Full Blue Moon Dementia
Wednesday was like any other day; I was running late to work, scrambling for a parking place, had five back-to-back meetings with difficult clients and a staff meeting that went on for entirely too long. By four o’clock I’d just about had it, and if I wasn’t in recovery I would have been parading out...
When I started out in recovery, I was testing the waters. I came late to meetings so I didn’t have to deal with what I felt was insufferably happy small talk between members. I didn’t want to hold hands, I didn’t want a hug and I sat in the back of the room, glaring at...
2016, what can I say? You were a dog from hell, you were the best thing that ever happened, you were a combo of both that had me stressed out and hopeful. So much upheaval and change occurred that I barely had time to contemplate a reaction and instead I just went into autopilot. More...
Back when I was using heroin, robbing banks and going to jail on a regular basis, I kept to myself, avoiding family and what few friends I had left. Of course the rest of the world went about their business as usual and no matter what I did to ignore them, I was still forced...
The weather has changed, summer is over. Last night in Los Angeles I actually had to put on a coat. While I am not one to run out into the elements, gleefully trudging through a first snow or rushing to the countryside to witness the changing of the leaves (it’s the west coast we don’t...
I often hear people share in meetings that a Higher Power is a tough concept to deal with. Like many folks, when I first came into the fellowship, the “God” parts of the 12 steps repulsed me. All my life I resented the hell out of what I felt was the hypocrisy of organized religion;...
Patrick O’Neil was just another name being thrown around by this world class namedropper in my Creative Writers Guild. He meant nothing to me, just another name in a long list of names that Boston, captain namedropper, kept regurgitating week after week in our group. Patrick this, Patrick that, Patrick’s a punk rocker, Patrick’s an...
I pulled my last armed robbery 18 years, three months and 29 days ago—but who’s counting? It was a totally botched job. I was too high on drugs and afterwards the cops came to my house and arrested me. When I look back on that time in my life, I don’t recognize the person that...
I go to a lot of meetings. I tend to go to the same ones, see the same people and listen to the same shares. I do this because I know what to expect, and they know what to expect from me. There’s a familiarity in the incestuousness of repetition. It’s almost like going home...
It was at one of my first NA meetings, when I was newly clean off drugs, feeling really awkward, and all I wanted to do was use. I had just walked down the wheelchair ramp into the large basement meeting room of the church and, recognizing no one, immediately wandered over to the table...
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