tcr! diaries - podcast

And then there was that one time when it was 8 or 8:15 in the morning. I had called in sick the last couple of days because I’d been drinking. Too much. I called in[1] that morning, too, because there wasn't any way I was going to be able to pull myself out of it. Not that day for sure.

And Hell was especially hot that morning because I had not a drop to drink. Whatever I’d been drinking those past few “sick” days was gone and that wouldn’t do.

My ex-wife was going to take Maggie to school and then stop at the grocery store or something. I watched from the window as they drove down the street and around the corner. And around the next corner. The moment The Cube went beyond the trees I ran to my truck and drove to the liquor store like it was closing in five minutes. Even though the business day had barely started.

I was scared shitless while driving but really my heart was racing for a different reason. Soon the horrible morning alcoholic pains would quiet down. Soon I would feel that sweet release as Hell was put on hold. For another day.

At the liquor store I bought two half gallons of whiskey. I didn’t care what I looked like, what I smelled like, or what the cashier thought. Any public shame in that store no longer applied.

Then I raced back home as fast as I could, barely obeying traffic laws, and ignoring the other drivers. I didn’t want to see anybody I knew. Back at home I got nuzzled in the basement like I’d never left and put on Elizabeth from 1998 for background noise.[2] Then sweet bliss as I squeezed the cheap plastic whiskey bottle over and over again. Like there was no tomorrow. Any consequences for being drunk that day (or the days before) were no longer my concern. Tomorrow was tomorrow. Morning drinks mute the fires of hell.

...

This is what it means to be powerless over alcohol. This is what it means for my life to be unmanageable.

And to make my horrible story even worse I have a whole bunch of stories just like this. I played the odds each and every time I needed a drink and didn’t have one handy. I played the odds even when I did.

A guy said in a meeting that he knew exactly when he crossed over to being an alcoholic: when he started lying to his wife about his drinking. When I started hiding my drinking, started the sneaking around…that’s when all was truly lost. If you're there -- there's a way out when you're ready.

As I write and review and write this morning at 7:56 am, I’m filled with gratitude that the only morning drink I need in the here and now is a gallon of coffee. I still don’t do moderation well but I’m no longer magnetized to the basement futon and filled with emotional sludge.

And just so I don't end on a Debbie Downer: recovery isn’t so much about all the wonderful things I now have. It’s so much more about the horrible things I don’t.

#alcoholism #confessional #lettherebehope #diariespodcast

Well, I didn’t actually “call in” because that would require talking to someone. Instead I sent emails to save any verbal embarrassment. ↑

I watched A LOT of movies when I was drinking. ↑

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Yes, I still haven’t filed my taxes. No, I don’t need a condescending accountant attitude. There will be geometry involved. I’ve working with two 1095 cones and one 1099 sphere. Be aware: those cones have unequal line items and currently do not balance line for line. I’m a man, not a computer. The latter has my 1099 tax data and I’m fairly confident that reported transactions are accurate. You may need to write a calculus formula or two. We shall see.

I have a TI-84 Plus calculator (gold case) that you can use but you may have your own Casio you prefer. Pens and paper will be provided. I have two cats but they won’t bother you as they have no political affiliation. I also have a metal ruler. Again, be aware: this can cause serious injury to those who don’t heed its blade.

Your party had its founding in business and banking. I’m hoping that will be my saving financial grace. We can channel Reagan and eat jelly beans if you’re into that. I would hope you would have a briefcase. A premium, full-grain leather briefcase.

To sum this up: I’m counting on your ruthless, loophole-knowing-jumping, mathematical skills to find the deduction nooks-and-crannys so I’m not left owing the IRS thousands of dollars. Hundreds of dollars is doable. Tens of dollars would be ideal.

Hell, if the government ends up owing me money the TI-84 Plus is yours. I only seriously use it for Tetris anyways. Yes, you may show off my high-score to your friends and claim it as your own.

#helpwanted #taxes #diariespodcast

“Your party had its founding in business and banking.”

citation needed

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_United_States_Republican_Party

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People always say that the 12 steps are in order for a reason. I guess I never really paid that much attention to that statement until after I was in recovery for a year or so. Looking back on my experience with Step 4 I know there's no way in hell that I would've been able to write a searching and fearless moral inventory if I didn't have a concept of God that I believed in. I just wouldn't have.

Writing them was hard (I’ve done two) and I felt all kinds of feelings with the second one. Anger, shame, guilt, regret. Horror. Felt all the things that drinking kept me from feeling. I had burning resentments and sexual traumas. Had broken friendships and ruined relationships. And more.

I needed to pray for the strength to make it through, pray to that God concept each and every time I started writing.[1] All those feelings I’d kept hidden under blankets and in boxes in the basement came up and out. Like boiling bubbles in a stock pot. I was finally feeling what I should’ve been feeling all along when I was drinking. Being in touch with that hideousness forced me to lean on, rely on that Higher Power. Reaffirm my decision to turn my will and life over to the care of God. Remember that a better way of life lay on the other side.

And I was willing to feel and deal with all my monsters if that meant that I didn't have to drink again. If that meant that I didn't have to be the person that I'd become. Be the person that I hated. That I was. I was willing to work the Fourth Step if it meant that I could be somebody new. Be a sober me.

Back in the Second Step it talks about being restored to sanity. Writing the Fourth Step is part of how and when that restoration happens. It’s part of how my life became manageable again.

This step also gives us the freedom to make our inventory however necessary, with the guidance of a sponsor of course. It doesn't even say that we "wrote" it but only that we "made" it. I pay close attention to the wording of the steps as they are the program, they're how we get and stay sober.

As an aside I got into a minor debate once with someone regarding if everyone should actually "write" their inventory. We need our sponsor's input on how we make it and that doesn't always mean that we write it. Why not? If a person is blind or if a person can't read or write, then they need to do what works best for them to make their inventory.

The most important thing is that we make it. Don't complicate or procrastinate.

I was also relived to find out that we don't need to make a complete inventory but only a "searching and fearless" one. I wrote the best one I could at the time and the Tenth Step allows me to self-analyze and follow up on issues later as needed.

And after I put the pen down (because I wrote mine), I realized that doing my Fourth Step hadn't kill me. It was horrible for sure but I made it through with only a deflated ego. And that was one of the best things that needed to happen to this alcoholic.

I also finally got some real relief. The kind of relief that drinking never gave me. Relief at the spiritual level. All of my secrets were no longer secrets, they were out in the open. At least on paper. After carrying around emotional trauma for so long it felt good when I was done.

So I made an inventory the best I could, took a look at the things that were holding me back, that were standing in the way of me being the best me that I could. And I thank God for the help I was given. Without God, I wouldn’t have been able to write those words.

#alcoholism #twelvesteps #diariespodcast

And not "needed to" because those were the rules. But "needed to" because I needed help. ↑

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I still need to get a couple mannequins. I think about this often, at least daily. Well, maybe every other day. They’ll provide some kind of ambience, some kind of atmosphere that I need. In my house. Preferably the dining room.

No, there’s nothing sexual or weird going on behind the scenes here. I’m not gonna drill any holes in them or have different outfits based on different seasons. I may, however, throw a scarf around one if it’s chilly outside. Something to keep them looking current and fresh.

Think of them more as art pieces, as sculptures, and less as companions. I’m not J.F. Sebastian over here. They won’t have backstories or names or be scantily dressed.

Having a set has been on my mind ever since I was a kid and had my first run in with a JCPenney mannequin while shopping with my mom. Well, my mom was shopping and I was wandering around aimlessly. Because there’s nothing to do in the women’s section when you’re a 10 year old boy other than to try and get lost in rack after rack of clothes you despise touching and will most certainly never wear.

Daydream of a Roger Moore style spy chase through the ladies tops. Avoid whatever KGB agent that had tracked my location to this particular department store on this particular day.

And then I bumped into a mannequin. Fairly hard but not on purpose for sure. I was looking one way and going another. This was all well before I stopped seeing the world just from my eyes and only ever paid attention to what was right in front of me.

And then the female mannequin all but fell over. Luckily, I was the hero with my 007 reflexes and saved that day, saved the towering figure from the public shame of lying face down on dense carpet made for heavy traffic.

Somehow I twisted its arm around backwards and upside down or something. But with my superior mechanical and fashionable skills, I was able to repose the mannequin into a style, into a position that was fitting for the outfit. Obviously those store designers had little sense for fashion in the first place. Well, I guess I shouldn’t judge too harshly. We were only two miles from rural Iowa and all the farmland they had to offer.

Anyways, I don’t think my life will be complete until I have at least two mannequins. I need a pair minimum. One male and one female. So they can keep each other company. And having just one mannequin would be weird. And having a whole fleet would be bizarre.[1] And not in a good way.

And I can’t buy them online. Having mannequins shipped to your house would definitely be cause for alarm. I need them from like a Sears that’s going out of business or so. But they can’t be scoffed or marred. Seeing the white, chipped plaster (or whatever it is) underneath is just tacky.

#mannequins #homeimprovement #diariespodcast

Okay, so this whole post is mildly bizarre considering it's a little before 9 am. But I wrote most of it while driving home from work yesterday and only polished it this morning. ↑

Ironically, Sears Canada is going out of business, but you’d probably have to have them shipped to your house.

Can you pilfer a few from out back behind your local center?

I would, but up here in the wilderness we only had a Sears appliance store and it closed a couple of years ago.

Ah.. Our Sears appliance closed sometime over the summer. I was kinda sad because that’s where I got my washer and dryer.

Richard Warren, what has become of your empire? 😢

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Sometimes life pounds on my door, pounds with both hands to get my attention. But more often than not it’s just few taps, barely audible, just left of center.

When I see those things out of the corner of my eye, the kind that perk my interest, it’s important that I take another look. Stay in that moment and focus. I don’t think that whatever just happened along is an accident. I need to act on those glimmers because once they’re gone, they’re gone.

Time keeps ticking away whether I do something or not. And the odds are against me when I hesitate. If I wait too long it’ll be all but impossible to go back. I can’t rewind and recapture the magic from a moment ago. Magic's got a shelf life. Unfortunately.

Sure, in almost all cases those left of center taps don’t amount to anything. I don’t always get to find a rabbit in the hat but I never regret at least looking, looking to see what was making that sound.

Ya know what I don’t like? Wondering what would’ve happened, what could’ve been. If I’d just taken a chance, taken a risk, and not necessarily jumped through that window, but at least said, “wait, what was that?”

I’d rather have the thought “well, that was nothing” than my heart murmuring and longing for something that I let slip away. Something that was knocking gently on my door and I ignored. That flicker I just walked by. There’s been too many times where I just kept walking. Just kept driving…

Like those bricks in St. Charles.

Or that guy I only briefly talked to in high school. Or that pirate ship1 I never got on. Or that barbershop I never went in. Or that phone call from Brazil I never answered.

Somebody told me a few years back that I was meek. And it pissed me off to no end. Because it was true. I hate when my submissive, unassertive alter ego holds me back. Ugh.

Anyways, I’m a firm believer in that the more I stop and look around the more opportunities will become obvious. And one of those things will be a home run. A magical rabbit leprechaun. That changes everything.

Like a Taco Tuesday at 7-11.

Sure, sometimes it only changes things a teeny bit, just for that day. Like I only get a brief experience or flash of exhilaration or whatever, but those little rabbits can also change how I see life from there on out. And then when I look back on those pictures I took in the alley that night, I won’t be unfulfilled.

My heart tingles when I remember the time I joined the parade for immigrant worker rights2 only because it was happening right outside my work building. And the time my brother and I shot a scene for a movie in a grocery store on a whim because that’s where the cosmos had led us that night. And a few days ago when I conjured up the goat by the name of Thelma Louise just for the sake of nonsense.

Those three things changed everything. They gave me satisfaction for a life lived.

Even better: I’ll cherish forever the friends I’ve found because I took a risk and put myself out there. Smiled and said “hi” to a stranger.

It’s like all of this I just wrote... I was driving to work this morning and it was a fleeting thought about how I shouldn’t ignore those fleeting thoughts. That I should write about them so it’ll all be highlighted and underlined in my mind. And then hopefully I’ll stay two steps ahead of my own timidness.

The more we pay attention the more we’ll be given the chance to experience and partake in new and exciting magic tricks. We’ll pull them into our lives, pull the rabbits and off-chances toward us. Because that's what are hearts are crying for. Mine is anyways. Our spirits are little magnets that attract the likeminded...and as such, our internal combustion protons will seek out the cosmic electrons. If you'd like some science metaphors instead.

And if you have kids and take them on your adventures to Neverland, all the better. Encourage perception and exploration.

So to wrap this up… This isn’t anything new. The concept has been in at least ( two | books ) I’ve read. But I do know it’s more than just a concept or a theory. It's a way of living that opens secret doors and unlocks the handcuffs of every day life. The world is inviting us, softly, to participate. In so much more.

Just don’t go jump out the window because a red balloon floats by.

#missedconnections #advancedsoul #diariespodcast

There’s so much truth in your words.

I grew up better safe than sorry. Stayed that way most of my life.

It wasn’t until I did a whole series of “bad, selfish things” that came up aces for me.

That’s when I started having those “If I’d only….” regrets.

Now I do stop in the middle of a moment to take that mental snapshot.

Thank you, Thank You, Thank you. Both of you.

tism- better safe than sorry, I’ve been there far more than necessary.

jimi- yep, I hold off on commenting sometimes, too, just so I can absorb a smidge.

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The first nine steps get us sober. The last three keep us sober.

It’s one of the two mindsets in recovery circles and I struggled with it for a long time. Not so much because I was in one camp or the other, but because I often find myself returning to Steps 6 and 7 in the here and now. Returning even though I've worked the "suggested program of recovery." I return to them when I’m sick of being me, overly tired of living in a way that keeps me stuck. All done with feeling insane.

Six and Seven aren’t accounted for in the last three steps of Alcoholics Anonymous as the others are. I guess maybe they fall under Step 11, seeking only God's will...but that doesn't do it for me. I know the importance of God's will and seeking only that. I won’t say “I have a few 24 hours” because that's almost annoying.[1]

Step 11 keeps me on the spiritual path, keeps me out of me, brings enlightenment and whatnot. Sure, I’m all for it. It's one of my daily pursuits. But sometimes I'm really stuck on a character defect. I mean like seriously, "this is screwing up my life" kinda stuck. My shortcomings, ladies and gentlemen, can literally drive me painfully to my knees, searching for divine relief.

I could seek God's will through prayer and meditation and after said search I'd be given direction. But when I'm only seeing dysfunction in my behaviors, only living in the problem -- I need to feel that "entirely ready" part and I need to "humbly ask." I need to revisit the Sixth and Seventh Steps.

Okay, maybe if I was "better" at working Step 11, I wouldn't get to that pain point, get to where I'm almost loosing it, shaking with hate, spouting venom at people who aren't even there. In stressful situations with plenty of history (such as me getting divorced this past year) my fear can and has sent me kneeling before God in emotional agony, asking for God to take away this mess in my head. Even though I am walking the spiritual beam on the whole.

But back to my point.

So do we only work steps 1-9 once and then practice steps 10-12 for the rest of our lives?

It doesn't matter. As usual. Do what works for you. Revisiting six and seven isn't going to hurt anything or anybody. It's not violating some obscure twelve step recovery law.[2] It's not going unholy against the grain of god's will.

Revisiting six and seven is only going to help remove obstacles that stand in the way of us being the best people that we can be, that stand in the way of us serving our fellow humans, serving each other. It brings relief from the prisons we’ve built and grown accustomed to living in. It ends the suffering, expands trust and faith, and brings us closer to god.

Steps 6 and 7 unbuckle us from our human limitations and let us move about the cabin. Freely. It parts the clouds and lets us stand in the sunshine of the spirt. And that, my dear good peeps, is not against tradition.

#alcoholism #advancedsoul #diariespodcast

Hopefully my words qualify my sobriety without me needing to use time stamps. I’ve heard people use “a few 24 hours” as a stand in for actual recovery talk. ↑

If it is written somewhere, it needs to be unwritten. ↑

I completely agree with the “do whatever works for you” mentality. Of course I’m not in any position to understand your daily struggles. That fact may make my opinion completely moot.

Nope, not at all. There’s few “one size fits all” designs for living.

Life style long johns so to speak”.

Haha! Exactly. 😊

There is a lot of introspection

Introspect is one of my favorite things 😉

“…some obscure recovery law…”

that sums up too much of what i thought of “the program”

back to the topic.

i never understood anyone who insisted the steps or the program had to be “worked” a certain way. some of it would logically follow the rest, but i always felt like the minute you were serious about staying sober you had worked steps 1, 2 and 3. and every time you kept sober and sane after that you were working the rest of the steps.

the “staying sane” part was especially hard for me. i could “not drink” with the best of them but i could “make crazy” better than most. my own harshest critic. other people in the program were candidates for the loony bin as far as i could tell but i was only in charge of my own behavior. i have behaved every bit as dishonorable stark raving sober as i ever did when i was drunk.

You’ve also behaved every bit as honorable as the best spiritually enlightened person I know.

First 3 get us sober. Last 3 keep us sober. But the quality of our sobriety depends on the how well we work the ones in-between.

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And then there was that one time when I was fresh outta high school and floundering around like a moron. I didn’t have a job and was whining offhandedly about being poor while over at my sister’s house. Whining like teenagers do because everything should've just been given to me without me putting in any effort.

And then my sister’s friend, Don, said to me, “can you run a jackhammer?”

Now that wasn’t something I was expecting. I thought to myself, "I can’t run a jackhammer. I’m a skinny, artsy dork wearing Converse high-tops and a Garfield t-shit."

Anyways... this isn’t about me. It’s about Don and him trying to help. Legitimately.

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed but it seems like far too much of the time older guys give the younger guys hell. Just because. All in the name of that stupid trial by fire, chest beating kinda nonsense. Like the guys coming up after them are barely capable of wiping their own asses and need to be scorned and ridiculed.

Why can men be like this? Maybe it’s got something to with the next in line will soon take over. Maybe that’s scary so they want to keep them down for as long as possible. Who the hells the knows. I guess why something is, is rarely important to me these days.

So another time when I was a teenager I was washing my step dad’s car. He was there and so was the neighbor but they were just standing around gabbing or whatever. Then the neighbor’s son (two years older than me) walked over and said while pointing his finger, “you missed a spot, you missed a spot.” And he said it like five times. I wasn’t even done washing the car for Christ's sake.

The neighbor gave his son a puzzled look to which the son replied, “I love doing that. That’s what they all do to me at work.”

Ya, I didn’t really like him much after that.

Anyways 2... back to Don.

Even though we were two very different people, him being a construction worker and me being a pretend teenage anarchist, he had a really good heart. And he didn’t let those differences stand in the way of extending his hand to try and pull me up out of my floundering.

I never learned how to use a jackhammer. I’m not cut out for that kinda work. But that brief conversation with Don was something I’ve never forgotten.

Do that. Make a lasting, positive impression on someone.

Don’t be the guy that gives the younger ones a hard time in that bullshit rite of passage garbage. Don’t be the guy that ridicules because that’s what everybody at work does. Ya, maybe it’ll toughen them up but it can also make them cynical and mean.

I’m not sure if the world needs that much toughening up any more. I don’t know any kids preparing to go hunt buffalo these days or fend off saber toothed tigers. And I’m not talking about sports or the military here either. I’m talking about just regular every day life, talking about borderline bullying in the name of making someone else "a man."

Nurture the next guy, instill confidence. Give a shit about them because they’re not punching bags, they’re impressionable human beings. Hand out compliments and useful advice and not sarcasms and put-downs. Treat them as equals and not like you’re superior. I’ve always talked to Maggie like she was an equal, treated her with dignity and respect. I’ve never talked down to her or made her feel bad about herself.

I'm not trying to come across as holier than thou or anything but I do and don't do certain things on purpose. Even more so when interacting with others.

Those of you who know me well know that I watch people closely. Watch everything closely. Half suspicious and the other half interested. All Gemini for sure.

So Maggie and I went camping with our tribe this past summer. She had never fished before so one of our friends came over to help. Kris was very patient and kind, took a few moments to show her how to hold the rod and cast and all that. He didn’t talk to her like she was a girl or incapable. He talked to her like she was simply inexperienced. And he did it all just in the name of being a good person. For all the kids fishing. I watched the whole time and won’t ever forget Kris' gentle spirit. I doubt if Maggie will either.

And just so ya know I firmly call Maggie out on things when she’s dropped the ball. And then of course she feels bad. But getting called out for not doing the right thing and then feeling bad, that’s how life is supposed to work. Getting called out and made to feel less than just for not knowing or just for being younger is bullshit.

Be a role model, give them an example on how to be that better person. No, you’re not gonna change the whole world but you will change some scrawny kid’s view of it. We’ve all had someone in life that made ours a little bit better. Be it a grandpa or a teacher or whoever. Someone that we enjoyed being around, looked forward to seeing. There's no reason that we can't be that someone in somebody else's life.

I admire Don and Kris.

Be somebody admired. Be somebody to remember.

PS- If you like this, feel free to share with your friends. I always forget to say this.

#advancedsoul #diariespodcast #forsale

This is beautiful.

Thank you 💖

I’m still liking the guy who put the gas cap on for you. If you’re not careful you can still discover small pockets of humanity crawling around on this rock.

Yep, that guy made a lasting impression on me. In broad daylight.

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Peeps, I was driving somewhere a few days back and was in a hurry. Of course. I'd stopped at the gas station a few minutes before and that had thrown me even more behind schedule. Of course.

So I was sitting at this stoplight impatiently, rolling my eyes at the car line up before me. And then somebody knocks on my driver's side window. For a half second I thought it was the police since my license plates are expired and all.

But it was just a regular guy that wanted to let me that my gas door was open.

Way cool that it wasn't the police but even more way cool that a complete stranger had gotten out of his car at a stoplight to let me know that my gas cap was dangling and the door was open.

There I'd been racing through town with my gas cap flopping around. Like an asshole. I had thought I'd heard something bumping but that's normal if you drive a used car. Plus, I was in a hurry. Of course.

Again, pretty cool that the dude hopped out of his car at a stoplight just to be a better person.

So then the light turned green and he started to hustle back to his car. But then he stopped, did a 180 and said, "let me just get that for you." And then he put my gas cap back on and shut the door.

Peeps, that is nothing short of America.[1]

It may feel like our world is going to shit but we as individuals are what make the difference. In less than ten seconds that guy made the world just that much better.

So why do I put this out there for the universe to see? A moment akin to me walking around with my fly open? Because it keeps me humble, it keeps me grounded. Keeps me from thinking I'm all that and a bag of chips.

But more importantly it's a good reminder that there are way cool, selfless people out there. People doing their part to make the world a better place. People that we don't even know.

#trafficnews #lettherebehope #diariespodcast

I dictate many things to Notes.app and for this particular post it heard "America" instead of "miracle." I couldn't change it since I'm me. ↑

Thankies.

Yep, yep!

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Yes, you will be expected to clean. Netflix will be off-limits, however, you may bring headphones. But not your individualism. Independent thought is encouraged but keep moral outrage to yourself. This is a job not a march. Liberals are okay so long as you bring your own cleaning supplies. Hippies may also apply but will be required to check the hemp at the front door.

Cross-posted to craigslist →

#helpwanted #diariespodcast

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If you need to relax after your Black Friday, please enjoy a little piano and birds in my bird bath. Being November in Illinois the birds won't get to do this much longer.

#diariespodcast #diariesvideo #naturerocks 🎹 🔊

I’ve been getting 3 kinds of woodpeckers going to my feeder then bluejays, and cards. I could watch all day. 💯

Yep me, too. I love just standing at my kitchen window spying on them.

So enjoyable, so relaxing! I even had a Robin not long ago hanging around

I think the music I put together came out pretty well, and the video itself isn’t bad considering I shot it on my phone through the kitchen window while zooming in. 😊

And yay, your robin!

Great job!

Thank you!!

Very cool 😎

I feel bad for you everybody subscribe to him if anyone hear this 😁

Why do you feel bad? 🤔

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