Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Angels, Ancestors, and Some Philosophies of Life
Thinking about Pop. Sometimes, I feel like I have to be strong for him, and not cry. I feel like that is what he would want me to do. I know he could not stand to see me cry. Sometimes when I am in his room at my mom's house, I really miss him...but I tell myself not to cry.
And I keep thinking about the videos of my son and my Pop. Those were the only videos of the two of them that existed. I can never get that back. And it really upsets me.
And then, I think about my Pop. I know I have a very special angel watching over me and my son. I truly believe that. I believe that his hand is on my shoulder, and that he will protect me. I realize now, that my angel cannot stop a person from breaking into my house and stealing some very important things...important to me, anyway. But, I do believe he guides me in other ways...he is behind all the coincidence and random happenstance, things like being gifted with this wonderful professor to work on my book with...who happens to be the father of a recovered addict, like the random chance that my screenwriting professor works with Nick Jr...on one of my son's favorite shows, and every series of small events that leads to something bigger, and better...he is behind it.
I have faith in my Pop. I have faith that everything will work out. I know I have an angel watching over me, to make sure nothing happens to me or my precious little boy. I also have faith in the universe, and I truly believe that everything you put out there comes back to you. I believe that if you put out all the right things, and you put your heart and soul into your life and what you do with it...it will come back to you. That is what keeps the universe in balance. I also believe that everything happens for a reason. I know that we may not understand things when they happen, but I truly believe that one day...it will all make sense. I do not believe the universe is a chaotic and random place, spinning off in a million different directions with no pattern to it, and that everything is merely a reaction to that motion. There is something much greater than that out there. There are lots of things out there much greater than that. Look at our ancestors, the way my Pop looks after me. This has been part of the human experience for millions of years. I do not understand why I have to have this sadness, almost overwhelming me with emotion all day, as I have cried at the drop of a hat. I have been crying at commercials and cartoons, and Teen Mom all day. I do not understand why I have to go through another loss like this...haven't I done this before? Did I not get that lesson? But, maybe this lesson is different. And maybe I just didn't learn the first few times through...
Like most addicts, I have banged my head on the wall before. Sometimes, it takes me a few tries to get it right.
I think back to the times I have lost everything. It has happened several times before. One time, Liam and I were strung out...and we were staying in hotels...and we did not pay our storage shed fees. They could not get in touch with us, our number changed as we moved rooms each week. My mom was enforcing tough love, and told them to sell it. She called me one day when I was on the bus going to the Methadone Clinic. If I could get 45 minutes away without a car, in three hours with several hundred dollars...I could keep it. I just resigned to give it up. Liam's family on the other hand, really tried to get the money to the storage place...but, it was too late. My mom had known about it for days. His parents always enabled. I lamented more about the lost journals in times of sobriety, when I started to write again. But, I always got over it. I care more about those losses now, than I did then. I think about the Hurricane. We left a lot of stuff behind in the chaos. Pictures. Journals. Cameras. I had lost so much at the point the Hurricane hit...that I barely realized it was gone. We had been living in and out of various hotels for at least a year at this point...maybe much longer. We hardly had anything. And I had too many other things spinning in my mind then to care about a bunch of stuff...
I had no memories. I had no family. I had no roots. And I had no where to go home to. I was an orphan. I wandered the deserts in search of soul and water. I was lost in the forest, looking up for the stars to guide me...but the whole sky was dark. I had no sentimentality. I had no morals, and I had no shame. I barely had a soul.
And now, I have two souls. And at least two more angels, watching over me. I have my family back. And I have a place to call home, and several more I am always welcome at. I have plenty of food and water, and most of the time I can see the stars. Especially in the mountains. I have roots, and they extend over several generations. My soul is full, and my honesty is raw, and I have millions of memories, both good and bad. And I am damn sentimental fool.
So, I lament about the loss of the videos, and all the pictures and the journals from the past. But, this is just another wave of the tide in this wild ride we call life. It is the ebb and the flow of being human. It cannot always be happy, and that is hard for an ex addict to swallow. With drugs, at least we thought we were happy because we were numb, insulated to the sadness and pain, and also to the love and joy. It is human to feel these things, though. It is cathartic to cry sometimes, and our emotions are what make us different from animals. Emotions are one of the things that make us human, and it is an experience that is shared by all of us. Without those emotions, we become a little less human. And yes, I will lament...but I will also get over it, eventually. I always do.