The worse I did, i did to myself: A year later in recovery

Damn, last year about this time, I was just getting out of the mental hospital, I was homeless, jobless, broke, and it all seemed so damn hopeless. I was also very sick, had walking pneumonia and didn’t even know it because I wouldn’t stop the drinking and meth to get better. They tried to tell me in the hospital but I hadn’t decided if I wanted to live or not. They sedated me and gave me a flu shot. I told them I would sue them.

I thought I wanted to die.

I didn’t die.

I got sober and it wasn’t the end of the world. I started consistently taking my meds, and I didn’t lose myself. I thought being on antipsychotics and antidepressants would make me a zombie. I thought it would take away my creativity and edge. It didn’t.

I didn’t think I could turn it around. I got an apartment. I got a job. I grew up.

Yet, it hasn’t been easy. It was like the second I got some insanity, a lot of shit started happening to me. At first I thought it was karma. The first place I found to live ripped me off. It was such a nightmare I just forfeited deposit and down payment to get out of my lease. I lost like two thousand dollars. I had to move back in with my ex until I got a new place. I also started getting sick. I thought it was withdrawal symptoms. I kept going to hospital but they would just tell me it was the flu or bronchitis. It was pneumonia. I had to stay in the hospital for like a week. I lost my job. I found another apartment but without a job I completely wiped out my savings account. I got a new job and got sick again. Another two weeks in the hospital. It was like god was fuckign with me. I swear everything that could go wrong, went wrong. I fell off the bus and sprang my toe. I got gout in my right big toe. I found out that I was anemic which explained me passing out all the god damn time. My dentist ripped me off, so I can’t forget that.

Anyways, none of that I saw as setbacks but blessings. I didn’t belong in that apartment. I couldn’t afford it anyway. I need that job, I wasn’t happy. I also finally faced my health. Years of drug and alcohol abuse catches up to you. I wasn’t afraid of the failure anymore.

A year later, I knew I had changed when I met up with a friend to go hang at his house. I hadn’t seen him in a year. The last time I saw him, he was sick. He said it was just the flu but I knew it was something more. He didn’t mention it. I didn’t mention it but he was already skinny and had lost more weight. I was supposed to go visit him in the hospital when I realized I didn’t know his real name. I’d know that kid for five years and didn’t know his real name. The problem with my friend, I used to look at his life as romantic. I thought he was just as a lost soul as me. I went to him often not just to score drugs or the latest sex party, but also advice. It seemed that he always had men around him, the latest raw fuck session, getting high. It was my dream of nasty, no consequences. At least thought I pretend like there were no consequences because I figured I‘d be dead before thirty years old. Nothing really matter to me.

But it was all a lie. That’s what I knew for truth staring into that tin mirror at the state mental hospital. It was all a lie.

I went to my friend’s place and I knew I was going to get high with him. That was part of the problem with my past, all my friends did drugs. Anyways, I got to his place; I hadn’t done Miss Tina in like a year. I wanted to see if it had gotten better because the last time was really shitty. I hadn’t had really good Tina in years. I just started doing cocaine at the end of my breakdown. Anyways, I got to my friend’s place and we smoked. It wasn’t good Tina. I couldn’t feel a thing. What I really wanted was a cocktail but I hadn’t drank in like a month. At my friends house we talked about dental. He smoked so much his teeth were rotting really bad. They had been rotting for like a year, but I never said anything. My teeth were rotting from Tina smoking also, so when I got into that fight at the bar and those boys jumped me, kicked me, bruised my ribs and knocked out four of my front teeth. I couldn’t slow down enough to fix the problem. I stayed toothless for a year.

I couldn’t get high at my friend’s house. I also snorted some pain killers at my place and they weren’t giving me that much of a high. It was frustrated me terribly because what I really wanted was a drink. I decided I go buy a bottle but it wasn’t that simple. It was liquor or dinner for two days. A year ago that wouldn’t have been an issue. It would’ve been liquor. Hands down, no fucking thinking about it, it would’ve been liquor.

I was walking home with having decided that I rather eat than get drunk, when I passed a member I used to see in AA all the time. She smiled at me. I smiled back. That was it. I made it home safely.

I don’t know why her smiling at me in that moment, meant so much to me. I was half high but I wasn’t drunk. Drugs never did it for me anyway without the liquor.
I’d just miss it or want it more.

Lastly, when I got home. Tatum O’Neal was on Oprah. It was like god was trying to tell me something. She had gotten busted trying to score cocaine on the streets. That is so risky. She was ten months sober. She just got back her kids. I didn’t feel sorry for her. It’s part of the process of recovery. No one is perfect. If I saw her on the street, I’d just smile at her. “I know”

And what I know for sure after this year, AA is not for me. I go to meetings every once in awhile but I felt it hindered my recovery more than it helped. I would leave AA meetings feeling more alone and misunderstood. But I kept going until I started rebelling. Until I started drinking again and lying about it. I felt like a liar in AA because I would get a good period of time sober, then I would tell the group
And they applaud and give that token. The token would burn in my pocket and I hated counting down days like until I drank again. I felt like a failure most of the time. I felt as if I couldn’t be the perfect recovered addict. I decided to stop trying and that’s when I got free.

What I know for sure. True recovery is about self. It was about “me” I knew what I did alone when I was alone. I knew I could hide it like I did for years. I wanted to become a better alcohol, addict like some criminals do when they go to jail or prison. Not get caught the next time.

I don’t believe in rehabilitation. The system doesn’t care about the individual, just the statistics. I felt in AA I was losing my individuality and my so called “diseased” was being generalized. I knew if I wanted I could hide behind the cloak. It made people smiled when I said I was in AA or in rehab. AA taught me how to get the applause. I didn’t want to lie to myself. I know who I am when I’m alone. When I think nobody is watching.

A year ago, I looked in the mirror and I knew I had nothing. When I sought recovery, I really meant recovery. It wasn’t about drinking. I didn’t drink twenty two years of my life. It wasn’t about the drugs. It wasn’t about all the sex. It was about pain. It was about suffering and thinking that’s all I knew how to do. I grew up being abused so I thought that was life. The pain tricked my brain where I constantly lived in the past instead of reality: Real time.

It had to stop. I had to get angry. I had to get fed up. My genius plan of suffering wasn't working out anymore. I had to give myself freedom to change my mind. Even that came with consequences. Not because I won’t people to think I’m a nice person, normal, because I’m not. I’m just human. I just a human being the best I can given the circumstances.

I also know for sure, nobody gives a damn about the recovered addict. Most just waiting for the relapse like a fat person who has lost a lot of weight. “How long will it last”

When I told my landlord I was in AA and just completed an addict and alcoholic program, he still told me I had to move out of the apartment. I could no longer stay with my boyfriend. I didn’t get my relationship back. I had put him through so much he told me he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. It was weird because it felt like our entire relationship was based on me being a “fuck-up.” And the second I started acting right, he wasn’t attracted to me anymore. Aint that some shit.

Truth, I don’t count days anymore. Who gives a fuck if I’m sober a year or ten years, all they really care about is if I’m displaying erratic behavior. I get so tired of people (celebrities) say I’m going to rehab or AA like Tatum O’Neal when they really don’t believe. When they only fear the consequences of their addict behavior so they fake “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry these days is just good public relations. It’s like a husband buying his wife flowers or expensive jewelry after he cheats to deal with his guilt and delude himself he is still a good person. I say fuck the flowers and jewelry, just stop cheating or end the relationship. I say fuck Rehab and AA, stop drinking and driving. I did. After my DWI back in 1995, I decided to move to a city where I didn’t have to drive. And I say, fuck it. I’m not sorry.


The worse I did, I did to myself. I alienated a lot of people so that’s why I have very few friends. I burned a lot of bridges and opportunities because I refused to control my behavior. I was selfish. I tried to act like I didn’t give a damn, and that made me psychotic.

The worse I did, I did to myself. Fuck everybody else until I’ll have to say “I’m sorry again.”

Insecure Dyslexia

Recentlty i sorta of ended a "internet" friendship. I felt he crossed a very sensitive line with me. I know a lot of people think I don't have feelings or safe because they are miles away from me bitch slapping them. He said something about my grammar. It was as if he was calling me stupid or something. It wasn't put in a nice way.

I know i have grammatical problems. It's been my issue my entire life. It's like my mind could always figure a math problem, anything logical, but when it came to disseting a sentence, my mind went blank. Like there was a wall and I couldn't just understand it. It wasn't logical. Grammar isn't logical, but a descendent of the word glamorous. It was for rich people.

I didn't want to become a writer. I felt my grammar would get in my way. I would always have to have people read over my stuff to find the mistakes. But that's not all that easy. I used to think I would pay someone, but until i get my book deal, that's not all that easy.

I know what my issues are. One is past and present tense. I think in both. Edward Albee told me that all writers think in both tenses, but getting from our mind onto paper sometimes can be the problem. I know another issue of mine is fast typing and fast thinking. I often forget to put in words. It's funny once it's on paper, I can't see it anymore. It's like my mind is playing tricks on me. I know the word should be there and in my mind it's there, but a month later when i go back and re-read, it's not there. I feel so stupid.

Another one of my issues is words that look or sound alike. For a long time i was using the word "bowel" thinking "bile." When i look back at it, it' fucking funny, but at the time, catty queens used to love to point out all my mistakes.

I started my blog to help myself with my writing. I figured if i wrote more, then i could catch the mistakes before I started sending things out professionally. The thing about a blog, is so calvalier, I usually write them in a rush not caring for grammar or anything. But lately, I told myself i could do a lot better.

Writing for me is such an explosive process. It's like an orgasm. I just want to get it out and feel the rush. Afterwards, I don't want any cuddling, just clean up the mess until the next orgasm. But since I've fallen in love with a good man, myself, i think i know love, now writing for me is love. I want to caress it afterwards. I want the world to see it as beautiful as it flows through me.

I will keep looking at my three major insecurites with grammar, try to get better, try not to be so lazy.

Rice

Rice

I remember going without dinner many of nights not really knowing why. At the end of the month, all we survived on was rice. Butter rice. Pepper rice. If we were lucky, a slice of government cheese on top of that rice. I remember the look on my grandmother’s face every time the lights got turned off. I was poor but never really felt poor. I knew or accepted really early in my childhood that we didn’t have much, so part of me decided that I should never ask or want for more and that would guarantee my happiness. I kind of still live my life that way. I have an apartment, but for the last year I slept on the floor. I tell myself it’s because the floor is more comfortable but it’s because I’m still sleeping on the floor in my own life. It’s that deep.

A funny thing happened the other day. I was at my ex’s apartment, mostly because I had no food at my place, but he was also broke. He was spending all his money to go on some big Carnival cruise. It was funny; he said he was cooking dinner, just rice. I asked, just rice, nothing else. Then he replied he loved rice. I almost screamed. I felt tears building up in my eyes. It had been like 15 years since I had just rice. I was thirty one years old, a grown ass man with no children, and I was still eating just Rice. I felt poor. "I still ate the damn rice." I felt as if I wasn’t getting anywhere in my life. Yes, I was in an apartment I really couldn’t afford. Yes, I went through all my savings taking off work to write that damn novel but only ended up drinking and eating a lot of Popeyes chicken. Gained like twenty pounds.

My entire life I never really wanted much. As a kid, I never cared for toys because I thought they were wasteful and broke too easy. I felt all I needed was a good book and I could get that for free from the library.

But it’s nothing like eating Rice on a Sunday night with less than a dollar in your checking account that reality is humble. It was some bullshit. I needed to budget better. They say 90 percent born in poverty, return to poverty. I wonder if I really got out. I now understand poverty is not about money, it’s about perception of one’s life. I will never be materialistic. I am a very cheap bastard.

Yet, i know one thing has changed. It’s what I feel I deserve. When I was a kid, I had to accept things I couldn’t control. I never really complained because I was grateful. Really grateful just to eat. But as a man, it’s not acceptable for me. I used to think that was pride. My grandma used to say don’t ever get caught up in pride. She said she had known people who have starved or got them selves killed because of their damn Pride. I don’t have pride, but now if I’m eating rice, I want it with some chicken and a biscuit damnit. I want to get a comfortable enough bed so I can get off my floor in my overpriced apartment. RISE.

Lil Wayne kissed a boy and he liked it

Feeling fucking old because I'm five years older than MTV targeted audience. The Family guy on Fox was a rerun and on BET that every stereotype in the book "The Salon" was on. I just happened to flip on MTV that's because Vh1 was holding my Sunday shows hostage to bitch at me why I am not watching the MTV music awards. I was like what the fuck. I'm not watching because i was planning on seeing "New York" or whatever crap they have on which would've been so much better than the Jonas brothas.

That I kissed a girl wannabe was on, of course masterbating every heterosexual fantasy. At first i wasn't going to give in to but one night it somehow miracoulsy appeared on my Paradox, I guess because I was listening to Pink. Anyways, I did like the beat. It was fun. I also liked the lyrics, the girl seemed intelligent and feminist. But, why should i a black gay male give a fuck that she kissed a girl. I kissed a girl and I DIDN'T like it. She was drunk and her mouth seemed like she was trying to swallow my head. And then she stuck my hand in her pussy. I mean my entire hand!!!!! I got the hell out of there.

But the song "i kissed a girl" is so soft porn. I mean what girl hasn't kissed a girl. I'm sure all the president daughters kissed a girl. One of the nominees republican kids got pregnant. I think that would be a better more interesting song.

But i call it soft porn because it says nothing real. It she would've said i kissed a girl and ate her pussy to an upbeat, that would've shocked.

It's so lollipop. I hate the censored version of Lil Wayne's Lollipop especially when he says something about the girl pitting his nutt back in his mouth. I WAS HELLO. and to think he likes the handcops and ghetto BDSM scenes. I guess two guys singing about kissing each other is a little too gay for me but with a tight beat, i may be a little more intersted. for you old school girls, "police office, police offer, where is you Brother."