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11!

I’m 11 years old today. More of my rebirth date than my birth date. I returned my old life to God’s store. It was tattered and moldy. I had worn it out. The colors had faded and it no longer kept the wind and cold out. My life walked around like a man without a mind or heart. I was the walking dead.

The difference is that you cant really kill a zombie by shooting him in the head. I had to be shot in the heart and soul as well. I had hardened to life. The pain was so great in my heart. I felt empty and unloved. I craved connection. It was empty and desolate. I had protected it with the concrete I had at hand. I couldn’t let the pain in, but it also blocked the little bit of love from getting in and any love from getting out.

There were many attempts to shoot my heart and soul. The scales I had developed to protect myself from the pain were unpenetrated. However, inside the scales, I suffocated. I begged God to remove the scales. He told me it was going to hurt and so I walked away. As the pain got worse and the scales grew thicker, the light dimmed. I asked for the scales to be removed and again I was told it would hurt. Again I walked away. The pain became unbearable. I was so burdened with the scales, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t move. I begged for the removal again. God aid it was going to hurt, and I stood still. Over and over, God peeled the scales. He struck and swiped and clawed. I bled and screamed and felt the exquisite pain.

The pain did not stop when the scales fell away. Years later, my life was in turmoil. Everything vanished.. The pain has been intense followed by a slow white hot burn. The intensity increases over and over again, burning like vomit in your esophagus, coking the life away. There are some days I can keep it at bay. There are times I can work through it and live a life. There are also days that the pain devours my soul. “Some days you eat the bear, and some days the bear eats you.”

It is said that after a rebirth, life gets better. IT wasn’t that way for me. Things got much worse and now, I could feel it. I wasn’t sure I would survive.

I didnt

I find myself deep within myself. I discovered that I could show my inner self and be safe. I could allow myself to be accepted or rejected without it affecting who I was. I did not get to play the country song backward and have my dog live, my wife return and get my pickup back. Things have not been easy. The difference is that I am present. I am alive. I don’t ever want to live it again and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. However, I wouldn’t trade it.

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Posted by on November 6, 2017 in journey

 

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dance of the walking dead

I want a vacation. I want to totally rest. I think it is a fools errand to take vacation to go do stuff. I want to do nothing. I want to expel no energy whatsoever.

Here is my plan for a restful vacation. I have saved up some money and I am going to admit myself to a hospital. I am going to demand tube feeding because it is a suckers game to spend all that time chewing and tasting. I would forego food all together but I think that dying would take more energy then just maintaining a caloric intake. Originally, I thought I would want to be on a ventilator so I didn’t have to breath on my own, but It looks rather uncomfortable. I decided on an iron lung. That way I don’t have to use muscles to expand or deflate my lungs. Again, I had an errant thought that perhaps I could retrofit one to also be a suntan booth, but I don’t even want my melanocytes to have to work that hard. There could be a TV in there playing movies that I didn’t have to think too hard, but all the energy of keeping my eyes open seems exhausting. There was one flaw to my plan, yep my heart. That silly thing just keeps pumping, it speeds up and slows down but it seems to be more reliable then any Timex I ever had. When I was an intern working in the ER, I was disimpacting a bowel (hmm another thought) when this horrific plunging noise came from the trauma area. IT repeated every 8 seconds or so and I had to see what was making the racket. “Hold everything,” I said to the constipated patron. In the other room was a huge machine with a plunger like apparatus. IT was shaped like a c-clamp and the plunger dove down the middle pinching to the gurney. Beneath the gurney was an enormous blue limp fellow. The only movement was the reflex movement or his arms and legs as “the thumper” performed CPR. The ER attending explained that the man was so big that no one could compress his chest well enough to perform CPR I asked how well it worked, and he replied, “only slightly better than not doing it at all.” My over active imagination immediately saw it as a garbage disposal for damaged hearts. I’m going to need “the thumper” please. I think 5 days will be refreshing and give me enough time to be ready to return to work, pale, thumped, and well rested.

I have lived a life on life support. The reality I am facing is that I spent time just surviving and not really living. I didn’t let my melanocytes work and it stopped the glow of joy. I feared life and it dulled my experience and my participation. I hid in the darkness, shutting myself off from the Sunlight. I refused to be inspired or to inspire. I longed to breath but held my breath wanting to keep what I had at the cost of not letting anything else in. I begged for the thumper, my heart is broken and damaged and instead of letting it heal, I covered it in layers of inert thought living it on like fatty tissue. I kept longing for the old familiar beat of every 8 seconds instead of letting the changes occur naturally and living into them instead o running away. I help on to the waste and garbage. I retained all the pain and despair .I was the walking dead.

There is a moment in time that all life began. Regardless of world view, at one point nothing, in the next everything. I have had 2 such moments. One I don’t remember except for some masked man spanking my cold butt. The other was nothing more than a whisper. It said, “Trudge.” For me the definition of trudge is “walk with purpose.” Slowly, I listened. The word echoes in my brain and in my heart (now beating on its own, thank you). I knew I was not completely sane if I was choosing death over life and I made a decision to follow that voice. I began by looking at and eliminating the waste I had accumulated. There would always be residual and more would appear, but I can deal with that when it happens. I asked the voice to remove the thumper and teach me to mend my broken and misguided heart. As that happened, I began to be inspired by others who have begun to dance the dance of the living rather than the walking dead. I joined in the mainstream of life. I took a deep breath, letting the wind dwell inside. The Ruah (wind or Holy Spirit) danced inside. It was gasping and choking breath at the start. It felt foreign and unnatural. It burned like when it is hot and humid outside. The Spirit inspired.

There are times that I still want a vacation. It isn’t always easy. I am still mending a broken heart and will breath short rapid breaths that do little to fully inspire. I long for easy. I long for love. I strive to Trudge.

 

 
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Posted by on July 8, 2017 in journey, life

 

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fascinated

It has been 5 years. 5 years since I consented to leave my house and wife. 5 years since I have had a thriving relationship with my daughters. 5 years of seeing the faces of former friends and heard the clicks of tongues. 5 years since the goal to humiliate and decimate me was paramount. 5 years since I heard the thud of hitting rock bottom.

It has been 5 years since I planted a new seed. It has been 5 years since I had to be an adult and learn to take care of myself. 5 years since I began to learn how to like myself. 5 years of learning to get back up after being knocked down. 5 years since I was given the gift of seeing who around me was really a friend. 5 years since I hit my rock bottom and bounced.

I cant believe it has been that long. It seems like such a short time ago that I was desperate to be liked. It was a short time ago that I craved intimacy on any level. It was a short time ago that I needed someone else to state my worth before I could see it.

I cant believe it has been so long. It seems like the pain should be over by now. It seems like my journey since then has been a million miles. It feels as though I have been in a sprint for the entire time. I scramble and collect. I trudge. I regroup. I stand firm and I waiver. I still hear the echoes of the clucking tongues. I feel the angst from my estranged children. I feel the thud of rock bottom.

I will trudge another day.

 
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Posted by on April 21, 2017 in journey, life

 

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I.P. Freely

I have made mistakes in my life. Its true. I also have learned to accept the consequences and take responsibility. It sounds easier than it is, but it seemed necessary and important. I have been on a growth journey learning to be completely honest. IT has been rewarding, albeit painful. I was about 7 years sober when I moved to Idaho. I had applied for a medical license here after having trouble in Colorado. It is a long story that can be gleened from my other posts. I met with the board here and they offered me a stipulated license. I commented that if that was going to be, please just dont give me one as it is pretty useless when stipulated. I had applied for 500 jobs and couldnt get one because of the stipulation. The board understood and awarded me an unrestricted license if I would voluntarily submit to random urinalysis tests. I agreed.

The way it works is every morning you call into the screener. I have an image of the banks of computers like in the 70’s evil genius movies. The computer then identifies you and whirls its wheels to determine if you should submit your liquid gold that day. In an even tone, the computer voice then tells you that you have not been chosen or you are chosen.  I was never chosen for teams in grade school, so this confuses me a little. I want to be chosen, to vindicate my 8 year old chubby self. But I dont want to be chosen because of the hassle that will follow. This day I was chosen. I am elated and bummed.pee

The preparations for leaving liquid gold is complex. There are rules of no caffeine three hours before testing, no more than 100cc of water 30 minutes prior. It has to meet criteria on having at least some color.  I generally would drink my morning coffee and water. I would hold it until about 10 am. Then I would pee and chase it with a glass of water. This way I would have the required amount of concentrated urine at noon. Generally, things go much better if you are proactive enough to fill out the paperwork ahead of time. The machine alerted you to the secret test that was to be done. You have checked the box and filled out the paper. You approach the building. I know it is sanitary and well cleaned, but for some reason whenever I remember it, it smells like urine in my head. You hand over the triplicate form that says, “This person has urine and we need it.”pee3

After they know you, they will get you in quickly. This is good, because generally you present needing to pee badly. The program changed after I started and all the urine collections had to be observed. This never really bothered me, but many people talked about having a shy bladder. I cant imagine exposing yourself to some stranger and then not being able to pee. It would prolong the discomfort. What do you say at that point? “Sorry, it was working earlier”?

One of the guys who watched us pee was a very large guy. He had the shape of the guy in Green Mile. His teeth were not as straight nor his voice as deep. His fingers were at least 2 feet long. If I stand up very straight, I can be 5 foot 7. My fingers are average and my voice is also not as deep as the Green Mile guy. There is no guy I have ever met that doesn’t wonder if he is long enough below the waist. The average size has decreased from 6.3 inches to 5.5, reportidly. A popular wives tale about the size of hands reflecting the size of genitalia has never been proven clinically. As the Green Mile stand in leads me to the bathroom, these are not the facts that cross my mind. I can feel my testicles hiding in my abdominal cavity. I wonder if I will ever be able to pee.  I have a thought that as I prepare, this massive guy is going to giggle and pat me on the head and say, “Good for you, little fella.” I was able to pee and two days later my testicles emerged. pee2

I have not had to pee for points in a few weeks, having completed the requirement. I still get up, drink my coffee and water and about 10 am need to pee. I consider holding it at noon every day and have often wondered if I will ever be able to spontaneously urinate without Green Mile watching me.

 
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Posted by on January 30, 2017 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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dark passenger and the stranger

It rides me like a dark passenger.passenger

I was unencumbered. I strode with cocky assurance. I was unaware and feeling on top of the world. IT happened in a flash. I almost didn’t recognize it. Actually, I didn’t recognize it. I didn’t feel my shoulders slump with the weight. I was unaware of his voice in my ear. It was familiar and strangely comfortable. He whispered posing questions of my deserving to feel happy. He tormented me with thoughts of arguments lost, disappointments gained, and opportunities unattained. He reminded me of history, blotting out successes and highlighting failures. I stooped. I buckled under the weight of the stories and the pain. The sky darkened and my mood followed.

I could barely move one foot in front of the other. I lumbered on like Charlie Brown, full of hope but eyes to the ground. I tried to keep going. I tried to put on a brave face. It was a lie. The voice rumbled, echoing in my subconscious. It reminded my of hopes dashed in the past. It reminded me of love lost and pain present. The voice urged me to stop moving, to turn and flee. It beckoned me to return to the past, the known, the familiar. It cautioned against risk. It pointed to the scars on my heart and soul. It giggled as I cried. fear

My eyes rose and rested on a stranger. I cant even recall if it was man or female. It seemed unimportant at the time and even less important now. The clothing was casual and nondescript. The face seemed to glow. It radiated. IT was blinding and yet I could see clearly. It was magnetic. The eyes, the smile seemed to pull me in. It would not let me go. It would not let my eyes sink again. The stranger said, “Ask.” I knew exactly what the stranger meant. I couldnt form the words. The stranger waited patiently, stood there lovingly. The eye, the wonderful star on the strangers face, winked. wink

“Take away my Fear, take away the Dark Passenger,” I blubbered. At once, I commenced to outgrow Fear.

 
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Posted by on January 27, 2017 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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Wonder Wheel

It starts like any other day. The first alarm goes off and I swipe my phone to silence it. I am not sure why I have this alarm set anymore. I started with it thinking I could get up early and go to the gym on the way to work. It sounded like a great idea when the light started at 430 am. I am in North Idaho and, in the summer, the days are very long.  It has become painfully obvious, it is not like that in the winter. However, the alarm taunts me. I must enjoy the teasing because I don’t cancel it. However, there is something very rewarding about getting to go back to sleep and feeling like you stole an hour. I struggle out of bed. I have fleece sheets and this miracle blanket from Bed, Bath and Beyond. It is fantastic, but glues me to the bed every morning. There is a cost: benefit ratio I have to accept every time I go to bed. I have chosen wisely. Once out of the vortex of comfort, I spin the mood wheel. My mood wheel is somewhat like the wheel of fortune wheel. It clicks away with various moods and attitudes on it. The mood spins and I imagine the crowd going crazy. I stand there and think about trying to accept Drew Carey as a substitute for Bob Barker and how unlikely a succession that was.  wheel

Drew then says, ” ok you have landed on 25% sour. Do you want to stay with that or spin again?  If you go over a dollar, you will feel totally overwhelmed all day long, an emotional basket case.  I feel a need to remind you of last Tuesday.” I am eager to not feel sour today, even 30% sour. I am looking for an attitude adjustment, a mood lift. I spin again. The crowd groans as they were rooting for a sour day. “Misery loves company, ” Drew murmurs. anguish

The wheel clicks ferociously and slows to a crawl. It is maddening to hear. The anticipation is thrilling and torturous. The crowd noise swells and dims as various emotions and attitudes flit by. It reaches a fever pitch as vengeful crests the top of the wheel. I gulp, 100% vengeful and 30% sour, I will be pissed and overwhelmed. I begin to worry as worry appears on the wheel. It is a worn out square, grooved from the frequency of the wheel stopping there. I let out an exasperated sigh as I thought I had finished with worry. Close behind worry was resentful. The crushing reality that my sour mood could lead to resentment and consume me into vengence and disquieted plagued my thoughts. I could feel the emotions as they clicked by. They choked me and overwhelm me. Each one I lamented and reflected. It was as if each square illuminated on my soul. It clawed at me. The wheel slowed to a stop. I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I feared the results. I shuddered to think I was doomed to boring and glum at best, and engulfed in anger at its worst. Drew said I should see this. He stammered. I looked up. Slowly. I read the square and read it again. I blinked away the tears. My breath quickened as my heart pounded.

The square said, “Free to choose.” And the wheel vanished. free

 

 
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Posted by on January 23, 2017 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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rock on, serenity

He sat and stared at the light reflecting off the polished stone. The stone had the word serenity etched into it. He pondered the meaning and the significance of the word as the light danced off the stone. He became absorbed in the dance. The light did a tango as his mind did a retrogressive groove. He recalled past loves and hates, success and disappointments. It wasn’t morbid, but more as an outsider. He felt like Scrooge hanging with Christmas Past. He could watch. He could gain understanding. He could grieve or rejoice. But he couldn’t change it. He couldn’t tell the boy to not smoke the cigarettes, steal the money, or lie. He couldn’t stop the hurt of shame or rejection. He could stop the phone call. He couldn’t stop the escape and fear. He couldn’t explain the cost of choices he would make. He couldn’t feel the victories or the celebrations either. He was inert in his past, ineffectual and a bystander. The remorse wasn’t what had taken place, but that he couldn’t affect it.

The word, “Serenity” bent the light as it slid across the rock. He sat and mused as it seemed to slide off the edge as he rotated the rock. He felt the darkness the rock must feel. He imagines the coldness in the dark as the future began to appear as if real and certain. He knew it was a lie, but he was curious. In the dark and foggy picture, a pit appeared. In it were lanky and malformed creatures, reminiscent of the Lord of the Rings character. There were dozens, making horrendous noises. All clamoring for attention, begging to be chosen. He knew that anyone of the creatures could be his future. He could chose anyone of them. He felt sick that this was the pit of his choice. Not one seemed to be pleasing or satisfactory. He lamented the past anew. His choices had led to the despair he saw before him. The Future was silent and wouldn’t answer the questions he had. The rock slid from his fingers and clattered to the table. The light returned, but to the other side of the rock. The future again appeared. The rock is concave and the light is focused at the base. The future was bright and the glare obscured the faces. The noises were soft and pleasing. The warmth undeniable. He felt the welcoming smiles. He felt the soothing beckoning. He looked at the rock. There was a tiny word on the concave surface. He could almost make it out. “Calamity”.

 
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Posted by on January 16, 2017 in journey, life, Uncategorized

 

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