It would only seem fair that since this is the start of a new journey for me, then it would only make sense to start this with a new journal as well.
The journal before this was personal. I admit this is true.
Then again, anything written from the heart or anything which is true to the soul is personal.
So, to be true to myself and true to my mission, I have to be true to my word as well.
As always, my aim is to speak to you.
This is why I write the way I do.
I want you to think and feel and see what I’m seeing.
I want to write as if I am talking to you, like two people would speak when no one else is around.
I write to you in the voice of a real person. I have not come here to satisfy the literary snobs or to please the grammar police nor am I here to compete with other writers or to act as some kind of flowery writer with all the cool pronouns.
As a matter of fact, I don’t even know what it means to be cool.
I just know what it means to be me.
I have no time for the critics. Besides, after years of ups and downs and mild to moderate hardships or due to even intense disappointments, I had to realize that my life needed to change. And again, I am working to change my life on a daily basis. As are you, I suppose. As is anyone else in this world because change is ongoing; but more, change is always eventual and inevitable.
So this is my preface.
This is where I begin to detail the list of tasks and goals, hopes and dreams, wishes and drives to accomplish a good life and to see the world or experience life on a daily basis.
And yes, that’s right.
This happens one day at a time.
I come here on a daily basis, which is something that you already knew.
I come here to speak openly and freely; but above all, I come here to speak honestly about common things. Yet as common as life can be, most people keep quiet about the concepts of their heart or their mind. And it’s true what people say. It’s okay to say if you’re sick or if you have a cold or headache or if you have physical tragedy or it’s fine to regard a physical emergency; however, we experience mental health and emotional challenges far more often than we encounter the need to go to the doctor or the emergency room.
But God forbid we talk about this openly or honestly.
No one wants to talk about their problems because problems can constitute weakness.
Right?
But not us, at least not here.
We can talk about anything.
This is where we can hold each other accountable and keep ourselves safe in a comfortable rhythm of confidential anonymity.
I love that word . . . anonymity.
I combine this with tranquility
and serenity.
I come here to narrate my views from the eyes of my soul and, therefore, I do this from a subjective standpoint. However, I offer these entries without holding back or softening my truths to save my ego.
As a means to be relatable, I refer to myself and the world around me.
I write about what I see or think. I write about the world as a witness to what takes place, which might run the gamut between good and bad – but either way, I know that we all have the ability to know what’s happening around us or to think about what we see or to process how we feel when life shows up and changes take place.
I have been at this for a long time now . . .
I made a promise to myself that I would come here on a daily basis. I promised myself that I would sit down every morning and that I would write myself a letter – so to speak.
Come to think of it, my Grandmother used to sing that song to me when I was a small boy. She passed when I was 12, so my memories of her are faded yet I can remember the sound of her voice, soothing as ever, and the feel of her hands, soft to the touch, like warm silk, or as I always like to compare it; her hands were gentle with a touch that feels warm like a chenille blanket swaddled around the body of a newborn child.
My Grandmother would sing, “I’m gonna sit right down and write myself a letter and make believe it came from you.”
There are more words to the song, I know. But for this entry and for this purpose, I think the meaning fits why I come here on a daily basis.
I sit down and write this to you, as if you were here, right next to me.
My words are not written from a grammatical perspective; however, I write just to reach you because otherwise the world is a lonely place without you.
These entries have been lifesaving to me. Then again, so have you.
This back and forth between us moment and the details which I hold dearly and you keep secret are worth more than the stars in the sky.
I have an idea . . .
As I sit down and type my thoughts to you, I am sitting in somewhat of a dive hotel, which is not to say this is the worst place that I’ve ever stayed.
But I can say that there are no bells or whistles when it comes to room service or five-star treatment.
I am in New Mexico. Albuquerque to be exact.
I came down here on a mission and yes, I can say that I accomplished this mission.
Well – at least halfway.
I still have to return home safely, which is always a top priority.
I have come here to see a place which I have been regarding in my journals and writing about for years. But finally, I decided to put up instead of shut up. I rolled the dice and boarded a plane. I took a drive about 90 miles north of where I’m staying and found my way to a little town called Chimayo.
I went to the old Church . . .
People come here because supposedly, the dirt in the ground is said to be Holy.
I saw people attend the old adobe Church in wheelchairs and with walkers, casts and people like me, weeping in prayer on one knee – praying as if our prayers could somehow help or change the outcome of some kind of terrible or tragic fate.
I am proud to have made this trip. I am proud to have touched the “holy dirt” and sift this through my fingers.
I did what I intended.
I kept my word and here I am, awaiting the time to turn around and go home.
I did it though.
I got on my knees before the altar and I wept with all of my heart.
I confessed.
Perhaps I always saw myself as a child of a lesser God.
But either way – whether God heard or exists, I offered myself up to the grace of something above me.
Please . . . I said.
Save me from myself.
Let me go.
Let me try.
Let me get away from myself.
let me be in love.
Let me be honest
Let me be rid of the catastrophes that kept me sick or silent.
Let me let go of the past.
Let me be unafraid to try and not worry.
Let me remove myself from these constant intimidations.
Let me learn to love the right way.
Let me show “her” how much she means to me – her eyes and the way they glimmer, and her smile, and the way she makes me feel.
Please, let me have her.
I know that she is a gift to the world.
But I need her too.
I may not be deserving, but I need her more than anyone else in this world.
So, please . . .
Let me
I kissed the dirt from my fingers and I wished with all I have.
I know if “You” were there . . .
You would have wept with me too and perhaps, you’d say
I am right here.
(always)
This trip was bigger than you or me. This trip was more than a need to see a place which I had only seen in pictures.
This was about a need. This was about a want and a desire.
This trip was about love, as in my love.
This trip was to heal my heart and to soften the jagged edges of my soul, which have been fractured by the saw blades of resentment.
I made this trip in pain with a back problem that stretches down the back of my leg, which made for an uncomfortable flight. Even more, this made for an uncomfortable car ride too. But again, this trip was bigger than me. I could have been in worse pain to the point where I couldn’t even stand and still – I would have made my way over to Chimayo.
And pain – sure.
Pain and I go back a long time.
We know each other quite well.
We’re on a first name basis.
However, since recent times have shown me that certain relationships need to split before others can blossom, I think that pain and I are fine to go in two separate directions.
As I mentioned, I have been on this journey for a while now. I am both consistent and persistent with this goal. Over the years, I have poured my heart out. I have revealed my story. I have told my truths and fessed up to my untruths or the unkindness of my deeds.
I am more than my history and historically, I have seen the connection to my faults as they pertain to my history. I realize that unless I sever the ties or change the terms of my relationship with yesterday, I will never learn to fully enjoy or embrace the moment that I have now, which means that I can find myself back in my past and then tomorrow will be more of the same.
I have offered my apologies. I have confessed my sins and like a suggestion I was given years back, I have made a list of all the people I had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.
I remember a friend of mine, who I admired and respected, told me, “And don’t forget to put your name on that list too.”
He told me, “Come to think of it, I think your name should be first on the list because it’s time for you to heal.”
“Because otherwise, what’s the point?” he asked.
My life has gone in so many directions. I am more than my journey and more than the details of my past or the crimes of emotional felonies, misdemeanors or violations of the heart.
I am more than this thing we call “recovery” and more than “sobriety.” More than anything, I am more than depression or anxiety or the details of my story which nearly ended abruptly by my own hand. I have come so far since the days of longstanding dope nods, which is where I thought I learned the secrets between heaven and hell.
I had to make a list of people who I had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all.
I’ve done this. But more, I executed this list and achieved its completion on a steady and ongoing basis.
But wait . . .
There’s more.
This is my opening to my next journal.
This is about a list of sorts which can be called a bucket list, or if nothing else, these entries will consist of dreams and hopes and goals and places I’d like to explore.
Today, I wake to a morning of especial achievement.
I can cross this off my list but rest assured, I will return Chimayo.
But next time, my love will be by my side
because I want you to meet her – the love of my life.
I want to see things and there will be times when I have to go at this alone, like now. But don’t worry, I always bring a piece of you with me. Just like I did with Chimayo which is why I am bringing a piece of New Mexico home with me – to keep safe and to remember that yes, the world is big and beautiful and the stars are amazing.
It’s time to see the world now
and, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch the sunrise come up from the east as I drive through the mountains on the west.
The Written Addiction 