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I’m pretty tough physically and mentally, and I fought a long and bloody battle, but in the end the alcohol beat me like a rented mule.
You better square yourself away, and you better do it PDQ, soldier. People have been through a lot worse than this and come out okay, so stop whining, shut up, pay attention, be patient, and we’ll see what your next move will be.
Humans are complex organisms, complicated in so many ways that we don’t understand yet; not one-dimensional characters in an old comic book.
It was immensely disconcerting for me at first to not have a watch; then, as I realized that “time” was not important, it became immensely relaxing—I was living by nature’s rhythms, by my internal clock. “Time” disappeared. It was wonderful. When we returned to society, everyone seemed so foolish and abrasive to me, hurrying to do this or that. I missed the wilderness; I missed being free of the constraints of time.
I am grateful for this, because I can see that when put to the test, I had come a long way as a human being since my drinking days; I was not completely consumed by anger, hubris, fear, or self-loathing, which were my normal modes of operation. I can forget sometimes what my mental state used to be like when I was in active alcoholism, and be very hard on myself if I feel I am not living up to what I perceive to be acceptable standards. These ludicrous personal standards (ethical, spiritual, professional, artistic) are far beyond attainable for any human being. They are merely a manifestation
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When you consistently and honestly take a look at the things you actually have to be grateful for, your perspective changes, and you begin to realize what is really important.
Besides, brutal criticism from total strangers, sometimes directed at you personally, is the price you pay for daring to stand in the ring and fight instead of sitting on your fat ass in the bleachers, heckling and drinking over-priced shitty beer. I’ll take the ring any day—I’m not really a sidelines kind of guy.
When everything that you know and love is taken from you, the smallest, most mundane things, stuff that you normally pay no attention to, like a random alley cat passing by your window, can have a very large emotional impact.
A wise man once told me “Son, don’t go up in your head without adult supervision,”
That same wise man who had let me know my mental playground required a responsible chaperone had also told me, “You can start your day over anytime you want to,”
When I become disgruntled, I will sometimes stop and write a gratitude list, to remind myself of the reality of my situation, which in truth ain’t so bad.
I have never wanted to have anything but a broad mind and a life free of fear, for therein lies the path to growth.
The comfort provided by the irrefutable certainty of one’s internal rectitude is a luxury afforded only to those who prove themselves able of acting with honor in the face of great adversity; for one must be tested to find out what one is really made of. It is never available to the ever-growing multitude of yapping dogs in our soft and castrated society who constantly criticize what they could never muster the courage to be.
But life isn’t a movie, or a book (not even this one). Life is life; and until the very second you die, there is no lasting escape from it. In life, sometimes horrible things just happen. Sometimes there is no new lesson to be learned, only tragedy to be endured the best one can. And sometimes the best a person can do is hang on as hard as they can, keep putting one foot forward in front of the other, and try to do what they know to be the right thing until they reach the end of that particular sad leg of their journey.
