World AIDS Day – An Observation

Today is World AIDS Day, although I’ve been aware of it in past years I never really got involved in any sort of event held around town. This morning I attended an event held at the Broward Center along with members from my treatment program. There were representatives from various service organizations along with a display of photographs of people living with HIV/AIDS with single sentence quotes from each person. Awards were given out after an eloquent speaker gave an address to the crowd following which we all proceeded down to the memorial at the park along the riverfront outside the Broward Center following the Names Quilt.

After everyone in procession had placed flowers on the quilt we stood back to listen to music and stand in reverence. I noticed in the crowd immediately in front of me was an elderly couple. The wife held her frail hand to her mouth and wept rather silently while her eyes were fixed on a section of the quilt I could only assume bore the name of her son. Her husband, standing close to her held his lips tightly in a thin line most likely to hold back his own tears.

I watched them closely as they both seemed to be thinking back to a time when their child was alive, missing him terribly. For some reason I couldn’t take my eyes from them. I began to think of my own parents in their places. Thinking what my mother and father would probably be thinking of me had I been lost along the way. I know that while using my immune system takes an enormous hit and what could be a very manageable, chronic disease would flower into it’s most deadly form and in short order put me where so many before me have found themselves. In the ground.

It’s in moments like this, when I reach outside of my own selfishness to see what the future might hold for those that care about me if I can’t keep my addiction well under control. I think back to the times of heaviest use and recall something that although I was aware of hadn’t truly explored. I don’t ever think there was a serious time in which I was actively looking to kill myself. I do know this, at some point the notion of over-dosing had occurred to me as well as the thought that the drugs were probably seriously taxing my immune system as well. With those thoughts I remember considering that if what I was doing did kill me, that it was just fine.

What do you suppose that’s called? It’s not necessarily actively suicidal, I suppose you could call it a death-wish. Maybe death-acceptance? All I know is that today death is no longer an acceptable easy out, especially when I can see the hurt and loss in the eyes of parents who, I’m sure, long every day for their son.

Strengthened Resolve

Holidays growing up were best described as magical. I can’t think of any other time during the year that even weeks in advance I’d find myself in a state of frenzied excitement. Halloween followed by Thanksgiving then replaced by Christmas and crowned with New Year’s Eve. A smooth succession of costumes, lights, colors, gifts and (of course) the best food put on the table bar-none!

This year I’ve kind’ve glazed over the holidays, being so focused on myself and everything I’ve been doing to improve the quality of my life. One week before Thanksgiving we were given a sheet with the Thanksgiving group schedule and for some reason I didn’t immediately make the connection. It was a few minutes later that someone asked me the date. When I responded I’d realized that the holiday was just 6 short days away. How had that happened? Didn’t we just decorate the main hall for Halloween? I certainly carved a pumpkin, wasn’t that just the week before? Apparently I’d lost some time being so saturated with the day-to-day progression of groups and meetings.

Shortly after I’d made plans to join good friends on their holiday. Their gracious invitation settled my mind as to what I’d do so that I could refocus myself. It wasn’t until Thanksgiving Eve when I received a phone call form my mother that the full weight of the holidays collapsed on me without the slightest indication of their whistling decent. My mother, upset that I wouldn’t be there, was notably shaken by the revelation. It hadn’t occurred to me to connect my holiday with their’s only because the situation being what it is taking day trips can be somewhat complicated.

After the call I decided to change my plans to surprise my family. It was the right decision. I made the arrangements the morning of Thanksgiving and set out with a friend on the 2 hour drive. I arrived in perfect time and surprised them all, particularly my mother who was in what’s best termed as a funk.

I could go into detail about it but that wouldn’t be the point of this. The point is that the whole experience, as special and well, magical as it was isn’t possible if I’m using. I know that while in my addiction I do my level best to avoid even talking to my family. I’m afraid that they will hear in my voice that I’m not quite right. I certainly don’t visit because I know they’ll see the effects in my face and physique. Drawn and skinny is a tell-tale sign of my drug of choice.

Having that connection to my family and the warmth that is so readily available is one of the key strengths I tap in life that will always be available as long as I am clean and sober. It is in this that I find more reason to stay the course I’m on.

Falling Into Place

Three and a half months ago a woman came to visit me. I met her in a small room with two chairs and a table. I’ll never forget my first impression of her. She looked very young, her rich brown hair streaked with blonde and red and pulled into a curious style. She had large eyes and wore unusual, colorful clothing right down to her metallic gold shoes whose open toes revealed off-yellow polish. She smelled lovely, of perfumes and products and clean living.

I sat in front of her, my hair too long and shaggy, my fingernails eerily long. I’d grown a beard and was wearing a blue jumpsuit that although recently washed still bore a lingering scent of persons I’d hopefully never meet. I knew I needed a shower and my teeth desperately needed a good brushing with paste that didn’t lack all the necessary chemicals to properly clean. I was pale having only once in the previous 4 weeks had the pleasure of sitting in natural sunlight.

As she spoke and asked questions I eagerly answered them, talking far more than was necessary. Looking back I know why I employed such long windedness – I wanted her visit to last as long as possible. It was the closest contact I’d had with someone who reflected a world outside of the one I had been wandering for weeks. I answered her questions openly and honestly as best I knew how. She represented the treatment facility in which I have now spent close to three months.

The intake process was engaging and felt in-depth, substantially more in-depth than any conversation I’d had in some time. I listened to her speak of this place with a conviction that didn’t go unnoticed. I watched her every move closely as one thing I’d learned is that people who don’t necessarily mean what they say will betray themselves through their body language or expression, usually when they look away to engage in menial tasks like writing or looking for specific paperwork in the stack they carried.

The impression I got from her was caring, concern and complete confidence in the program which she spoke so highly of. As I observed her I realized that more than anything she was convinced of what she was telling me. Towards the end of the process she inquired as to whether or not I had any questions for her. I asked her just one:

“Can you help me?…”

Her immediate response was “Yes”. I didn’t just hear her answer, I felt it and saw it in her eyes. Although I didn’t believe I could be helped I certainly believed she didn’t doubt that I could. On that once exchange I made the decision that when all was right and the opportunity presented itself I would commit to it fully. Even though it took some time and there were obstacles placed in my way by those who didn’t want better for me I overcame them only because my life depended on it. That’s no exaggeration, call it the gospel according to addicts if you like.

I can tell you today, with the same certainty with which that curious woman spoke of, that they have absolutely changed my life. Not just in how I see myself but how I see the rest of the world.

Take One Down

Awoke this morning to beautiful, clean sunlight streaming in the window. I was almost temped to roll over and go back to sleep but I just didn’t want to miss any part of the day. Having had such an amazing experience yesterday I can only imagine better and better days. There really is nothing that could intefere with my good mood.

It was coffee as usual, enjoying my first cup with friends while savoring the first cigarette of the day. The conversation was as usual: light, humorous and full of promise about what the new day would hold. Then, I heard on the rehab hotline in passing that someone didn’t come back last night. Almost a full 12 hours after curfew there was still an empty bed in the small apartment complex we call home while in treatment. My mind raced with possibilities as to who it could be. Certainly no one I was close with…

Not so much luck today. Someone who’d I’d come to call my friend and whose company and good cheer combined with a startling level of kindness and generosity put him high on my list of those that would make it. The thought that immediately went into my head was actually a bit selfish. Somehow I’ve been operating under the impression that everyone here wants the same thing I do. That they are all striving to move further past their fractured lives transitioning closer and closer to something so much more gratifying and productive. It’s in times like this that one of our counselors most unsettling statements comes to fruition.

“Some of us have to die for the rest of us to live.”

I heard that at times in my first few weeks and I just chalked it up to “Some of those I don’t know have to die for all of those I do know to live”. I just never expected someone close to me to go back out there and pick up; better yet, I never wanted someone I would care about to set an example that we are all just one drink or drug away from. Somehow it makes you examine your sobriety, your relapse plan and even all the tips and tools you’ve adopted to keep moving forward on your new path looking for holes or weaknesses. I’ve examined my recovery foundation and found no fissures or crumbling evident but I’ll still throw down an extra layer over the next few days just to be sure.

A True Litmus

Today… where do I even begin. I guess at the beginning. Today was a huge day for me personally and professionally. The Chamber of Commerce was holding a BBQ in support of Project 100, which I could get into further, but they have their own website. My boss picked me up this afternoon and we headed over. In my head I was really wondering how I was going to react to the activity and all the people I knew would be there.

Normally, in groups that large I am typically an anxious wreck. Hell, in groups of 10 or more I’m an anxious wreck. My heart and mind race, I’m awkward and incapable of maintaining eye contact or keeping up with conversation. Today wasn’t anything like that, I was confident and comfortable. I enjoyed engaging everyone who came near me in conversation that was both light and interesting if not entirely humorous.

The big test is, as committee members we all had various service tasks we were performing in the effort of raising money for the chamber. Guess where I ended up? Slinging beer and wine at the bar. Trigger situation? It would have been months ago, but not today. Today it was just filling cups form a tap or pulling the corks out of bottles I had NO DESIRE to drink from. Although drinking has never been a problem for me it is a doorway to other more dangerous substances that I certainly do have a huge problem with.

I’ve repeatedly discussed with my counselor how situations like that are a huge part of my professional life and that I feel that completely abstaining from all substances is probably a good plan. Today that plan was in action and I couldn’t have been more pleased. Normally I’d feel the need to have a drink or two just to bring me up to a social level. It was beautiful to not feel like I needed that.

I saw a number of people we do business with along with old friends and even made some new ones. That, for me, is a huge triumph… Even under the watchful eye of my former partner whose ability to be cordial was much appreciated considering how awkward the scene could have been. All in all I’m still riding the wave of a natural high so amazing I can’t ever imagine going down the road to those unnatural highs that left me so bereft of emotion as to be numb to all that was around me.

I just don’t need that anymore.

Comfort Zone

In groups yesterday we had an interesting exercise. It’s something anyone can try and you should just to get the effect. We were asked to hold our hands out at arms length and then bring them together rather quickly, clasping our palms together and lacing our fingers. We were then asked to say which thumb was on top, right or left. For me it was the right thumb over the left. Then we were asked to perform the same exercise, only this time intentionally alternating the lacing so that the other thumb was on top… If you’re trying it you know that it is not only difficult (for most) but extremely uncomfortable, even unnatural feeling.

Next we cross our arms over our chest, something I do rather frequently (it’s actually a sign of moderate insecurity in some people, myself included). I personally am a left arm over right arm with the left hand tucked under the upper right arm clasping my side and my right hand clasping my left bicep. As in the last exercise we were asked to mirror the effort… again, anyone trying this (if you are anything like me) will find this to be almost impossible to get right without some serious negotiating.

The point of this exercise was to show habit and comfort and how changing the things we do most often can be wildly uncomfortable. The feeling that the exercise was verging on unnatural is a metaphor for how addicts can find themselves in situations where they might resist change because, frankly, they’ve always done things a certain way. Particularly ways that were not only negative but for the most part harmful. It’s in this excercise that we understand how difficult it is for people, often creatures of habit, to attempt to do things differently.

I’ve made the effort over the last day or so since that group attempting to retrain myself just as an effort to remind myself that even though what I’m doing here is completely different from how I’ve always done things that I can put forth that extra push to find comfort in a new way of living. I know when I first arrived here I was horribly at odds with a number of things. I even had frequent thoughts that maybe this isn’t the place for me or that they couldn’t help me or change me. I had moments of extreme anxiety both from situations here and uncontrollables outside the program.

I’ve managed to stick it out though and disregard my own sense of displacement and found that as I go into my third month of treatment that all kinds of new behaviors are developing. That a happiness I had inside me since I was a child is beginning to re-emerge. A sense of belonging, of purpose and of well-being has spun a web of comfort around me that I wouldn’t trade for all the tea in China… or meth in Broward County for that matter.

The Future In Storage

Yesterday was one of the most amazing days I’ve had in the last 4+ years. My mother, brother and brother’s girlfriend woke up early to make the 2 hour drive here so we could all meet at the home of my once-partner. Shortly after arriving we were joined by two of the greatest bosses a guy could ask for and one very brilliant friend. I can honestly say I was as anxious as I’ve ever been as I considered all the possible outcomes of this rather sudden decision to sever ties with the man who asked me to marry him just a few short months ago.

What if he denied me access to things that I hold dear or valuable? What if I wasn’t welcome to freely go through everything separating what was mine from his? We’d lived together for several months up until going into this program so everything I owned was fully enmeshed with his things. Fortunately it was as uneventful as it could have possibly been. All that I could sort and separate was organized and re-boxed, furniture and electronics were identified and shrink wrapped to protect them in storage. As the day progressed and I could see that it was really happening, that I could freely move forward with the rest of my life and my recovery my relief was profound.

What touched me most is the kindness, effort and selflessness of everyone involved. I just have to believe that if I weren’t a good person, a person worth saving, worth helping that I would have found myself alone in that driveway wandering where to even begin. I wouldn’t have known how to begin or how long it would take or where everything was going to go so it could be safely stored until I am ready to walk out of the doors of this facility and rebuild the life that has so many times slipped between my fingers.

I know I’ve mentioned the notion that a grateful addict will never use and I’ll say here that with each effort I make here and each hard decision I conquer I find more and more to be grateful for. For mothers whose selflessness in the benefit of their children, for brothers (and the women that put up with them) to put pause to their lives to lend a huge hand, to friends & employers (who sometimes are one and the same) to lend time, space, energy and support for someone who so frequently did the wrong thing in the hopes that they are finding reason every day to do the right thing…. I am grateful.

The Numbers Are In…

And they are awesome! I had my follow-up appointment today to get all my lab work back. I figured that for all the blood they had taken, along with cholesterol, liver and kidney function they’d also be able to tell me at least 4 of the 5 winning lottery numbers. Well, I got better than that. Aside from everything being within perfectly healthy balance, the great news came when I found out that my CD4 (or T-Cell) count was over 1,100, which is great even for someone without HIV, even better for someone with. The other great number was the number of copies of the virus or “viral load”, which was a minuscule 73. Basically, you have to start raising alarms when you have like 100,000 copies, so trust that 73 is fantastic!

I can’t express my relief and joy that I’m just as healthy inside as I am outside. Just knowing that I can have some more time without having to worry about combinations of medications and all their side effects for a little longer gives me faith that whatever I was put on this earth to do I’m being given plenty of time to get it right. That’s really the thing, I know that if I can get a handle on my life and my addiction than there really will be no stopping me. All the things I used to dream about since I was a boy become more and more possible.

I remember sitting under a tree off the front yard that had a meshing of grape vines that created this perfect shady spot with the smell of earth around me and a bed of gold and brown leaves underneath me and I would talk to the wind. I’d say out loud the things that I hoped for and wait to see if the wind would blow in acknowledgment and listen to hear if there was a pattern in the sound of the leaves rustling. I think now that if the wind ever had anything to say I wish it had been a warning about some of the decisions I’d be faced with when I grew up. Decisions that I know now were poorly made.

What I’m doing now, the direction I’m headed is evidence that it is never to late to change direction, just like the wind does. There might be some rustling in the world around you but once the balance is right, you’ll breeze right through.

Wax Idols

Wow… Why is it that when you try to suppress the truth, when you do your level best to turn a blind eye to all that is staring you in the face so very boldly that some how, some way it manages to leap in front of you when you least expect it? I’ve spent so much time over the years avoiding the obvious, telling myself that what I see and what I hear I simply must be misunderstanding, misinterpreting. Part of the reason I checked into long term rehab was not only to get clean but also to figure out and then resolve the issues that turn someone from a recreational user to a full blown addict.

I know what gets me every time… it’s wanting to believe something. Wanting so much for something to be true that I’m willing to suppress all the evidence to the contrary. Sometimes I think that the truth will hurt more than believing the lies, but you know what I always find out? I always seem to deal better with the truth. Sure, it hurts much deeper and sharper than any glazed over version, but here’s what I’ve discovered: That the hurt goes away almost as quickly as it sinks in whereas just skimming over the top of it is more of a constant ache. That ache can last for months or years if it’s never resolved. It’s the band-aid theory. If you pull if off slowly it gradually pulls hair and skin for what can seem like forever, sometimes it’s almost worth it to go halfway and then re-seal it only to try it again later. Why not just rip the damn thing off in one fell swoop? Yeah it hurts more sharply but it’s over quick and the pain subsides a few moments later.

Why I don’t always just face the obvious before it becomes uncontrollable I’ll never know. That’s what I’m learning, basically to trust my instincts, to know when something could be bad before it can be bad (or worse, when it can be something so awful I can barely comprehend it). It’s funny how the beast of self doubt always speaks loudest when it’s the thing you want the most. When it’s hollering about something you want more than anything else in the world it’s amazing how the little alarms that go off can be unnoticed. You know the ones, the ones that ring of future pain and suffering? The ones we really don’t want to hear as long as we can believe for a period that our lives can be all that was promised?

I have to believe that if we just listen to our hearts, believe in what it’s telling us and accept it’s guidance that it will lead us through the wax museum of fake promises and false people and guide us right where we’ve been meant to go the whole time.

Scared Sober: Swelling

WARNING: THIS POST DEALS WITH SOME SERIOUSLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS.  SO NSFW!

Ok, so I since I’m not sure where to even begin with this one. I’m going to do my best to pass the story along although I’m trying my level best to block some of it out. This takes place in a bathhouse and involves intravenous crystal meth users, being that these two things are synonymous with one another in the gay community, let this serve as a warning.

One night in a local bathhouse a young man who’d just injected crystal meth found himself in a room with a few other guys. He was wearing a thick, metal cock ring, the kind that is about an inch or so wide and anywhere from a quarter of an inch to half an inch thick. During play someone had accidentally elbowed his groin, and although the initial impact wasn’t painful to him, moments later his testicles began to swell. Noticing this his companion pulled him aside and raised some alarm. The concern was that the ring would be nearly impossible to remove and was also contributing to the swelling.

This turned out to be the case. They’d gone to the manager on duty that evening and asked for assistance, at this point the young man’s penis and testicles, as well as the surrounding area were swollen to enormous proportions causing unbelievable pain. They attempted everything to remove the ring with no luck whatsoever. It was at this point that the young man’s companion began to notice that blood was beginning to run from underneath the ring purely from the pressure. At this point the manager told him there was nothing he could do and they left in some hurry headed towards the local hospital emergency room.

In the emergency room he was rushed to a private area where nurses and doctors from all over the hospital were coming in to see the spectacle although none of them had any legitimate solutions for removing the device. After a period a doctor with some experience with situations like these called maintenance… yes… maintenance. Please keep in mind that the young man was crying in pain and the flow of blood became more and more rapid.

When maintenance arrived they were armed with a pair of bolt-cutters… yes… bolt-cutters. The doctor returned with tongue depressors and everyone worked as a team. The doctor and a couple of nurses used the depressors to lift the ring away from the delicate flesh as maintenance lined the bolt-cutters up and proceeded to snip. After a couple of tries they managed to sever the ring which, of course, was only half the job. They had to do the same to the other side in order to release the metal ring from around his manhood.

Once this was completed and the ring was removed the swelling went down rapidly although the young man was still raw and bruised for weeks after. I’m not sure what the long term results of all this were but I can’t imagine them being pleasant. I know hearing the story was traumatic enough.