Where I'm at in relation to where I was (autobiographical)

I don’t always make the best decisions. I dunno how wise it is to share these things with every single person on the planet.

Then again…

Let’s work backwards, chronologically speaking, if you don’t mind.

I just moved to California, near LA. I always wanted to visit California and, when I did, I loved it so much I decided to stay.

I had decided to visit when I was in the hospital last year. I was finally having my liver removed. Luckily, your liver can grow back. Aint that crazy? No other organ can do that. I guess I got lucky. I had only been out of hospital a couple months when they decided to do that. I was in the hospital for about five months before the year prior fighting the same illness. 

I had this bacterium in my liver and it made me very ill.

Some bacteria in some water someplace…

But, I hadn’t been drinking the water. I had been injecting it.

Because before that I was a heroin addict. For many years I was a heroin addict. You ever hear about the homeless guy who almost loses his arm due to infection because he can not stop using? And he’d have had some sympathetic job like he was once a kindergarten teacher?

I’m that guy.

I was a homeless heroin addict who almost lost his arm and I was once a kindergarten teacher. 

I taught a few grades all together in the mountains.

Then I taught “English through Music” in the middle east.

Then some bad stuff happened.

There, in the middle east.

Like, bombs, guns, stuff.

And, you know, I lacked an ability to deal with trauma in a healthy way. There were people who cared but I wasn’t any good at letting them help me. I was too into self medicating by then. Because, self-medicating didn’t begin when I started using narcotics. That way of thinking had been there, maybe always. Something feels bad, do something that feels good. I chose the wrong somethings. 

So, after many years of undiagnosed problems, self-defeating relationships, careless-if-not-suicidal behavior, and a general distrust of humanity, I decided to rejoin society, or at least try. I decided to do the things I love and care about, not that which destroys me. 

 And I’m ok with being “laughably earnest”. I am earnestly happy to be here. I am overjoyed to be acting again at 47. I know the world may never see how fucking charming I am and I guess I’ll be ok with that. Because anything beats what I knew not that long ago. Example: I have a scar above my eye. I got that scar from sitting on the toilet whilst too high. This happened while I was in the hospital for the liver thing caused by the getting high! I mean, anytime I look in the mirror I’m reminded. That I have been a colossal fuck up is written all over my face!

But, I’m tired of that.

No more, thank you.

The bear and I split acrimoniously but split nonetheless.

And now, if I can get over my stage fright, I will harvest any humor, growth, insight to do stand up comedy (or something).

I have potential, to make you laugh, to feel connected.

My thinking is, yes, there’s this suitcase full of horrible shit that is serving no purpose. I know for a fact everyone has one, they just have different horrible shit in theirs. And we may never have some Ordinary People breakthrough moment while talking about our personal shits, that’s fine. But, what if the sharing is where we make something of our shits, where we find ourselves not feeling so alone? 

There’s even a children’s book about it, Everybody Shits (or Poops rather)! I don’t really think that’s what that book is about but you see my point. We all got shit. Some of us, mountains. 

But, shame keeps wounds hidden, where they fester. Don’t think so? Tell it to the hole in my arm.

Embarrassment wouldn’t have killed me. But, embarrassment  was an accessory to my disease. It was a tool my mind used to keep me in place. 

You think you know how to work somebody? 

Well, your mind has all your secrets. 

It knows how to work you best.

So, that's where I'm at.

A little over a year off H, in LA trying to reassemble wreckage into something useful, maybe even beautiful.

Not alone.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Call 1-800-273-8255

Available 24 hours everyday