Operation Clean Recovery

The Here and Now

Sometimes the good Lord speaks to me. He did the other night while coming out from a dream. I’m waking up – soaking wet a fever and I can’t breathe…. I’ve got to tell you all something, I’ve been pretty sick. It came back yesterday for a minute, a small seizure followed by an episode of vomiting. I have some things ruled out and finally will start seeing a few specialists. Hell it could still be an ear infection; but these fevers and this dizziness, I lose some memory here and there. I’m confused sometimes, almost disoriented like coming out of that dream.

There’s coyotes everywhere out here in the woods of Nowhere, Indiana. Just a couple hundred yards away I can hear them howl. It’s funny how I’ve only seen two, yet I’ve heard dozens of them howling through the waning hours of a cold winter night.

They sound sad, like they’re searching for something they won’t ever find. The moon is full and I don’t need a flashlight as I’m walking the property that surrounds my farmhouse, the stars bright – each one placed there just for me. My knees hurt a little, my back aches and my heart remains closed and guarded, fixing it’s own brokenness.

I guess looking back on it all from middle age she was right. I’ve always been alone. You start chewing pain pills at 14 and wind up shooting dope until you’re 32, well I suppose this is where it gets you. I didn’t want it this way – but I’m only just now learning at 12 years sober what it means to have an open heart, to be vulnerable to love…But no, I never wanted it this way.

I expressed some regrets tonight so now she knows; I have some more to do, God told me this and so it will be done. If you’re in recovery or not remember this whole thing, this life – this dream it goes fast.

When you’re a young man you believe there’s so many years ahead but there’s not, there’s just this moment, this now chasing the next moment. Remember what you are: You’re more than flesh and bones, you’re a million stories leading up to you reading this post; a million choices made. Some leading to regret and some a memory – a beautiful memory to carry. I saw a miracle this morning and it was the opening of these eyes, the beating of this heart in an old junkie’s chest.

What ails me is probably nothing – nothing at all. But if it isn’t I don’t want to regret not writing this.

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