Shades of Gray

     

            This morning as I raised the blinds to take in the ominous activity occurring out over the bay, my thoughts and feelings began to signify the shades of gray that were evident from my perched view. It’s easy to love this scene as a clear majestic sunrise when the beautiful reflections of the new day enter the realm of your spirit like the God of your understanding. It tells you, without a doubt, that life is good and that somehow you have a chance to make this day the best one of your life. But when your humanism gives way to the uncertainties of fear and the element of surprise finds you engaged in its imagery, the result is a simultaneous effect equivalent to that of surrealism. 

            Today has been a day of thought for me. It is Sunday and for many people in the world it's a day of reflection and a chance to celebrate or connect in some way with their creator. I did not attend church today and I haven't done so since I started my new job which runs through the overnight-weekend hours. I work at a facility with a beautiful chapel right on the grounds but for some reason when I get off work at 8:30am on Sunday morning I just want to go home and get some rest. The service at the chapel begins at 9:00 and I really should make a more concerted effort to go as the result is always favorable for my general outlook on things. It’s only an hour of my time and just a short distance across the campus to get there. But once again this morning I had my mind set on sleep and before I knew it I was driving away. After finally waking from a broken sleep at around 3pm I found myself reflecting on the same things that were concerning me earlier and that can often spell trouble for me as the mess accumulates in my head. For that I have another blog called “my journal”. (No public access allowed) That's where I try to get the congestion of thoughts from my mind into words right in front of me so I can make some sense of it all. If nothing else it gives me a chance to pause before I get to the "insert foot in mouth" stage. J

           I am finding out that along with progress comes hard decisions about things that are not always comfortable to deal with. I try to live in the day as best I can. This is something that has been emphasized to me by my good friends in the fellowship of Alcoholics Anonymous. It's been one of the real gifts to me in sobriety and I’m finally starting to get the hang of it. I spent way too many years projecting my life into the future rather than taking my ambitions a day at a time and seeking steady progress. I’ve had to completely shift my way of thinking and it requires a lot of practice and most of all patience and tolerance. I can get very frustrated about my lack of progress in something or scow at the inability of someone to understand me. If I’m not careful I can fall back into those old ways of thinking and the next thing I know I’m making impulsive decisions because I don't like the feeling. I need to realize that sometimes the elements just don’t allow me to see results in my estimated time frame. More often than not I need to accept the people in my life for who they are and realize that the world doesn’t revolve around me. I really used to think it did…

           My old ways of thinking had to be smashed to make way for newer and healthier thoughts that allow me to look at my part in everything. Often that requires an awareness of my delicate ego that still gets challenged by the most trivial bullshit. There is a process in the 12 steps by which we identify our shortcomings and character defects. These are nasty liabilities that kept me running from the truth time after time. I have identified some of the more glaring of these liabilities and ultimately they fall under a broader sense of fear. By asking God to take these fears from me and by turning my will over to His care I can live reasonably happy and accomplish most anything I set out to do. But life still has a way of unleashing the element of surprise on us when we least expect it. A stormy Sunday can really take you hostage until you recognize your captivity and surrender once again.

          These days, for the most part, I’ve been able to surrender those daily thoughts that can wreak havoc in my mind. But every now and then they come dancing in like storm clouds disguised as the affirmation of progress and kick my ass right to my knees for a humbling reality check. As time goes on and I strive for a better way of thinking and living, those nasty little defects seem to lurk about like the shades of a gray morning. Like distant moving clouds intermixed with swirling rippled waters, the line of definition comes and goes with the wind. My thoughts are challenged like the flocks of wind blown birds desperately seeking their destination; diving and moving to protect their flight to resolution. In a moment only captured through an absolute state of awareness, my view becomes black and white with only a slight tinge of green to remind me of my newness and vulnerability. As I have come to seek and accept healing in my life these moments are few and far between. But just as the powerful surge of a storm can disrupt the beauty of a calming scene, so can the self-centered illness of an alcoholic disrupt the serenity of his own healing and calming state of mind.

Sunrise Seven Eighteen

             It was a morning that I won't soon ever forget. Life gathered all around me and showed me it was available but I needed to grab hold and not let go. The greatness of good was everywhere but yet I could only look at it and hope that by taking one healthy step forward followed by another that maybe someday it would weave its way into my shredded fabric.

           July 17, 2008  ~   I had been on a four or five day drinking binge, which was common place at this point in my life, and the only thing I knew was that I was suppose to get on a plane to leave Phoenix, Arizona and arrive in Philadelphia later that evening. The arrangements were made the day before by my family back east who were hoping and praying that somehow I would get on that plane, It wasn't going to be easy as I could barely pack a pair of underwear without puking. If it hadn't been for a couple of gentleman that I had met at an AA meeting I would have never made it. Fortunately God introduced me to Bill H. and Peter B. who arrived at my apartment in Scottsdale that day to make sure that I got to the airport and on that plane. I packed only what I needed to move without too much restriction through the airport. I left the rest of my life packed in boxes and considered I would never see most of it again. I didn't own very much. I was broke and had nothing of real value. My life had been dictated by drugs and alcohol for a long time and going to Arizona eight months prior was another attempt at change without doing what really needed to be done which was to completely stop using and drinking. But here I was on this day heading back to my hometown before I would be taken to a treatment center in Havre de Grace, MD. The very town that I live in today.

             As Bill and Peter got me to the airport I thanked them and told them I would be fine from here. I could barely get the words out of my mouth and as I reached for my bag on the ground I kept missing the handle to pick it up. They both looked at me with amusing grins and said, Oh no Rob... Who do you think you're talking to here? They knew that the only thing I had on my mind was the airport bar. They walked me to the gate area and made me promise them that I would get on that plane and not go to the bar. They assured me that with a very concerned family waiting to pick me up in Philly that it was most important to get on that plane and that the rest of my life was hinging on completing the mission of this moment in time. As I began to shake in the early stages of withdraw I nodded to them and hoped that I actually believed myself. I shook their hands and bid them farewell. They were a God sent and I would never see Bill again as he passed away a couple of years later. I did however have the chance to thank him through a couple of emails during my first year of sobriety. Peter and I have been in touch on facebook and we have shared in the memory of our friend Bill. As I sit here today with over two and a half years sober I can only believe that Bill is looking down with a smile knowing that he helped to save the life of an alcoholic who was knocking on death's doorstep.

           I boarded the plane and got a widow seat. The plane was full and next to me sat a young college student who hadn't bathed in days. The smell was rancid and I was sure that before the end of the trip he would have a lap full of whatever liquor my liver was rejecting at this point. After several trips to the hospital during the past month the doctors informed me that I was showing some early indications of cirrhosis. That  actually turned my thoughts from not giving a shit about my unmanageable life anymore to being a little more concerned about dying. But for the moment I was thinking of how I was going to get through a five hour flight and deal with this smell. I curled up with my head pressed to the window and pulled my shirt up around my nose. The smell of whiskey coming through my pores was much nicer than the BO next to me. I can only imagine that the people around us were in conflict about the drifting aromas. They probably didn't know who to hate more, the guy by the window detoxing or the young slob who smelled like he skipped a shower after a track meet. Then again, maybe they just blamed it all on the guy in the aisle seat who was passed out from sitting next to both of us.

           I watched as my plane left the runway and the Arizona desert went further into the distance. I watched as the cactus became specs on a canvas of sand that began to sprout ridges and then mountains. Through the haze of drifting clouds the patterns of man made counties and cities throughout the desert seem to be watching ever so sadly as my eyes filled up and the reality of my departure was in place. I thought for a moment how only eight months ago I watched this whole image in reverse. I thought about how excited and optimistic I was about living out here in the west and working in a music store doing something I loved. But I couldn't stop drinking and as this experience would fade as another distant memory in my life I had to somehow think about totally surrendering to something because I couldn't go on like this. I watched for as long as I could see the hot orange ball of flame that guarded the desert like the devil himself that guarded my alcoholic affliction. The next time I would see the sun it would rise over the Chesapeake Bay on Seven Eighteen. It would have a new light to it and a new beauty. The miraculous glow was no longer a fire reminiscent of the burn in my belly but rather a reassuring light emphasized by the magnificence of the peaceful waters along the Chesapeake. I was greeted by a person who smiled at me and said, "welcome... you never have to feel like this ever again". My life has never been the same since and I thank God everyday for keeping me alive and for getting me on that plane.