To be honest, I do not believe that I am so different from anybody else. I have my differences too, but I am not so different. At least, not at my core, or at the root, which I find to be the platform or the base of who I am. We all have this. We have wants and needs.
I understand that flavors and taste may vary, but the core is the core, and so I ask the question – what do we want?
What does anybody want?
I often wonder if I really know the answer to this question.
However, I do know some things.
I know that I want to be free, as in free from my own bondage that goes on in my head, which only makes me human.
But still, I want to be relieved, or as it was mentioned to me in something I read a long time ago, called The Third Step Prayer because, yes, I want to be “relieved from the bondage of self.”
This will allow me to be relieved from the burdens of my degenerative ideas, such as blame, shame, fault, guilt and regret.
I often call these items the five fingers of rejective thinking which I repeat, each digit, or each finger represents blame, shame, fault, guilt and regret. When these five fingers close, this is what forms the fist that we use to beat ourselves up with.
I want to be free from this.
I want to be free from overthinking or the constant overanalyzing mind, which is enough to drive me crazy.
Most of all, I want to be free from internal ridicule, free from doubt, free from the inner demons and free from the insecure whispers who tend to speak louder than a scream. Hence, these are the whispers that distract me and speak louder than any other voice we hear.
I am small in so many ways. Yet, I am growing.
I am fine with this. I am learning to accept me for who I am.
I am learning to accept what I see when looking in the mirror. I am learning to accept me as I am, which means that in the sought-after appeal of external and outside attention will only come up short of what I want.
I am aware that an unfillable void that can never be satisfied, and an unquenchable thirst that can never be quenched, and an ongoing hunger that can never be solved or satiated because now that I see clearly, or better yet, now that I have made the choice to open my eyes without shades or shadows, I have chosen to face the demons and address the so-called elephant in the room. Therefore, I am aware that nothing external can fill an internal void.
No, this is up to me.
If I am to improve, then I have to improve.
I have to live better to be better. I have to exercise both my strengths and weaknesses without hesitation, failure, and excuses.
I have to change my thinking and behavior, which is not an easy task—at least not in the beginning. To offer transparency, I can relate to the intimidations and fears of the early beginnings.
I know what it’s like to be at the bottom and to be intimidated by the climb ahead.
I am not at the bottom of the mountain anymore. But I am not at the top either. I am not sure if I am in the middle or if I have climbed higher than I assume.
I don’t know the answer to these things.
I do know that I have more to climb and, admittedly, there are days when my legs and back are sore. There are times when the weather is unkind, and the landscape is unhelpful.
Yes, there are times when doubt takes over.
There are times when the voice of my faith becomes distant and weak, which is not to say that my faith is absent. No, this is no more than an honest admission which regards my internal battle.
If I am to be better, then I have to be better.
This means that I have to overcome my body’s chemistry. To do this, I have to change my chemistry through physiological movements. I have to create motion to create change. I have to replace thought with action. I have to move, adjust, and make corrections when needed.
I want to feel better.
Better yet, I want to feel my best and to do this, I have to identify my weaknesses. I have to understand my triggers which cause me to give in or quit.
I have to understand my breaking point, and then I will break through it myself, and go beyond my own limitations.
I want to find my best, possible potential, and then I want to build upon this, like a platform or a base. I want to leap from here to which I can springboard or jump and be even better than my best potential would seem to be.
And no drug can fix this.
No line on a mirror or a tiny batch of powder, cooked in filthy spoons, nor can this be injected, or can this be repaired by anything in a glass pipe, by an edible or swallowed pill, nor can this fix be poured into a shot glass. No, none of the quick fixes, or any of the temporary highs, nor placebos or even the fast paced, adrenaline rushes that come like orgasms that vanish once the climax has emptied. No, this cannot come from a sexual triumph, not a gamble, not shopping, and not from eating, nor can this freedom come from the eager need of immediate gratification.
Nothing like this can remedy an emptiness from within.
No.
This is a call for action. Sure, I want to be free. I want to feel good. I want to feel the heights of the sky or the weightless abandon, like a fallen feather as it sweeps in the wind and refuses to hit the ground.
I want to be that way too.
I want to be happy. I want to look back and be at peace with the past.
I want to see the point in everything that happened before. As I climb, I want to note each time I reach a summit, or each time that I climb higher on this mountain called “Improvement.” I need to find the justice in my hike.
I have to understand my purpose.
I have to be sure to notice the scenic overlooks and to notice my success.
I have to look around sometimes, just to see the beauty.
I have to note my accomplishments, as in all of them, including the tiny ones, so that at the end of the day, I can compile my achievements and come to a constructive conclusion before I rest in bed.
I have to do this . . .
I want to be free from my own bondage and relived of the unchangeable past.
I cannot do anything about what’s been done.
I cannot do anything about tomorrow.
I can only do something about now.
This means when tomorrow comes, I can see the work that I have done. While I still have more to go, I have to remember that I am not where I was. I am not at the bottom anymore. I am a work in progress, of course. But the key word is progress. So, always make progress.
No matter what.
I remember the kindness of a man who listened to me. We spoke at a retreat, and he listened, perhaps he listened more than anyone else did before him.
He heard me.
He told me, “I don’t know what you did, because you said you can’t tell me. But I do know that you’re here, and that means you’re not doing it now.”
Aside from a small few, this was the most understanding person who took my confession. He heard my struggle. He listened to my stories about trauma and, above all, there was no judgment—there was only the warmth of understanding, the generosity of forgiveness, and there was the freedom of admitting to the exact nature of my wrong.
Even more, there was the kind of understanding from someone “who knew” and the promise he made to me, when he said, “I promise you will get better if you keep going like this.”
Dear Father,
It has been years since that retreat. I have grown some. I have improved some.
I have slid back a few times and I have messed up some. I have lived some and made mistakes.
I was thinking about the emotion you showed on your face after listening to me.
You understood. You knew that I was hurting
You heard me and you listened.
I used to think that I was a terrible person because I did (and have done) terrible things.
You agreed that yes, maybe I have done some terrible things.
“But that’s not you,” is what you told me.
“You think that’s you. But it’s not.”
You had mentioned that I would have no emotion, no guilt, remorse, or regret, and that I wouldn’t care or even think about these things if I were truly “that” person.
I know there is good in me.
You were one of the first people who explained that crazy people never think that they’re crazy. You also told me that stupid people don’t think they’re stupid.
No, they think they’re smart.
I know there is more for me to do.
I know that I am better than I give myself credit for.
I could use a retreat like yours, but I think The Man Upstairs called you Home a few years back . . .
And that’s okay. I know you are with our Creator.
Just look down on me with a smile, if you can.
It would mean a lot.
Sleep well, old friend.
I remember you well–
The Written Addiction 