Sleepless . . .
Ever sit up late
and listen to the sound of rain
falling against your roof?
I tell you there’s something about this sound.
There’s something about the sound of angry raindrops,
teeming, crashing down
like a thousands little foot-soldiers
landing after leaping from the sky
and then running down the roof –

It is a few moments before sunrise –
I am looking through a window
and tracking the vague moments before the sunlight.
It is dark and the sky is about to bloom,
which is good

The moments of autumn are underway and soon,
the world around me will cool
and the leaves will change.
I am somewhere in the middle of nowhere,
or at least it seems.
Better yet, I am somewhere familiar
yet the world is allowed to be strange to me.

I am in no position to judge anyone.
I am human, of course, just like the rest of us are.
I have pieces of me that are dark
and at the same time, I have other pieces of me
that have been embraced by the light. 

I have secrets and lies and sins and mistakes;
therefore, I have no right to either accuse
or condemn nor do I have the correct position
to act as either judge or jury. 

I do my best to remember that . . .

I am driving by myself, alone,
heading south on the parkway and driving before the sunrise
heading down the same trip which has become automatic
which is familiar, yet strange in a sense
because as I head towards my usual destination
I have come to the realization that I have outgrown the clothes of my past
and that my old uniforms no longer fit me.

I am me –
A child, a person, a grown up
and whether man or woman
or in whichever form I choose to be or call myself
– I am me.
I am and this, undoubtedly,
which means I will always be me,
even if I try to portray
or pretend to be anyone else –
I am and will always be me

They say this is “recovery month.”
So, I’ll understand if you turn away at this point. I’ll even understand if you don’t want to read anymore or if you’d skip a few of my journals; but then again, the reason why I come here is because this is the place where I can be heard – even if only by you, at least I know that someone is listening. If anyone is listening, I’d rather it be you.
They said yesterday was Overdose Awareness Day. And I’m aware. I’ve been aware for a very long time because to me, this is not something new. In all honesty, I shake my head when people act like addiction is new. This isn’t new. None of this is.

What I have for you today is a few pieces of my soul; hence the term Prose From the Soul; yet, this is only a piece of me. I am more than this. I am more than a person in recovery. I have countless other successes that go beyond the typical “one day at a time” approach. But still, I do remember where I came from and, yes, I remember what my purpose is and the direction I am choosing to take.

So, here are some pieces of my recovery. But before I go forward, I’d like to share something that I’ve never said to anyone, which is thanks. But more than a simple thanks, I am thanking you for accepting me for being me
exactly as I am –

It rained last night
and this morning was gray with a slight mist.
I awoke later than usual –
the sun was trying to peek through the clouds
like a round spot in the sky
with a shade of orange in the silvery shadows
The grass is wet and the smell from the earth
is like that of a late summer rain and me
I am still me
with a mind full of ideas.

And the way the wind blows, it changes, right?
The winds change and so does the weather,
so does the time,
and so do the fashions, the music,
the shows we watch and the foods we eat.

Life is a constant page turner.
I know this now. 
Sometimes we read the writing on the wall
and other times
we get lazy or comfortable
and we skip a few pages thinking,
“I’ll just figure it out as I go along.”

I don’t know how this happened.
Age, I mean.
Or better yet, this thing called maturity
where’d this come from?

I’m not sure when or where this began.
At least, not really.
I suppose one day, I started speaking in complete sentences
and just like that, I started to grow.

They say you can’t walk around worrying about
what other people think
or how other people see you.
They say this and, of course, we still do it
Right?
I mean, let’s be honest, people-pleasing is a real thing.
Isn’t it?