The Hate To Go Back

My life’s ever changing.

With that occurring I am having to change along with it.

My wife has starting drinking again.

I have not.

I am not used to being around alcohol anymore. I am having to get used to it.

To prevent myself from the possibility of ditching sobriety I have made a decision to go back to recovery meetings.

I dont want to go back.


I need to.

I hate to go back for all the reasons I left years ago….

The main one being it’s a God based program.

I’m not a believer in gods.


I need to.

I know the program works.

I need to remain sober.

My needs outweigh my wants.

Like I always tell myself-

“Either roll with the changes in life….or get rolled over by them.”

Cant post a picture…shhhhh they’re anonymous

The Brewing

After 18 years of continuous sobriety my wife started drinking again.

Not being able to adopt the baby was the final straw in a haystack built over a lifetime of trauma that sealed the deal.

18 years.

We have been married for over 13.

Simple math.

I had never seen her drink alcohol.

Now I have.

To say that there will be a rough road ahead is an understatement.

But, I said “I do” to ALL of the cliche vows that go with being married and I’m sticking to them.

We met in sobriety. I didn’t marry her because of it.

I love her and will do whatever it takes to help her.

Except, drink with her.

The storm is brewing, another change on the horizon.

Damn, this life.

Paint It Black

I don’t do death well.

I can make up stories with it as a main topic, watch stuff on the dummy box that is engulfed in it, read the news every day where it is a mainstay of virility.

But in reality, it’s not that easy.

It is the end result of life.

Once the first cry out of the womb is bellowed, the clock to the end…..begins.

As expected as it is…….whenever it happens it is almost never expected.

When it does happen…and it is someone that at one time or another I ran around with, it becomes hard for me to deal with.

You know…..I’ve been clean and sober for quite a few years now.

The actual length of that time really doesn’t matter to me anymore. I don’t and haven’t been in AA or any other support group for a considerable length of time either.

I love being sober.

I just don’t feel I need to talk about it to be able to maintain it.

I just do.

I also hated seeing people coming in and out, in and out, in and out……until some just quit coming back in.

“Someone may have to die for me to say sober” I would hear in meetings.

Which I think is crap, by the way.


There’s this guy I used to sponsor when I was in AA.

Every time I saw him I would say,

“Dude….you’ve got tattoos….ON YOUR FACE!”

I would say that, because he did.

He would come over and have dinner with my family almost every night. We would talk about what was going on and my wife and I would give him suggestions.

Always to the point….never beating around the proverbial bush.

Before I sponsored him, he had like 12 other sponsors.

After me, probably many others.

Regardless of the state of his sobriety and my exit from AA, we remained friendly and in contact.

He would come around.

Then be gone.


We got word yesterday that he got killed by getting run over by a car shortly after getting kicked out of a sober living house.

I hadn’t seen or spoke to him in a few months but he will be on my mind every day.

I drive a beat up truck that was green when it rolled of the factory floor decades ago.

When I got it, it had been completely spray painted black….with individual spray paint cans and recently repossessed by the owner for lack of payment. 

The guy who it was repossessed from was the same one who spray painted it.

And was the same guy I used to sponsor that had tattoos on his face.

I’m just kind of numb.

Emotions aren’t my thing either.

I just hope he is now at peace.

As for me…

I will keep on truckin’

Stopping Squares

Leaving the bar with a supermodel, only to wake up the next morning to something that looks like it got hit on the runway……

Using stale beer for mouthwash in the morning……

Light fixtures in apartment consist of beer logo neons….

Happy hour is the only thing you are on time for….

DWI stands for drinking while inebriated.

These are reasons to quit drinking alcohol.

Were they my reasons?

Umm….not completely, but I do admit to achieving that status of accomplishment.

My reasons were simple. The state of Texas gave me a choice. Either go to rehab and quit drinking for a period of 5 years


enjoy a stay behind bars to serve out your 2 felonies. Each of which carried an up to 20 year sentence.

After much deliberation with myself about those choices, I realized that them wanting me to go to rehab was probably the better choice.

So I said, “yeah, yeah, yeah.”

It’s been almost 8 years and I am still sober.

Quitting alcohol has made me happier….


I was pretty much forced to stop with an either or choice.

I have been half heartedly trying to quit smoking for years.

I’m sure I have posted about it at least the last 3 times I attempted.

To no avail….

The health benefits of quitting don’t encourage me.

The health defects of continuing don’t distract me.

I. Am. Stubborn.


I like smoking.

There I said it. What started out as thinking it made me look cool while I was drinking has become something that I have to do to keep me sane.



I’m not addicted to them. I can quit any….time….I….


Like any addiction, a person had to want to stop the behavior more than wanting to continue it.

For me, something had to happen to make me want to quit.

I mean REALLY want to quit.

Was it-

Threat of emphysema? No

Lung cancer? No

Threat of my esophagus being taken out and having to use a microphone up to my throat? No

I embarrassed myself into it.

Here is the real truth.

I ran out of cigarettes while at work on Friday. No big deal…Friday is payday.

After work, I needed to cash my check and go pay the overdue phone bill, or no phones by Saturday.

My paycheck for the shortened week-


The phone bill for the family of 4 with a smartphone each and an iPad for the better half-


Using simple math (and not the new common core method of complete confusion and idiocy) I quickly realized that I was screwed.

I was approximately $6 short of getting my box of nicotine delight.

Sure….I had no money for gas for the week, groceries or anything else, but who cares about that crap…


After careful deliberation about my choices of paying the phone bill or getting smokes and figuring the rest out later..I paid the phone bill.

Six and a half minutes later I was in a panic.

I drove home and began pilfering the furniture for change.

Much like a meth addict picks through the carpet for a nugget of crystalline satisfaction, I was going nuts for nicotine.

I gathered enough change to be exactly $1 short of buying even the cheapest brand.

As luck would have it, I found a scratch off lotto ticket that had a winning amount of $1.

I get in my truck and head to the store with a spring in my step and a whistle in my throat.

I reach the cashier and hand her my ticket, to get the 1 that will get me my nicotine.

The ticket was expired…..


I walked out of the store…head hung low, feet dragging….a whimper in my throat.

My smoking habit was just stopped a day late….

And a dollar short.

It has now been over 48 hours since I have smoked a cigarette.


It’s a powerful tool.

The gate that keeps you off the runway is too.

Rain On The Parade

20131014-122624.jpgKicked in the teeth by reality.

That is what it feels like.

Start the day with a sober anniversary,

End the day with a sobering fact.

Recovery from addiction….ANY addiction is….hard.

There are zero guarantees. No warranties. No refunds.

Either sit at the table and go all in


Try to bluff.

The problem with bluffing in recovery is the only one stuck with the consequences of the bluff…


Dilly dally

with recovery and your results will be

dally dillied.

A guy I know from the start of my recovery took his own life this weekend.

I last saw him at the AA International Convention in San Antonio a few years ago.

Young. Smart. Alcoholic.


A person I know, who was on the verge of a multiple year sober anniversary, decided it was a good idea to go on a NyQuil shooter binge.


The cup on top is not a shot glass…..and I don’t believe the recommended dosage is set at a bottle at a time…..especially if you are not coughing, sniffling, sneezing, aching, don’t have stuffy head, and are not attempting rest.

I’m pissed.

I’ve been listening to Bleach by Nirvana on repeat since last night.

It’s fueling my emotions rather than calming them.

But I’m good.

I’m just confused.

Recovery is not a quick fix.

It takes time.

Tick tock tick tock

A lot of time.

A lifetime.

Active recovery means time on your side.

Bluffing recovery means…

Time out.

Tick tock tick tock
Tick tock tick…..
Tick tock…..

Frame of Mind- 6 Years After One

Seven-days in the week


Se7en-deadly sins

The number seven has been regarded with superstitious awe for centuries—some consider seven to be lucky; others, unlucky. Rather than being viewed as bringing good fortune or misfortune, the number seven has long been considered a digit of great power. For example, there are seven ecstasies of Zoroaster, the seventh day that celebrates the Sabbath, the seven days of the week, the seven golden candlesticks of Solomon’s temple. Among various early peoples, the seventh son of a seventh son was believed to be born with supernatural powers, a boy who would become a wizard when he grew to manhood. Likewise, the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter was believed to be born with gifts of prophecy and healing-


Unlucky 13

The number 13 is considered an unlucky number in some countries. Charles Stewart Parnell had an irrational fear of the number thirteen. The end of the Mayan calendar’s 13th Baktun was superstitiously feared as a harbinger of the apocalyptic 2012 phenomenon. Fear of the number 13 has a specifically recognized phobia, Triskaidekaphobia, a word coined in 1911. The superstitious sufferers of triskaidekaphobia try to avoid bad luck by keeping away from anything numbered or labelled thirteen. As a result, companies and manufacturers use another way of numbering or labeling to avoid the number, with hotels and tall buildings being conspicuous examples (thirteenth floor). It’s also considered unlucky to have thirteen guests at a table. Friday the 13th has been considered the unluckiest day of the month.
The Code of Hammurabi consists of 282 laws, but does not have law number 13-

13 and 7.

Just numbers.

They do play a significant role in society. Some believe they are unlucky. Some believe the opposite.

Others are divided on the 2.

For me, the numbers are part of an equation that add up to solve the question on why life keeps moving in a


direction instead of in a



Friday the 13, 2006, in the month of October, was my first day of sobriety.

I was on probation for 2 felonies facing upwards of 20 years in prison.

I was alone.

Truly alone.

My choices were get sober or enjoy a few decades in a cage…..

Or die.

3 choices.

A beginning.

A pause.


An end.

I reluctantly chose a beginning. If not for any other reason than to delay the inevitable for a while.

Today marks seven 10/13’s since that choice was made.

During that time frame, there have been many things that have happened.

I found a belief in God and relied on that faith.

I married the woman that I never dreamed I could have I life with.

I gained the responsibility of being a stepfather.

I became free from the chains of the state of Texas.

I lost faith in the God I came to understand in early sobriety and walked away from the program that taught me how to live life without the sauce.

I continue to search….I do not disregard.

I have maintained my sobriety.



Just numbers.

But, in my equation of things, they define the difference between





Reliving Decisions On The Run

I am realizing one of the great things about running is-

It is just me, the road ahead of me and my mind.

During these journeys, measured by miles, I have been reflecting on how I got to where I am.

My decision making abilities have greatly improved over the years since I first got sober.

I have wrote about some of them.

“The Chronicles Of The Frame” is a five part dealio about getting into sobriety and eventually getting out of the halfway house and into life.

Please read it, if you are so inclined to do so.

I mentioned one of my better life decisions, in brief passing, during the fifth installment.

During one of my runs it came back to me and has stuck there.

I return to my latter part of my first year in sobriety to revisit a bad decision.

At 10 months of sobriety, I was ready to get out of the halfway house and into the real world where I wasn’t required to sign in and out, ask permission to stay out past curfew, and could have a room without another person in it.

A guy I worked with had a room for rent. $100 a month.

I jumped at it.

I had my own room in a house with 3 roommates instead of 10.


Since I didn’t own a vehicle, it didn’t matter. I worked with one of my roommates, who had a vehicle, and the AA hall, where I attended meetings was a short 2 blocks away.

All my bases were covered. I sat back in my recliner…in my room and thought life begins NOW!

Too bad there was a “crack” in my crystal ball.


It took me less than 24 hours to realize I had moved into a crack house.

Beer cans littered the areas outside my sheltered room.

The smell of stale smoke, sweat, burning baking soda, and various visitors shuffling in and out of the front door at all hours, each with the stench of $20 anticipation emanating from their scratched and scarred pores, was what I was faced with for $100 a month.

2 months away from picking up a year in sobriety, still on felony drug probation for over 3 more years.

I stayed there for 3 months.

I don’t recommend this decision making to anyone.

Great deals ALWAYS have small print that are ignored.

Small print or not, I stayed sober. My new life started with 3 months of locking myself in “my” room while I was at the house.

I was like I chose to pay for solitary confinement rather than move someplace where I felt safe.

I had already spent a month in the psyche ward of county jail in solitary confinement, less than 2 years earlier.

The only difference was the lock was now on my side of the door.

Still….I stayed.

Staying sober during the first months of sobriety are hard and they suck.

Each day, away from the booze, confidence is built.

The mind gets stronger and let’s you know that you will be ok.

One. Bad. Decision.

Is all it takes to test that theory.

By sheer white knuckling it and stubbornness I stayed sober. My sponsor and friends in sobriety talked to me often and begged me to get out of there while I had a chance to.

My response,

“If you can find me a place for $100 a month…that is better than where I am at, then I will move.”

Stubborn. Arrogant. Stupid.

Me…in a nutshell at around a year in sobriety.

I finally did get my own place, where I felt safe and could work on the sober life without having to lock myself in a room to keep the elephants in the other.

The whole point of this post comes down to something simple.

Sobriety does not guarantee a mistake proof life.

All it offers is a chance.

Good decisions. Bad decisions.

It is still the best chance I ever took.

On a side note, I shaved 30 seconds off my 2 mile run time .


Still sober
Still running
Still good2begone