Lean on Me

[An oldie, but a goodie.  Ester found this post from July!]

Over the course of this blog, I have wrote very openly about my drug abuse,  I do this in hopes that my story may help someone who is currently living the same struggle I lived.  However, there are other reasons as well.

A recovering addict needs love and support...much support.  You can’t make it alone.  Perhaps you’re having a struggle in your own life.  I’m talking to you right now.  First you have to recognize the problem.  Drugs are the most common, but alcohol, gambling, even sex are things that grab hold and are hard to be free from.  Eating disorders, smoking… the list goes on and on.

I realize in my own life I have made big moves toward staying sober.  First, I know I had a problem.  Next, I went to my family, the people who love me, and asked for their support.

This project has become a huge part in my decision to remain free from drugs.  Accountability.  I look back over my life and realize that prison, in many ways, saved my life.  Then, the J.J. project – not the ‘project’ as much as you.  YEAH, you!  Just as you are sitting there reading, you are quite honestly watching me.  What’s this dude gonna say or do next? – this has become a major part in my choice to live a sober life.

Even if I manage to get clean on my own, if nobody else knows, then I’m really only letting myself down if I go back to my old life.

…And honestly, as an addict, you let yourself down all the time.  …Because deep in your heart, you want to be free, but it hurts and you give in.  That’s why if you really want to be free… tell someone. 

There are drugs here.  We get random drug tests back here because they know there are drugs here.  I am still free.  Since I was 15 years old I have smoked cigarettes.  About two years ago, I decided to quit.  It lasted for almost 3 months and I started back.  I beat myself up, too.  Part of me said "See, you’re not as strong as you thought."  …And that right there pissed me off.

I realized I needed a reason.  I needed to give my heart a good reason to help myself.  Fourteen years ago this August, my daughter was born.  I found the reason I needed in my little girl.  On her birthday this year, I was one year smoke-free.  You may not think that’s such a big deal.  For me it is huge.  You see, I have an addictive personality.  I needed this.  I needed to know I was stronger than my addiction.

I won’t lie, I didn’t even tell my daughter I quit until the 8^th month.  I was scared to fail again.  When I told her, I wished I had done it earlier.  Because I never want to let her down.  I already have let her down enough.  Now that I told her, it’s over.  …Back to accountability.

For this very reason, I write stuff like this.  Maybe it will encourage you if you’re having a hard time right now.  But even more than that, you have become my reason to stay clean.

If you have a problem, tell somebody.  Tell your mom, tell your dad, tell your spouse or your best friend.  Find a church and tell a pastor.  Tell someone who cares.  I care.  This project cares.  Don’t feel like you stand alone.  Find help, then take that hand and hold on for dear life.

My sister and I developed this thing in order to help people.  It helps me all the time.  I’ve said it before, but it’s on my heart again.  Maybe you need a reason.  Perhaps you are searching and you need an answer.  Do you need some help?

Why did I sit down and write this today?  Why was I awake at 2 a.m. to write ReachingOut?  …Because of things I can’t see.

Ester and I had a conversation months ago.  She said she likes to follow her heart.  I love you sissy.  You follow your heart and before long, you will know all too well about heartbreak.  I’m a convict doing hard time.  That’s why I follow my gut.  It’s a built in safety device – a device that quite likely has saved my life.

But since I’m all about keeping it real, I can’t lie either.  Sure, I try and sound like the tough guy, but you read The Answer is Love and you’ll know my heart is in this project.  I’ve never met you, but I care about your life.  I don’t care if you’re from my own backyard or from the outback.  Black or white – I don’t see lines of any kind.  Maybe you just need to know someone cares.  I let my little girl be the reason for me.  You need to find that reason for yourself. 

Maybe you’ve burned your family one too many times and stumbled upon this blog.  I questioned whether or not to write this.  Maybe you’re wondering why you’re here, listening to me today.  I don’t know if it was my heart or my gut.  Maybe both inspired this.  These days, I just go with it.  Either way… I still have a good hand that reaches out.  So does my sister.  You are not alone.

If you are free, be thankful.  If you want to be free, you can be.  I get a lot done from bunk 113.  And, I have time for you.  We’re cool like that.  Is there something you want to read about?  Is there a topic you would like me to write about?  Just leave a comment here.  I will hear about it.  I will sit on bunk 113 and write a new post.....a new post that might help you, a friend of yours, or a family member that you love.  Just say the word. 

As always, much love from The Hooligan  

Mail, Drunk-Texting, and Damage-Control

“Writing letters seems so old-fashioned.  Then again, they are much the same as, say, texting or sending e-mail.  Sure there are differences.  A letter is not instantly delivered.  However, one aspect in the same… once it’s sent, it’s sent.

From time to time, I send letters and then go OH SHIT!

There is a mailbox here where all mail is dropped.  I have more than once dropped a letter in that box then went OH SHIT.  I still have to walk by that box for the rest of the day realizing that something I said wrong or too harshly is only inches from my grasp.  Perhaps dumpster-divers feel the same at times.  …Hanging upside down from the lip of a canister with the crown jewel only inches from their finger-tips.  That must suck!  I know it does for me.  Um… yeah, not the dumpster-diver part, but the letter part.

If you send a text or e-mail to someone and piss them off, they have the option of calling you directly.  Then they can tell you to fuck off, threaten to put their foot up your ass… well, you get my point.

*

With a letter, you just have to keep thinking, ‘Oh shit, what have I done?’

This continues for days until you find out the amount of damage done.  Then what?  You try to kiss ass – pick up pieces, make amends – any way possible?  I call it ‘damage-control.’  Yes, I fuck it up often enough that I have actually coined a phrase to describe my ass-kissing, back-pedaling, whatever you want to call it.

A prime example of this would be when I called out a family member of mine here on the blog.  For her sake (and mine), I won’t mention any names.  However, that took a lot of ass-kissing.  If I had a dollar for every time I’ve told her sorry since, my canteen money would be as long as Donkey Kong.

My biggest mistakes are with women.  Then again, I have a strict policy of no ass-kissing guys.  Yes, the direction of this is even beginning to confuse me….

So I send out some random, possibly hurtful thoughts that my broken filter was not able to decipher.  Being so outgoing and up front is many times a curse rather than a blessing.  Now, on top of trying to avoid harmful situations, stay under the radar of the prison guards, and do my time, I also get to sweat how much damage-control will be needed to pick up the pieces from that grenade I just threw.  Worst part is… I will wonder and wonder for a week or more until the mail-man beings me answers.  Where is a Blackberry when you need one?

Here’s yet another one I used to have a problem with: Drunk texting.  The best way to avoid this would be to take the ex’s number out of your phone.  Then again, you need to be able to identify them when they call, so you can reject their call. 

So I’ve spent all day on the beach, doing shots, slamming beer, and have a sunburn to match the flames of hell.  

**

I am once again in love with my ex.  How about I call her real quick and tell her?  Hmmm… no, it’s 3 a.m.  …How about I text her instead?

This can turn out many different ways.  I’m passed out on my floor and someone is beating on my door.  I crawl to the door and open it.  There stands my ex.  “Umm… I’m here!  You asked me to come over?”

Then, of course, the times I hit the deck so hard the knocking won’t wake me.  I wake up the next day to 99 messages on my phone.  “I’m here!”  “Hey, are you home?”  “…OK, asshole!  I’m leaving now.”  “Mike, you suck!”

God forbid they come in, you have sex, then pass out.  …Only to wake the next day going, “What are you doing here?”

***

You know, I can’t be one-sided about all this either.  No, that wouldn’t be fair.  So yes, I’ve had that woman… the one who wakes me up at 2 a.m. and I go and wait for her drunk ass to show up.  Then she passes out drunk next to me.  I’m left to twirl her hair around my finger and recall all the times I could have done her different, but didn’t.  …Trying to fight off sleep so I can look at her a little longer, knowing full well that when she wakes, she will leave without a backward glance.

There’s a saying, No matter how beautiful she is, there’s some dude out there who thinks she’s a bitch.”

(Ester asks, Really?)

“Well, I have one too.  ‘There’s also some dude out there who is still fucked-up over her.’

OK, you happy now?  Even the players and the assholes fall in love.

I’m left at times wondering what life is all about.  The guy who says “life’s a beach” or a walk in the park was smoking that funk.

Miley Cyrus, at the ripe old age of 16, told us it’s about “The Climb.”  Then again, she was smoking that stuff herself not long ago.

...or something

At this time in my life, I feel like I’m cliff-hanging and trying to upgrade my parachute.  I openly express my thoughts on life and love, but who am I?

…Definitely not your leader.”

* I know this looks like a total cop-out on Ester's part

** Because I have the same designer's pictures used throughout this post

*** But really it's a great promotion for someecards, in case you've never heard of them :)

You're welcome.