So many of us souls who hid inside our minds. Experimenting with drugs until I found my favorite. Drink? Never could I tried many times but always got sick. I’m sure that saved me from becoming an alcoholic. So instead I became a tweaker. I see them now- the ones living in their heads like I did. I swear if I was ever around the stuff now I would turn and walk away. But there is that still small voice which says Please? Just a little bit? I am quite sure I would not partake but who knows-we know the fight is forever. Now all the meds I have to take to keep my RA sort of under control so no way would I mix anything with those. Strange the things that take over our minds will also take control of our bodies as we dance through the days & nights of sobriety.
Strange the years prior I had friends who loved downers, the mellow, slow high that just let you chill. That was never me. I was full of energy back then, so I don’t know why my Master for years at a time was Speed, GoFast, Bing Bing Bing, all of those nicknames - all I wanted was more- crank, Ice, Meth.
I do not blame my using for my having RA. My very straight sister who once favored a Scotch & Soda now & then. It is in the family, RA. I was clean long before the diagnosis. I thought about how I could have made this happen. Nope it was in me from birth.
Now the meds I hate all those years ago, are my life line. I can easily not take too many but the pain is brutal now & then.
So I used back then to try to outrun myself only to find that little girl who lost her Daddy at 12. I was running from how to deal with it.
Sorry for the long reply. Sometimes it just flows on its own.
I love your honesty and vulnerability in sharing your stories. I am so glad you and Britney are “home” for now. Enjoy your journey and all the stops along the way.
Glorious to know you as we approach your 14th sober birthday in 5 days. Ahh I remember yards and yards of orange track spread all over the house for my Hot Wheels. Great memories and I wish I still had that footlocker full of cars—they’d be worth a fortune today. Thanks for giving us some insight into your honest ideas of Home. 🙏
I especially appreciate the idea of more figurative homes: "I didn’t have a tribe or an ideology or any serious belief system. I copied and pasted other people’s lives onto my own, then quickly rejected those same lives out of hand because it never felt like “me,” even if I didn’t know precisely what “me” even meant. I see now this was my search for home. Inner home, behavioral home, spiritual home, literary home." Interesting notion of a "behavioral home" -- another way of describing self-trust?
Academia was a home for me for a time. So was the lit mag landscape, somewhat. I think all of us on Substack are trying to figure out what a literary home looks like now.
Man, I could have written this. It nearly to the T describes my life--the alienation, the endless running, the desire for home, the pathological (In my case, anyway) inability to fucking sit still. I am building my little home--for all sorts of reasons, I cannot run this time. So, I'm digging in. I really enjoyed this piece.
So many of us souls who hid inside our minds. Experimenting with drugs until I found my favorite. Drink? Never could I tried many times but always got sick. I’m sure that saved me from becoming an alcoholic. So instead I became a tweaker. I see them now- the ones living in their heads like I did. I swear if I was ever around the stuff now I would turn and walk away. But there is that still small voice which says Please? Just a little bit? I am quite sure I would not partake but who knows-we know the fight is forever. Now all the meds I have to take to keep my RA sort of under control so no way would I mix anything with those. Strange the things that take over our minds will also take control of our bodies as we dance through the days & nights of sobriety.
Strange the years prior I had friends who loved downers, the mellow, slow high that just let you chill. That was never me. I was full of energy back then, so I don’t know why my Master for years at a time was Speed, GoFast, Bing Bing Bing, all of those nicknames - all I wanted was more- crank, Ice, Meth.
I do not blame my using for my having RA. My very straight sister who once favored a Scotch & Soda now & then. It is in the family, RA. I was clean long before the diagnosis. I thought about how I could have made this happen. Nope it was in me from birth.
Now the meds I hate all those years ago, are my life line. I can easily not take too many but the pain is brutal now & then.
So I used back then to try to outrun myself only to find that little girl who lost her Daddy at 12. I was running from how to deal with it.
Sorry for the long reply. Sometimes it just flows on its own.
Peace & Best of what life has to offer 🕊️
I love your honesty and vulnerability in sharing your stories. I am so glad you and Britney are “home” for now. Enjoy your journey and all the stops along the way.
Glorious to know you as we approach your 14th sober birthday in 5 days. Ahh I remember yards and yards of orange track spread all over the house for my Hot Wheels. Great memories and I wish I still had that footlocker full of cars—they’d be worth a fortune today. Thanks for giving us some insight into your honest ideas of Home. 🙏
I especially appreciate the idea of more figurative homes: "I didn’t have a tribe or an ideology or any serious belief system. I copied and pasted other people’s lives onto my own, then quickly rejected those same lives out of hand because it never felt like “me,” even if I didn’t know precisely what “me” even meant. I see now this was my search for home. Inner home, behavioral home, spiritual home, literary home." Interesting notion of a "behavioral home" -- another way of describing self-trust?
Academia was a home for me for a time. So was the lit mag landscape, somewhat. I think all of us on Substack are trying to figure out what a literary home looks like now.
Man, I could have written this. It nearly to the T describes my life--the alienation, the endless running, the desire for home, the pathological (In my case, anyway) inability to fucking sit still. I am building my little home--for all sorts of reasons, I cannot run this time. So, I'm digging in. I really enjoyed this piece.