal. It was amazing to me that i held those two events I held in my reproductive system for more than 20 years. And then I felt free.

Today, I have a long way to go to get my health at normal levels. I have gained a huge amount of weight,  I have trouble walking and I am sleepy most of the time. But with baby-steps I will be back. The baby-steps are what it takes to show myself that I matter. I will have to fight the indifference and pain that I allow to be parasites in my body. But I will fight. I will fight to live and I will fight to live well. It is a blessing that I was able to be totally honest with myself for just one moment of clarity. I foresee other moments in the future.

The END

 

 

 

 

 

1992: When I knew EVERYTHING

know-it-all1

1992 I believe speech…

I believe we choose where we are in life.

I believe nothing should be lemon-scented.

I believe ATM’s are the root of all evil.

I believe anyone looks attractive after 8 beers.

I believe Elvis is dead.

I believe in memories.

I believe everyone should fulfill as many sexual fantasies as possible.

I believe Cindy Crawford should be shot and killed.

I believe Hitler was the devil.

I believe in remote controls.

I believe leaf blowers only work on Sundays before 10:00am.

I believe we are as beautiful as we feel.

I believe raisins taste exactly how they look.

I believe Bill Clinton did inhale.

I believe there is a sixth sense.

I believe in destiny.

I believe in taking a pillow to the beach.

I believe Michael Jackson can do whatever he wants with his face.

I believe blame is irrelevant.

I believe people walk through life never knowing their surroundings.

I believe marriage is not hopeless in the 90’s, just harder.

I believe in wine without dinner.

I believe what comes around goes around.

I believe everyone deserves the time of day.

I believe fleas are immortal.

I believe in tipping well.

I believe in life after death.

I believe people who have too many secrets go through life misunderstood.

I believe menstruation is a cruel joke form God.

I believe in order over freedom but never over equality.

2016 where I am now

I believe fate and character are one in the same.

I believe I am lucky to be able to afford lemon- scented anything.

I believe ATM’s are the last of our problems.

I believe anyone looks attractive after they bought my meal, made me laugh and bought me eight beers.

I believe Elvis dead but he did not die from a jelly do-nut overdose like my mother said ended his life.

I believe I have a photographic, autistic memory that irritates all boyfriends, marriages and all friend.

I no longer blush at the idea of sexual fanasies.

I think we should leave Cindy alone, plus her husband is a babe.

I believe  Hitler was the devil and an antecedent how social groups react under fear and pressures given any knowledge of Global Studies.

I totally did not foresee the expansion and technology of remote controls.

I believe we are as beautiful as we ACT.

I REALLY DON’T CARE ABOUT BILL or his WIFE.

I KNOW there is a sixth sense.

I believe destiny is an illusion.

Pillow are necessary everywhere.

Michael Jackson. Too soon?

I believe blame is irrelevant unless you are married. Then it is solid truth.

I believe people walk through accept the reality that they are given, regardless of the truth.

I believe marriage is always harder regardless of the time in history.

I believe in dinner. But wine is good if you don’t have it every day.

I know what comes around goes around and I try to be of service at all times.

I believe fleas are immortal in arid climates.

I believe the morning doesn’t always save us.

I know there is a higher power.

I know nothing lasts forever except love.

I believe there are casual moments which are really wasted time as we could just get to know each other.

I STILL BELIEVE IN TIPPING WELL IN ALL CASH!

I know there is an afterlife. I have experienced it in many occasions that are undeniable.

I believe in order over freedom but never over equality.

I believe that hysterectomies can be the root of all happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God is Orange

orange chair

I threw myself into alcohol oblivion while going to different bars hoping no one would recognize me from other bars in town. I was living with my best friend’s mom and she was nice enough to take me in and help me detox and provide much love that I desperately needed. She was a Eucharistic Minister that attended church everyday who was serving God by helping me. And it felt wonderful to be around someone who was not toxic but only held great concern for me.

It was the next day at her house that the truth about my alcoholism became utterly apparent. And one would think  that after the detox, the shakes, the sounds, the voices,the chills, sleepless nights and countless cigarettes that I would never dare touch the stuff again. But it didn’t take long for me to relapse and I started right where I left off; wanting to die.

I knew of one place I could go to get help but I thought I was better than those women. They were criminals and prostitutes with their kids taken away. I could not get help with this sort of foul-natured types. I was from Thousand Oaks. I was upper middle class and I was not about to go.

Jose, a busboy from work confronted me one day. “I saw you running in your car today.””Running?” I thought to myself. I had no clue what he was talking about. “I spoke to the Holy Spirit today and he said you are not one the right path. That God has other plans for you.” This was not what I wanted to hear.

Yet he was right, entries from my journal begged for death from this torturous life I was living. I could not see any way out. It was just a matter of time before I would end it.

A few nights later, I dreamed that I walked into “The House of Hope.” This was the place where the criminals roamed and the prostitutes taunted. But I walked in and the entire room was decorated with orange furniture with barely any room to actually move.

A woman asked, ” What do you want?” I answered in a soft voice that I was looking for the House of Hope. “You got insurance?” she asked. “No, I will go.” I said. “Now wait a minute I will be right back.”She shuffled through the orange furniture until she found her way out. All I could hear as she walked off was something extremely foreign to my ears.

When she left I noticed a radio. But what played from it seemed unfamiliar. It was like a thousand angels singing at once. Music so beautiful, I became mesmerized and I completely forgot the orange room with the firm lady and why I was even there in the first place. It was the loveliest sound I had ever heard in all of my life. No instruments, only acapella. And voices sung from the end of time out of the speakers of this old rusty radio that radiated the unconditional love that we all search for.

Then I woke up.

I could not shake this orange room dream. It was like no other. And for the next few nights when I woke up I felt like someone was holding me in my bed. But I was alone. Things were not making sense.

My best friend’s mom became aware I had relapsed. The feeling in the house grew cold.When I fist moved in all doors were open throughout the house and now they were closed. I was making the mom sick with stress. No one wants an active alcoholic in their home. Yet I had nowhere to go.

She finally confronted me one morning after I had a night where I blacked out and made a terrible mess in her home. I did not deny anything. But I was not about to go through withdrawals again without  being under the care of a doctor.

I was  accepted in the hospital and I shook and I sweat and I was scared and I was ashamed. The doctor gave me some Valium but when I went to sleep I dreamed of some snake man pushing me into a smelly swamp of serpents. “Is this where you want to be?” The Snake Man screamed. “Is this what you want?”

I actually woke up and I was sure that the doctor had given me LSD. But this was good old fashioned delirium tremens. Like many before me, I was experiencing hell on earth.

When I was finally released from the hospital I was pretty ecstatic. I had no cravings for alcohol and I was willing to do what it takes. I told my best friend’s mom that I was not going to call the House of Hope, I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I just want to see if it is orange.

Down into the barrio I went. The streets of San Pedro shared great violence among its residents. But I had nowhere to go. And as I pulled up in front of this halfway house/rehab I could not help but notice two of the brightest orange chairs sitting outside the gate waiting as if to say hello. ORANGE. No doubt about it. Flawless beautiful orange.

And I was home.