Today marked a year in recovery for me. It is also the publishing date for my book, Shoestring Theories, if Amazon would ever process and approve my cover, prominently displayed above.
Writing a memoir is not easy, because it can’t just be a factual log of events, it has to reflect the human condition, where there is some sort of transformation. Whether it’s seeing the beauty in the chaos, almost every memoir I’ve read is about overcoming adversity. They are relatable, they are hopefully inspirational.
The amount of introspection though is daunting, and an anniversary in recovery is something I have NEVER experienced. It is a humbling experience to say the least, the amount of love in my life today versus a year ago is unquantifiable. If you have read the prologue to the memoir, you know where I was- broken, desperate and hopeless, and what those feelings of complete emptiness produced as a logical solution.
June of 2014, I weighed 130 pounds, had no home, no food, no money, no safety, no friends, and wanted to die. A selfish, self-seeking scumbag, never giving a thought to how to help someone else, but only in what I can gain from them.
June of 2015, I’m fat, and grateful for that, a home, enough money to keep the necessities met, help another person if I can, am safe, secure and at peace. I have a ton of friends, I can’t imagine not cherishing every day, to get another opportunity to help my fellow man. The world right now is completely fucked up- race, religion and sexual orientation dividing us, dumbing us down into the animal I was.
Religion and God to me are two different things. Man made religion, it’s capitalism using faith, or worse, politically motivating for private gains, be it war or power. You can damn me to hell, you have every right to do so, but the news is I have been there and survived, so really, nothing you can do or say to me is going to affect me.
So here I am, grateful for prayers answered in, at the time at least, unseen ways. A few people know why this book is called Shoestring Theories, the majority do not. I promise you it will blow you away when you finally get there. The point though is not that my story is unique in anyway, but that there is indeed order in the perceived chaos.
God plays a huge role in my story. I don’t call him anything, because he is everything. He dwells inside us all, that gut instinct, that undeniable sense of right and wrong, it’s there. We just lose sight of it. If there’s a spiritual highway, mine had more than potholes on it. huge sections crumbled, some were swallowed by sinkholes, throw in some detours over fallen bridges, well, it took a long time to get home.
In the end, the road I was on probably had no possible way to be repaired. I was shown a better way, for that I am light years beyond grateful. While so many stress over being fashionable, I am content being clothed. While so many preach a great game, I endeavor to play an even greater one. Kind of like LeBron saying he’s the greatest versus Jordan never wanting the tag, respecting the other men he competed against saying were great.
Life is about humility, gratitude and altruism, for me, because not only does that grant me peace, it delivers me happiness. Maybe the world could all benefit from some steps.