I’ve seen you before. And I’m not saying “I’ve been you before.” I’m just saying that I’ve seen you. That’s all. Always on the run. Always looking for the score.
Your eyes tell a thousand stories of half-closed reveries that dangle you like an empty cobweb. Meanwhile, your eyes are telling me a different story. I can see that you want to rip through your skin. You’re sick, achy, sniffling and there’s only one cure to make this better. 

It’s funny though . . .
It all starts out as some crazy fix. It’s a fascination for the feeling of something that brings us out of this world. But there’s more to it than just the high. There’s the rituals. There’s the routine, which is more like a romance of a step-by-step habit and a sensational idea that takes place.
And I get it.

Of course, when it comes to connecting your passion to making your dreams, the bottom line is if it were easy, everyone would do it.
I imagine myself in my own little place down by a ravine in the woods. I came to this idea after reading one of Fulghum’s novels, which is described similarly but ah, I’m sure my picture is different.

I picture myself in a little log cabin. There’s a pot belly stove to keep me warm when the winter blows too cold. There’s electricity. There’s light and the ability to hear music. There’s a computer and a desk and some comfy surroundings that I have designed myself. There are bookshelves on the wall and some updated amenities, one couch and maybe a loveseat, a recliner and maybe an old jukebox and a lava lamp (the lamp is something I’ll save for another story) but mostly; there’s nothing else here but me and my thoughts, my plans and the pictures of come up with in my mind.

When I became willing to subject myself to the process, I had to find the appropriate level of care so that I could achieve my goals. Now, by definition, the word therapy means to find a curative process. This can happen in different ways. Therapy can be a task or an exercise regiment. This can be a program of relief or emotional support. Or, this can be a hobby that relieves tension and stress. 

I used to wonder about what the world looked like before I was born. Then again, it wasn’t until I was older that I came to a special realization. I came to notice that there was a time when my parents were young too. There was a time when they didn’t know who I was or what I would look like. Perhaps there was a time when they didn’t know that I would exist and that I would be part of their world. Or, maybe I was unexpected. Maybe I was wanted but at the same time, there was an idea that maybe their life would be easier if I was never born. I say this with the full understanding that at some point in life, parents were human too. I say this with the understanding that regret is felt by everyone, including parents.

I was thinking of a moment that seemed to have no other options. I was in a room “as they say” with no doors to the outside. Of course, I say this figuratively. I was at a place with no attractive resources. I came to a place where there was no exit, or at least, there wasn’t an exit that was attractive to me. I suppose that when there is no room left to fall, then there’s no room left to worry. This was it. This is the bottom. There was nothing left to add or subtract and the numbers dwindled down to one.
Me.

To be honest, the idea of change was unthinkable to me. I say this before going forward but I say this with a purpose. I say this because I had lived a certain way for such a long time and to me, living any other way seemed impossible. I lacked the energy to change. I lacked the belief that I could change; therefore, I lacked the drive and the ambition to make a change.
I say this because this is my truth. I explain this as my truth; however, at the same time, none of this was true at all.
I only believed it was.

There was a time when I would take a trip up to the roof of the building at work. I was high up and above the streets down on Lexington Avenue. I would face the east and look up and down the eastside of Manhattan, New York City. I would allow myself to absorb the quiet of the wind. I would allow this to drown out the sounds of the street below me. So peaceful.
There was no more noise from the hustle of fast-moving cabs, the traffic or the honking horns that beep at midday pedestrians who jaywalk or run through the crosswalks in a hurry.

There was someone who told me, “Kid, the only way ‘To it’ is through it.” What this person really meant is in the case of finding our way or having the life we want to live, there is no easier or softer way. By the way, the idea of finding an easier, softer way is not mine. These are not my words or an original thought. No, this comes from chapter 5 in a book that we use in the 12-Step world. The chapter is called “How it Works” and in short, the meaning of this chapter is the only way “To it” is through it.

Think about this for a second . . .