Standing At The Edge Of The World

I think about what I used to be like sometimes: angry, super quick to (over)react, coiled up like a freaking spring all the time, completely wired with a permanent snarl...yikes, what a scary dude.

I lurched or sprang from one thing to the next almost always reacting instead of planning. If I think about it, I can even conjure up the way that used to feel inside: like I was going to come apart at the seems. That is probably just the way it looked to. I was running on over-drive like I had a Hell-Hound on my trail...

When you are wound that tight emotionally, it's only a matter of time before you come undone. I was always racing against THAT clock. How long could I keep going, keep blazing before I turned into a freaking pumpkin?!

The Cocaine, of course multiplied that effect something like ten-fold and really shortened my life expectancy. I knew that of course but at that point if anything I was excited by it. I was aroused by the danger of tempting fate. I was all for dying in a blaze of drug fired glory. I DID NOT FUCKING CARE. I was standing with my feet planted squarely at the edge of the world giving the FINGER to the Universe. I wanted OUT, NOW! I demanded it....

It all seems so completely removed my my life today. Surreal? Oh yea, in a big way, almost like that was another person. Yet, as I lay awake in bed, even now that life is but a whisper away...

I am but one single solitary drinkie Poo away from re-activating that madness that was ME. Chaos doesn't even come close to describing the holocaust of flaming fury raging inside of me when I am living like that...in the throes of my addiction. I don't ever know what I am going to do next. I can be the most loving, gentle man one moment and in an instant I am that coiled spring, done sprung all over the place. Snarling, raging for a drink plus the drugs to fuel the ride for just one day longer. I'm no longer human...I've been reduced to operating on animal instinct alone.

Why am I so focused on recovery? That's why, right there. If I am not vigilant, if I don't reach out to others and share my experience, strength and hope, that is the bag I end up holding right there in that little story...that becomes me and I become that...Ya Dig?! I think you do.

All drama and word play aside, that truly is the reason I choose to live the life of recovery I do today. Because as I was writing that little bit of my past down for this post, part of me got turned on by it. As horrific as that all sounded, a small part of me got excited by it...now that is really frightening. See? Thats the deal...why? Because my addiction is a living, breathing, seething thing still very much alive inside of me and if I falter...I'll release it. And releasing it starts that vicious circle all over again...