Blogophilia 17.7 Please Say It Isn't So

[Please] Say It Isn't So

Say it isn't so, that

I can no longer see the lust in your eyes.

My heart yearns for the time

when my merest touch was enough

to set your body alight; 

the merest whisper from my lips enough

to fill your soul with greed for more.

Say it isn't so, that

I can no longer see the love in your face

as you witness my transformation;

the swallowing of my pride

to become the man you wanted,

free from the gluttony of the needle,

free from the wrath of my past.

Say it isn't so, that

our paths cannot continue,

you must go your way, and 

I must go mine.  I envy

the person you have chosen in my place

even as I wish you happiness.

Bitterness threatens to engulf me.

Say it isn't so, that

you never loved me in the first place;

that your choosing me was a result

of spiritual sloth that made it OK

to settle, until better came along.

Those words, meant to sting,

did their job.

Copyright Steven Clark 2014 

"And I, the last, go forth companionless,

And the days darken round me....."

~~Tennyson's Morte d'Arthur

Written for:

Blogophilia 17.7

Topic:  Please Say It Isn't So

bonus points:

(hard, 2 pts:  use a line from Tennyson's Morte d'Arthur)

(easy, 1 pt:  mention one of the 7 deadly sins)

Bonus picture guesses:

windswept, runaway, gone with the wind, pretty as a picture, waiting, leaving, loss, traveling, moving on

Topic submission guess:  Tyler
Picture submission guess:  Violeta

Blogophilia 15.7 Fire And Ice

Fire - Sassysue King.  Flaming red hair, spicy personality, short but never, ever underestimated.  A sure spitfire.

Ice - me.  Dead inside.  Seeking numbness from emotion.  Given up on life, always looking at the negative.

I didn't want to do a write for Blogophilia this week.  Even after I promised Sue and Marvin that I would try harder.  The news of Sue's death has devastated me.  But I feel I owe it to Sue, to honor her, by putting this out this week.

I met Sue as most of you did, through Blogophilia back in the Myspace days.  From the start she was always encouraging me to write, even if not for an audience, but to write for myself.

Most of you Blogophiliacs know of my struggles over the years with drug addiction and my journey to live a sober life.  For those of you that are new - well, there you go.

Some of you may not know that at the time we met, Sue did volunteer work with a needle exchange where she lived in London, Ontario.  She worked with addicts and the police force, and I guess because she read my writings of my struggles with drug abuse, it caught her eye and we became fast friends.  We communicated by email and instant message, never met in person or spoke over the phone, but that didn't diminish the depth of our late night conversations or our friendship.

She told me of her nephew who also struggled with drug addiction and coming to terms with his own dark demons.  She told me his story and I told her mine, and she would give me advice about, oh, everything.  Most recently I was asking her advice about therapy.  And always, always she kept at me to write out my feelings, whether by blog or by personal journal.

She was always there to hold me up through the dark times, with an encouraging word or a funny tidbit to make me laugh.  Lots of times over the years I've been unbalanced - no equanimity there - but even when I went silent for months at a time in the depths of my addiction, every week she would message me encouraging me to do that week's Blogophilia prompt.  Or to just write, "just fucking write it out for god's sake!  No matter the subject, Just Write."  And if I did write, she would always message me with an ,"oooooh, you wrote, good for you!!!!! :)   "   Often, she would be the only one to comment on my blog.  She was recently encouraging me to branch out with my writing, to try some of her flash writing groups.

The last time we communicated was Thursday, May 29.  I knew she'd been fighting a cold/flu for weeks but she said she was hopeful to find relief at her accupuncturist's, who at the next appointment was also going to give her some natural remedies to try.

I'm still stunned that it happend so quickly.

I hope that she knows how much she meant to me.  I didn't tell her nearly enough.

So Sue, in answer to your unspoken question, yes, "I did Blogo" this week.  For you.



Blogophilia Topic 15.7:  Fire and Ice
(Hard, 2 pts:  incorporate the opposite meaning of "equaniminty")
(Easy, 1 pt:  include dark demons)

Topic guess - Sandy Glenn

bonus pic phrase guesses:
red hot
too hot to handle
on fire

Superman

I came across a great analogy recently, from a support site for male survivors of childhood sexual abuse:

"It occurred to me that Superman is a great allegory for what we are, who we are forced to become. We are forced to become Supermen, or die.

Our home planets were destroyed by disaster (our childhoods were ripped apart from us).

We had no identity (we are aliens), and we're forced to hide (Clark Kent) behind a self imposed veneer of ridicule and shame and embarrassment. We stumbled around mankind attempting to awkwardly fit in by mimicking others. Interestingly, we're seekers of the truth (news reporters @ the Daily Planet).

But we discover, sooner or later, that we have super powers. We have incredible insight. Incredible empathy. Incredible understanding of the depths of the human soul. We'll see things about humanity that most people will never see (X-ray vision).

Unfortunately, we must battle all these evil creatures, and endure through them. We must fight, we must be Supermen. It is our destiny.

I proudly claim this as my own heritage. I AM SUPERMAN!

I Survived Hell. My little one made choices the resulted in my SURVIVING. I'm alive, and now I'm waking up to who I really am. The incredible strength, the incredible passion, the incredible insight.

I spent most of my life thinking I wasn't human. I was sub-human. Now I'm starting to see it -- because of my abuse, I am destined to become a Superhero.

I forged through the depths of hell alone, and came out ALIVE! I'm HERE! I somehow navigated through the psychological labyrinth of mayhem and confusion and can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I CAN CHANGE! I HAVE POWER!

I AM SUPERMAN! (YOU ARE TOO!)"


I've been working through my "issues" for several years now.  Well, sort of.  Mostly I've been giving myself permission to acknowledge to myself, and a few others, what happened to me......and then either trying to forget it via drugs/alcohol, or allowing myself to wallow in negative emotions over it all.  Or both.  

I've struggled greatly with seeing myself as a survivor, rather than as a victim.  Survivors move forward, not backward.  Survivors don't try to kill themselves rather than face the truth.  

My perspective has been changing lately though.  Maybe I had to go through all of that to get here now.  I did what I had to, to get to this moment.....even though I almost killed myself in the process.  I survived the only way I knew how.

Knowing that I have the power to choose how I move forward from here on out is humbling.....and scary.  I've done a lot of bad things in the course of my "survival".  I've hurt people, irreparably.  I've stolen from people I loved.  I've committed crimes.  I've debased myself and let others treat me like shit they've stepped on.  I've treated others like they were shit I stepped on.  I blamed all of my problems on everyone else....and to some extent, I had every right to blame my parents for screwing me up so badly.  But for so many of the choices I made, I only have myself to blame.  So, I don't really trust my judgement too well.

When I think about that now, I get very angry at myself for allowing it all to have so much power over me, for so long.  I know there's no point in staying mad at myself because (see above) I was doing what I had to survive, the only way I knew how.  Does that justify what I did?  Yes and no?

Not really sure where I'm going with this, if only to say that I'm still trying to figure all of this out.  One step at a time, I'm getting to know myself, and the man I'm trying to become.  Superman?  Not really, but I'll settle for just a better man.  

 

Peek-A-Boo

*interviewer cautiously taps mic, warily looking at Steven for any signs of snapping*

"Uh yes, hello there listeners, we are here once again with Mr. Clark, who, the last time we checked in, wasn't too thrilled at us doing so."  *clears throat*  "And so, tell us how you've been doing Mr. Clark.  What have you been up to these last few weeks?"

"Well Bob, I've been contemplating the meaning of life and my existential role in it.  Who am I?  What does all this mean?  Where do I go from here?  I've also been eating a lot of Cheeze-Its.  And yogurt."

"Cheeze-Its and yogurt.....yes, I see."

"Not at the same time, you understand.  Separately.  When the feeling hits."

*looks uncomfortable*  "Go on.  Does this help you think about your purpose in life?"

"No.  I just like them."

"Ah."

"I feel as if there must be something more out there for me, I just don't know what it is yet."

"Granola bars are nice."

*stares at Bob*  "No, something more meaningful in life."

"Oh yes of course.  What about going to school?"

"I don't even have time these days to blog, when would I do homework?"

"Yes, that would be a problem.  How about traveling?"

"No money.  I just want to find something I can really sink my teeth into."

"Volunteering?"

"Hamburger."

*crickets chirp*

"Mr. Clark, do you want to do something with your life, or do you just want to eat?  I can't keep up with you."

"Can't I do both?"

"I've got it.....go to cooking school!"

*crickets chirp again*

"You are out of your bloody mind.  I'm done here."   *walks off*

"And there you have it folks, an update with Mr. Clark.  Have a fantastic weekend."

Blogophilia 7.7 Slightly Past Tipsy

He sat at the corner cafe, at a table by the curb, slowly sipping a cup of steaming hot tea.  People chattered like birds all around him, sharing details of their lives and not caring who overheard.  In five minutes time, he knew that Pam was seeing Gary and that Jeff had broken his hand from punching a snack machine.  Oh and did you know that if you drink green tea it helps your liver detoxify?  He inwardly chuckled at that remark; his liver was probably beyond any help that green tea could give it; he would stick with his black tea, thank you very much.

The voices receeded into the background as he watched the people walking along the street, busy with their own problems and thoughts.  Did they feel as asleep as he did?  Did they go about their day looking at the world around them in wonder, confused about how they had gotten there?  He had been slightly past tipsy for the past 20 years it seemed, and now that he had been persuaded to put down the bottle....and everything else....he felt like a tourist in a foreign country.  Everything was familiar, yet different.  Time had passed him by, and he no longer recognized his life.  Or himself.

“A man who procrastinates in his choosing will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.”  That was for sure.  He had hidden from the harsh realities of life and in the meantime, life had gone on....uncaring that he was stuck in time.  He couldn't reconcile the fact that getting sober wasn't going to let him live the last 20 years over again; he was going to have to move forward from this point in time.  Or stay put, and forever feel lost.  It was his choice.

He brooded as he stared at his tea; the clouds above were reflected on the surface.  What a fitting metaphor, he thought.....light fluffy clouds dancing on top of the depths of darkness.  Put a happy, sane face on for the world, while inside, the darkness threatened to consume him.  When he looked at himself in the mirror lately, he wondered who it was that stared back....he surely didn't recognize this middle aged person.  "But I'm going to have to get to know him," he whispered to himself.  "It's the only way."

He downed the rest of the tea and stood up.  He felt as if stepping out onto that sidewalk was a symbolic gesture of moving forward with this new, strange life.  Then he laughed at himself....he took life way too seriously.  Just go with it, he thought.  Remember, “Yesterday's weirdness is tomorrow's reason why.” 

Smiling, he stepped forward.

Copyright Steven Clark 2014


Posted for Blogophilia 7.7 topic:  slightly past tipsy
bonus point (2 pts, hard):  quote Hunter Thompson
bonus point (1 pt, easy): incorporate a snack machine

Bonus picture guesses:

get down, play that funky music white boy, crazy, twist and shout

topic guess:  Colleen Breuning
photo guess:  Sassysue King

Haze

Forcing myself out of the haze that has settled over my mind is like forcing myself out of bed from a sound sleep after the alarm goes off.  I don't want to be awake.  I don't want to feel.  I don't want to move.  I just want to burrow back down into the comfort of the blankets and drift back to sleep.

Which is basically what I did every time I did drugs.....hide from the world in my cocoon of warmth and oblivion.

I haven't used; "haze" is not a metaphor for anything here except the haze of depression.  It weighs on me and makes me immobile in thought and action....breaking through the cloud seems too much effort to be worth it.  I read something today that says depression can actually lower your IQ.  That makes total sense, it's hard to gather my thoughts to even string a sentence together.  But everyone keeps telling me to get my thoughts out and stop isolating, so here I am.

I'm tired of trying to stay positive and hopeful all the time, and then feeling like a failure when I can't be.  So I tell myself to just "sit with the negativity" until it passes.....only it doesn't pass.  Then trying to control myself to not act impulsively on my urges wears me out.  I'm tired of the litany of thoughts that go round and round in a rut.  I'm tired of the platitudes well meaning friends tell me.  I'm tired of the god talk at meetings.  I don't know how much longer my sponsor is going to be willing to put up with me. I'm tired of people telling me "it only works if you work it" like I'm not trying hard enough.  This can't be the only way.

It's so easy to let myself fall into complacency and let my guard down, let old thoughts creep back in, old behaviors manifest.  Which is what has been happening the past several days.  It's exhausting keeping that guard up, and frankly I'm just fucking tired of doing it.  But that's me giving in.  I try to distract myself, but nothing I used to enjoy is enjoyable anymore.  I don't want to read, I don't want to write, I don't even want to watch TV.  The weather has been shitty so I can't get outside to walk, my car is unreliable so I can't go on the long drives I used to take.  I feel like I"m drowning in a pit of negativity and my first instinct is to pull away and remove myself from everyone and everything because who wants to be around that?  And if I'm honest, I don't really want to be around others telling me to "do this, try that."  I just fucking want to be left alone.  But, that's the disease and the depression talking.  I'm fully aware of this even as I stew.  And it just makes me even more down and determined to self destruct.  How fucking mature.  I just want it all to end.

20 Years

20 years ago tonight was a turning point in my life.  20 years ago tonight, I was in a car accident and my girlfriend, Larissa, died.

It was a turning point for me because I could have gone another way.....I could have dealt with the trauma and grief in a healthy way and went on to lead a productive life as an adult.

I didn't do that.  I chose the easy way out by seeking solace in numbing drugs.  It started in the hospital with the morphine I was on, and contiued with painkillers after I was released and still recovering from my injuries.  I had learned from an early age how to escape from my [other] pain using chemicals, and I relied on that knowledge then to help me cope.  I eventually made my acquaintence with heroin, and the rest, as they say, is history.

20 years later, I've learned to let go of that guilt a little.  I know now that her fate was not in my hands that night, according to the police report.  It was the other driver's fault.  But because I was drunk, I still thought it was my fault.  If I'd taken another road, she'd still be alive.  If I'd let her drive, she'd still be alive.  If I wasn't drunk, she'd still be alive.  If only, if only, if only, to infinity.  It's a lesson of acceptance that has taken me 20 years to learn.

I often look at the world as it is today and wonder what she would think of it if she were here.  I think about how my life, our life, would be, if she were still alive.  Would I have still gone down the path I did?  Was that my fate no matter what?  Would she be happily married to someone else with kids all around her?

I can't change the past, and like I said in my last post, it's up to me to choose how I live.....in the light, or the darkness.  I've lived most of the last 20 years in darkness.  It's time I try the light.  If not for me, then for my Lissa.

I always think of her when I hear this song.  So, I think of it as our song.