Her serene stare
At the sea
As the waves run up the beach
As the bodies lie
Motionless and sad
In their calm prayer for change
In their dull existence
For another day to be different
While no effort was put forth.
The sand is cold to the touch
But seagulls don’t complain
At least we don’t know that
We let them have their own time
The ones who cry all the time
Is ourselves: for space, for care
These miserable passengers,
They take the finger and eat the whole hand
And yet there is no happiness in that
It is never enough
Her eyes see no possibility
Of the future
Just the moment of current shine
There was no shelter to avoid cold
Of the natural rage of what sea brings
In the daylight bodies stood and tried to walk
Yet late night saw them give up
And fall like cut trees
As I walk down the beach line every morning
I see and wonder each time
Will it ever change
Will they learn
What can I do to make a difference
But only death of the brain
All else is futile
For her eyes see no chance of love
Just every day awakening of life
A chance to crawl and run
And fend for oneself.
the front image was copied from ‘ere http://www.wallpapers13.com/seagulls-on-the-beach-desktop-hd-wallpaper-2560×1440/. thanks.
(I may have written about it already. I’m too lazy to search. I’d rather write another one. That’s how beyond help I am, haha.)
This talking about a drug of choice is crap. Come on already! Did we really choose to be addicted? Drugged? OK, killing the pain, sure, give me anything. But the first time I went for a beer, I just wanted to see what’s the whole hype was about. There was no choice of intoxication. But it hooked me in right away. Serenity in excitement. Illusory reality. Love at first hit.
In other words, no choice.
There was a choice not to drink a mugful of vodka. There was a choice not to talk lustfully to someone’s girlfriend after chugging two six packs of beer. There was a choice not to tell cops where to go. And a hundred other choices too. But when it came to taking the first beer/glass of wine/another liquid form of punch in a face… you know what I’m about to say, right?
It is now that I can choose my relatively harmless poison. A coffee, a tea, a Red Bull, or something without caffeine but full of sugar to kick me brain rolling happily in me skull. However when an alcoholic goes for an alcoholic beverage, it’s really not a choice. To a bystander, no matter how close-hearted they are to the addict, that looks like a choice. But to the drunk/drug-fiend it is a no choice situation. We didn’t choose it then, and we don’t choose it now. We got to have it, like our blood needs oxygen and we involuntary open our mouths to inhale air.
You feel blue? Go choose a puppy or something. Or maybe…it chose you already and is out there, wagging his tail eagerly, attracting your attention? See… it’s tricky, isn’t it? Now think of a person hooked on something that is promised to give salvation, no matter how long, no matter what price. Again, I’m not talking about those ‘normal people.’ I don’t know how they work. I am talking about them who are fucked. Like me. Do they have a choice in their pain, standing in their puke, sick and tired of being shitty and fired? That’s no choice. It’s that temporary, seemingly absolute power that corrupts absolutely. That’s doom. Call it drug of doom. Now that’s fair.
the image was copied from https://ih1.redbubble.net/image.10604623.2121/flat,800×800,070,f.jpg thanks.
dedicated to the memory of Don F. who taught me that
life is a movie and I better relax and thoroughly enjoy it.
Each time I go on a trip overseas I take something to read. I am a reader, I’m a writer, I’m a boredom fighter, you know. And since the world can go mad around me, and me at it, I try to keep some literature with me on these trips that would keep me sane, something that I can find inspiration in when my uncommon sense, and knowledge, and experience is on a tear or just about. I used to take the Big Book of AA with me for the first several years of sobriety. In later years, I chose to just take a couple of AA Grapevine magazines – more newer stories, some jokes, and it doesn’t take too much space. It was always a great help even if I never opened them on the trips. Just the presence and connection to a meeting and a helping hand was comforting and provided for some mental stability.
Well this last time I went for a trip to Europe to visit my family at Xmas time, and preparing for that was a bit chaotic. I had a list of what to take, but schedules sort of worked against me, and to put it short, I forgot all of my AA printed material. In the end it all worked out the way it was supposed to be, but of course I have to tell you about it… So here’s the story. A weird one, perhaps.
For the starters, I am a massive fan of Stephen King. Started with “Carry” twenty years ago and still read like a maniac. Couple years back “Doctor Sleep” novel came out, presented as a sequel to “The Shining”. I loved “The Shining” movie, so I figured this would be great. It was, the book flowed very well, as it usually goes with King. But there were things that bothered me. I realized that I couldn’t recall a whole bunch of names and some situations that King described in the sequel referring to the original. And there was a very good reason for that.
I haven’t read “The Shining” book. I started reading it in high school, but couldn’t get past 30 pages. To me it was nowhere near the fun of “Carrie” or “The Firestarter”, and although it was promising the furor, it didn’t have the momentum of intensity. So that was the first time I ever put King’s book down.
Now, reading “Doctor Sleep” I realized that I need to fill in the gaps. The “Shining” movie was great, but how much stuff may have been omitted from it? So I went back to “The Shining” book and read it. And then I knew why I couldn’t read it the first time, at the age of 16. Thing is, there is a lot of psychology going on in that book. Jack Torrance’s alcoholic issues affecting everything else in the family, including marriage and parenting, real life dark and scary stuff – there was no way I’d be interested in grinding through that in my adolescence. Although if I did, hell knows, maybe my life would be quite different now because I learned something about alcoholism earlier?
I finished reading “The Shining” in about a month. There was a lot of stuff to grind through. Back to “Doctor Sleep” I went, reading in the airports and on planes, and I found a strange thing: this was basically my AA related material that I thought I forgot at home when packing for the trip. Why? Because while in “The Shining” Jack goes through heavy drinking time and quits on his own, only to have that disease questioned and used against him by the malevolent forces in the Overlook hotel, in “Doctor Sleep” Jack’s son, Danny, who survived the horror of Overlook, became an alcoholic as well, only he managed to join AA and stay sober for years. Now, Mr. King has been an alcoholic and prescription drug addict for years, so the stories of substance abuse run through his books quite often. This time as a writer he went deeper than usual about abuse and recovery. In “Doctor Sleep” he quotes AA Big Book often and shows Dan’s way through the throngs of a classic AA newcomer, although abundantly laced with terrifying parts that Stephen King the Master of Horror is so famous for.
So I kept going with reading the spooky story by King (who seems to be only getting better in this field) and “drinking” from the well of sobriety wisdom. Things King wrote about recovery weren’t new to me, but they way he focussed on them, and the fact he associated with plenty of them for his own sobriety’s sake, – for me that resonated in a very new way. I appreciated the message that once saved my life and kept making me stronger even more now.
Thus, once again, my Higher Power has directed me correctly on the path of my life, with inspiration and wisdom, and yet again in a fun way of messaging. Most of my vacation was great, but there were times I wanted to pull my hair when communicating with people. And for those challenging occasions the message directed at Dan Torrance in his insane and darkest hours seemed to be tailored just rightly for me as well. It kept me together. It made me shake my head at how right it fitted the moment. And the part where Dan celebrates an incredible milestone with his home group, I had tears in my eyes (which happens rather rarely) because the message was right just as much as true, because I was also there, and I could feel it, the truth and the fellowship, and the promise, and it’s power.
Needless to say, I packed for the trip better than I thought I did. Just as for the body and the soul, it was also very good for the mind. And am I ever grateful, even for the weirder times. Especially for the weirder ones.
the front images were copied from http://cdn.bloody-disgusting.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/doctor-sleep-01.jpg and https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/4/4c/Shiningnovel.jpg and http://i.ebayimg.com/images/i/222001098953-0-1/s-l1000.jpg . thank you.
I’m not done getting over you.
Yes, I said it, grieving time will take a long, and that would involve doubting, and self-pity, and bursts of anger, and desire to bargain. So it’s normal not to be over this broken relationship just yet, but I still want to write about it.
I’m not done with keeping alive a tiny flame of hope that we may start together again one day. I miss you in so many ways that I can’t believe we can’t be close. Every day I have these short memories of things we used to do, and each time they are gone, I’m left wondering why can’t we be one when those things were so good while we were side by side.
Then I’d think of that, and realize that you that I want to be with is the one I used to know and loved that much. You are now a new you, the one trying to move on and let go, checking out new things that shape you into a different person. This new you have looked inside for long, seeing what you and I were, questioning, doubting, raging, crying about what we couldn’t preserve. The person who is coming out after these long gazes may not be the one I loved so dearly and the one I want back. I tell myself I’ll be happy to take you back whichever the way you are, but then I realize that I lie. I’ve been looking inside and raged and doubted, and frowned aplenty to know I am different too and my visions about who I want and needed may have changed as well.
And still, I am walking the road of hesitation and certainty, at equal parts, and one part wants you so crazily, and another one pulls the first one back and tells it of so many possibilities, and the one that wants you crazily agrees and nods, yet still looks back and screams, and calls, ready to give up itself just to have you back in my arms.
It’s been a month and a half and I am not done getting over you. One day I will, but hell do I hate this pendulum-moving moods.
I heard the word. I knew the meaning. I knew I’d have to deal with it sometimes.
Last time I had to deal with it, I knew nothing. My girlfriend left after a tumultuous one-year relationship. I was left alone in the country still new to me, with no family, no close friends, just people I knew from school I went to. So I had no idea what was hitting me and why wouldn’t it stop causing me pain. At the same time, continuing to drink heavily did help to relieve some pain, although next day I’d be dealing with grieving and hangover. Very questionable cure, no?
Eleven years later it came back.
Actually no, not so easy. The thing is grieving is not just when you lose a person. It could be leaving or been let go from job, being robbed, etc. For example, I had quite a bit of grieving time last year I knew I’ll have to be leaving my job in the workplace where, in different stages and positions, I spent 7.5 years. Although no one made me go, per se, the conditions and the atmosphere were worsening, and I had to look for a new job and then work at it part time, while still keeping the full time one. By the time my part time position turned into full time, and I quit first job it’s been two months. Those two months of doubting, fuming, clenching fists and mentally saying goodbyes, that helped a lot later on, because by the time I started the full time job at the new place, all the feeling of regret and loss and anger left me. I was serene with my departure and leaving people and things behind, and I was fully ready for what was waiting ahead for me.
But a year later there was another curve. That the one of which I originally said “11 years later, it came back.” Yes. My eight-year relationship with a lady with whom I was by then engaged, that journey was over. We started to grow apart from each other, I guess, stuck on certain things we couldn’t let go of and looking for different things that wouldn’t work for both of us. That’s a situation in a nutshell, explained in a very primitive manner. But however basic I described it, eight-year union, hell, this was one was three times longer than all my other relationships together. It would be fair to say that this break up will hurt me more than all the others put together. Or something similar to that.
This time I was sober for over a decade. I was no longer fired from jobs on a regular basis for being irresponsible. On contrary, people I worked with and for expressed gratitude for what I do. I went to my support meetings and chatted with people in recovery on a regular basis. My family is a great support to me as well, as they’ve been through the years. I knew the world wasn’t perfect and secured some positions of my life to lean on and take cover when it gets tough.
Yet it still hurts. It has to. Such is the grieving process design. It has stages – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and eventually acceptance, and all those are in play, not necessarily in that order, and they could come back and go and come back again. I dealt with denial and anger first, then some acceptance came in. I never thought it would, but bargaining happened two weeks in, when I tried to reconcile with my ex-partner. Strangely enough, acceptance was soaring over it unmasked. So I know it all could change and go over, however my mind will play it out, affected by internal processes, as well as close environmental changes. I will be going over and over this in my head some days, figuring out what figured out already. I’ll be sad. My eyes would get wet every once in a while, and it will be hard to breathe. Then I’ll be OK and yell cocky anthems of freedom and Gods know what else. Then I’ll get down again.
Once I realized that all can be and witnessed a confirmation to that over and over, I thought of something else which never dawned on me and what I didn’t hear other people say.
I recalled a month long separation from my girlfriend who I was with for a year while still drinking. It reminds me a lot of what I am dealing with now, because I still live in the same apartment as I did then and it was also in mid/late September as the latest break up happened. And yes, I was still drinking, and trying to quit. Only at that time I had no idea what I was doing. I was battling lots of things in my head. Justification, regret, righteousness, loss, and anger toward myself for not being able to stop poisoning myself on regular and volunteer basis.
The reason I thought of that is that now that I am looking back on my life of eight years with that woman, knowing that this transition would benefit me, but also missing and needing her presence greatly, trying to figure out some things that are still unclear, battling with myself on the right motives of doing certain things while being together, – it all feels similar to what my life was like separating with another woman, as well eventually, almost a year later, battling and finally quitting drinking alcohol. Why was quitting drinking so hard? Because I was thoroughly dependent on it. Letting go of this substance was extremely hard, because although it poisoned my body and mind, it created a temporary illusion of normalcy and joy that made me tolerate the world around me that I was at war with.
Yes, the amount of time I spend in my head thinking things over is pretty much unstoppable and that’s why my current grieving over the broken long term committed romantic relationship is similar to the process of quitting drinking.
Weird? I think not. I think it is bizarre I haven’t thought of it earlier. Because now that I see it that way, I can think of some other things to include in my daily and nightly routine to help me get through. I am going to make sure prayer and meditation is even more present in my life than before. I plan to eat healthier, including lots of bananas. Hey, a psychiatrist in Russia recommended me to eat bananas over anti-depressants on a regular basis! My sleep patterns are kinda messed up since I work night shift, but I can try to keep it steady. I’ll exercise more. I hang out with people more than before. And I’ll write. Stay creative. Listen to the music that kicks my butt to go and get active. I dealt with these things before, so I should eventually be OK, right? So the research says. So also say people I know from self-help meetings. And my dog will keep my day schedule disciplined as he always did, haha.
I’m moving on. I’m told it’s gonna be hard, and I believe it and I accept it. That way it should be a bit easier, shouldn’t it?
Among the green lit by sun,
Morning mists just vanished,
Around the coat of arms
Mowed in the grass
With flower beds so tight, so vast,
Not minding the sprinkles raging,
I see you walk, without a care
So I assume,
Melancholy reigns your mind,
Or deep thoughts you’re enjoying,
Unravelling secrets you desire,
One way or other.
I watch you tirelessly,
Each minute under European skies
Is the blessing of peace
My psyche requires
Away from want and need
Until the world again awakens
In its rage for intoxication
Of things, ideas, and beliefs.
[image was copied from http://s1.1zoom.net/big0/100/426900-svetik.jpg. thanks.]
Civil war insanity
Interests and values,
Pissing on belief systems
And questions morality.
So is in my head
When I doubt sanity
And worship chaos.
Axl blares on,
Wondering what’s civil
About war anyway.
It’s a nasty business
In which no one truly wins.
With me, it’s a dispute in which
If there is a gain,
It’s only a temporary euphoria
Of the party that needs
Fairytales more than anything.
In the end all forces die
To black oblivion
That takes hours to dissipate
Before new life of suspicion