The Edge

     Recently I celebrated 3 years clean and sober. Last week I received word that a very old friend of mine, who I have not seen in years,  was found on the floor of her apartment with a needle in her arm after having forced 5 packets of Heroin into her veins. I was mortified when I hear the news.Suicide was in the back of all of our minds.  I had no idea she had immersed herself into an addiction that extreme. She managed to survive the ordeal and is currently doing a ninety day stint in a rehab facility. 
     Now, while I never experimented with anything as life-threatening as the big H,  I have done battle with alcohol and food addictions. It was bad enough to alter my life and threaten my health and security. I sat down and tried to express what I was feeling on paper. This is what I came up with.

The Edge

And with a breathless promise, your seduction lured me in.

You stole my soul, and trapped it whole,

there inside my virgin skin.

Glassy eyed, I stepped outside and stood  on  twilight’s ledge.

A one night stand, you  grabbed  my hand,

As I inched closer, to the edge.

I lingered in the darkness, afraid that I might fall,

Hypnotized and tranquilized,

my back against the wall.

And still you had this hold on me, so able to entice,

The treasured sin that pulled me in

It came at quite a price. ,

All that I had worked for began to slip away,

The black reality,  of  my  mortality,

Did so, consume my days.

I look now to my future, there’s nothing there to see,

I’m qualified for suicide

That’s all that’s left for me.

Oh yes, you kept your  promise, you said you’d never  leave,

and when I’m gone, you’ll linger on.

You’ll be right there to grieve.

Back and Forth

So I look around and see many of my friends going through relationship ups and downs. Breakups, makeups, coming and going. Back and forth and back again.  The problem is they "Go back" when they actually need to "start over". If you are willing to try again, it has to be with a clean slate. If you can't let go of the mistakes of the past, there is no hope for the future. This is not saying that you need to FORGET those things that happened and deeply hurt you, but for your own sanity you have to FORGIVE. If you can't...then turn around and walk away. Most of the time, going back is not the answer. It just feels easier to go back and ignore the problem instead of facing all of the unknown issues of starting a brand new relationship. If this is the case, then you are selling yourself short my friend. Life is about living and learning. It is about the experience...be that experience good or bad. It is not about eating vanilla ice cream for the rest of your life just because you've never had the nerve to taste black cherry, or Rocky Road...or the hundreds of other flavors out there. Eventually you will find a favorite. Like the seat you always choose in class, or that dish you always pick at your favorite restaurant even though you look at the menu for 15 minutes every time.  Sometimes you just KNOW what is going to make you happy. If you are holding on to someone for comfort, convenience or fear of being alone....Let go. On the other hand...you could look at it all like replaying a hand in a poker game that you lost. When given the same hand you already know the mistakes you made. You know what your opponent has and in your head, you already know if it is possible to win. Trust your instincts and use your knowledge. You will know, in your heart if it's worth going "all in" or folding. Either way the choice is yours, but so are the consequences.

Hello and Goodbye

 To change my own life, I have had to let go of people I loved for reasons they probably did not understand. I have lost a few close friends for reasons "I" did not understand. The hardest part of letting go is losing all of the time, love and energy you put into developing these relationships. At first, it feels like a waste of all three, but as time passes, you look back and realize that there was a reason that all of these people touched your life. Every single person you meet, will leave an impression on your heart or your soul. Hang on to the good things allow yourself to forgive the bad. Remember both, because that will be the lesson learned. Saying good bye is never easy, but you just can't take everyone with you on your life's journey. Hello and good bye are both part of the plan.

A Memory

A Memory

   I thought about my mother today.  It was easier than it was at this time last year. I am coming upon the 3^rd anniversary of her passing. I remember because it was May 5, 2011, Cinco de Mayo, a day of celebration for much of the world, the worst day of my life for me.

     You cannot predict a memory.  You never realize when one is in the making until it is too late to change it. The randomness of the recollection is what makes it so profound.  What renders an event something you will retain as a memory for the rest of your life?  Your world evolves and changes incessantly. Every single moment is singular, distinctive and unique.  Every sight, sound, smell and emotion becomes a part of that particular memory.  It all fits together like a filmstrip or an old and faded photo album sitting on a bookshelf. Often it lies there for years even decades, lingering, waiting, and dwelling there in a patient state of perpetual readiness, anticipating that opportune moment when it is most necessary or convenient for one to retrieve it. 

     The happiest times that I shared with my mother, be that during the winter holidays or in her living room watching silly comedies as we laughed so hard that tears fell from our eyes, came back. Those were followed by those poignant memories of my sister and me sitting beside her grief-stricken, as she wasted away in a hospital bed. For a time, I could not separate the two. The good brought on the bad as though they were linked together as intensely as thunder and lightning, or as stubbornly as peanut butter and Jelly.  I could not enjoy the good without the bad creeping in and taking over, so I shut them both out.   I stopped thinking about my mother.  I avoided photographs, and steadfastly walked past the office cupboard, which was filled with snapshots and Polaroid’s, sentimental birthday cards and encouraging letters she had sent to me in college.  I “accidentally” misplaced the silver framed photo that had sat on my desk for several years before she passed. The same picture I had glanced at literally thousands of times while I toiled away at my computer making deals and writing papers.

     And then one day while clearing a spot on my desk, I came upon the framed photo of her that I had somehow managed to bury with papers on my desk, and the memories came flooding back. They began to bounce and ricochet inside of my head.  Faster than I could comprehend or begin to grasp. There was no time to sort or organize, catalogue or classify.  I collapsed down into my caramel colored office chair and stared at the surreptitious photograph.   My hand shook just the tiniest bit as I reached over and tugged open the little cupboard above my desk.  My mother’s own personal photo album fell into my lap. I had not had the heart or the courage to open this album after she had passed, and now here it was, in my hands imploring me to do just that.  Feeling quite vulnerable, I ran my fingers across the soft brown leather, deliberating my choice to open the old book or just put it back.

     I opened it. I saw my mother’s smiling face holding my brother when he was but a baby.  I spotted a photo of her at the kitchen table,  laughing so hard that her eyes were just slits perched on top of her bright red cheeks, and I saw the snapshot of us, together smiling at the camera with our arms interlocked.  It was then that I realized that seeing those pictures made me smile. They forced the last memories that I had of my mother in that hideous hospital gown to the deepest, darkest part of my brain while pushing these happier times to the front of my consciousness.  I began to understand that I needed to see these photos and share her memories.  I recognized that hiding her away was only hurting me.  I reached over and dusted off the silver photo frame which surrounded my favorite picture of her.  I put it back right next to me on my desk, where I would see her every day and secretly thank her for giving me the inner strength to do so.