Hesitation in Motion

The second sweeps like a slow motion suicide.

The clock face pure like the bleached skull of memory past.

He leans against the steel bars, watching, waiting as the clouds build.

He hasn't seen the sky in five months and longs for its spectacle of desire.

The sun and moon sleep on the heavy black numbers.

The energy of the storm builds, the pressure lives in his head.

Like a worn place in the movement, he watches for a hesitation in motion.

He waits 

watches 

for a hesitation in motion

I hurt myself today to see if I still feel

I spend a lot of time in prisons talking to men and women about a life of recovery, a life of freedom. Free from the bondage of addiction. Many assume my own journey correlates and in some instances it does, however the link between them and I is a shared experience of pain. It’s looking someone in the eyes, the soul and sharing in a unified experience of pain and suffering. I have my own history and hold it close to my heart as a reminder of the distance I have come. The journey I am on. To never want to hurt; to not impose suffering on myself. Prisons, jails, and institutions are full of suffering, and in the perplexity of addiction, much of this suffering has been created by the sufferer through a series of poor decisions. I understand self imposed suffering. I try to be an example of someone who has struggled through parts of my life and who has made conscious effort to stop make decisions which cause me to suffer. Many do not understand why I would spend time with those incarcerated and what good this may have, and that’s okay. Much of what I do is for me also. To help me understand the distance I have come. The changes I have made. The hurt and suffering which exists. 

B

I Hurt myself today

to see if I still feel

I focus on the pain 

The only thing that's real 

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting 

Try to kill it all away 

But I remember everything 

I met a man today
he stood with so much pride.
he had so much pain,
but still he did survive.
the way that he spoke
sent chills down my spine
the stories he shared
opened up my eyes.
this man has made an impact
i never will forget;
how he kept pushing,
how he never quit.
so think you very much for sharing your time
and making me believe I can shine.
J. Smith

Last week I had the opportunity to speak at the gateway foundation to their alumni group and men who are in residential substance abuse treatment. I discussed my journey into recovery and tried to share a vision of hope and motivation. A young man wrote the above poem about me and I felt humbled and thankful. Hopefully he will continue on his path to recovery.

This is my 100th post; something that seemed unimaginable when I started this process. For the 5000 people who have come here thank you and to Mr. Smith I am honored
B

being scared

That day in 1988, the last time I used drugs, I was scared. I didn't understand what I was doing or what I was going to do. I knew and had learned that being in hand cuffs and living in jail cells was something I didn't want to continue doing. I literally had nothing except some drawings, some letters and a few photographs others had sent me. There is very little more demoralizing than being treated like an animal. I hated every second of it. I despised the world and wondered every minute what others where doing. I knew I wanted to try something different and made no promises to anyone. I wanted to disappear from my life. I wanted to start again. I wanted take control of writing the story of my life. I was sick to my stomach listening and reading what others had authored about my character. I had made a plethora of terrible decisions but I wanted to believe I was not a terrible person. I wanted to change my life so people would leave me alone and stop saying negative things about me; I had no clue what that meant or how I was going to do that. 

I have the opportunity to speak to many about recovery, change, and motivation. I get to re-live this moment. To go to a place deep inside myself and remember the fear, the uncomfortableness of my life. I get to feel humbled about my journey. Its easy with the business of my daily life to forget how vulnerable, scared, and fragile I feel at times. I still feel uncomfortable with the world and myself at times. I have come a long way from that person in 1988. And it has not been without mistakes, there has never been any perfection in any of this. I continue to author the story of my life. I am continually surprised when  others say nice things about me. 

I hope this story is a good one for someone to read…

B

a paper boat

memories, dreams flow like the river.

its force creates a vibration much like a locomotive

there is no love here it has been carried down stream 

the echo 

a ghost

it cannot be stopped, only muffled

we drop hope in the shape of a paper boat

on the waters edge.

a love letter to the sea

the walls talk to me

heat vibrates in the air

the ghosts cry out in silence

to be paper boats

B

two weeks

I haven’t written for 2 weeks and I must say I have missed it. I sometimes don't know what to say or what you want to hear. I was to see my psychiatrist two weeks ago and have my meds again adjusted and my appointment was changed for another month. Guess I will continue to deal with taking meds which have a negative side effect. I was to get tattooed last week and that appointment was changed to 5 weeks from now. Seems like this is how my last two weeks have been. 

I did find out I have been approved to receive my MISA (Mental Illness Substance Abuse) license. Im very excited and proud of this and have spent much time doing training on co occurring disorders and counseling techniques for individuals who have mental health and substance abuse diagnosis.

I have spent a lot of time with the kids and outdoors as the spring weather has been nice. I have been working in my garden and look forward to the harvest this year. I have started selling prints of some of my artwork on society 6 and am excited about the potential. I am getting ready to start a series of collaborative artwork with my good friend Andrew. You can see his work at http://www.andrewrigsby.com. should be great work and I'm excited about it!

I continue my personal art work daily and find much comfort in the process. 

Not sure what else to say…be blessed

B

“it's harder to make the glass than break the glass"

this week was filled with me making speaking to others. I was invited for my rotation at a prison where I conducted 5 groups with 40-50 inmates in each. that’s a lot of guys, and a lot of me talking. I spoke about learning, listening, coping skills, utilizing skills learned while in prison to have a life in recovery, a life free of the consequences of addiction and institutions…FREE. I was asked dozens of questions of how to make it, how did I make it. People looking for an answer, the answer. Unfortunately answers that a person must find on their own path. Generally I fond most people want the straight, honest answer even when it hurts. Somehow I have been blessed with the opportunity to be the bearer of this type of truth. A truth that means it’s hard, it hurts, it’s hard work. I don't believe that others don't know this, I believe that we want the easier softer way to deal with ourselves and the world.  Some people in prisons want the easier softer way, they want the answer, the fix. 

I ended my week speaking to a group of high school students about my life. That’s always a personal challenge, a place to grow. During that presentation I have to scrape the dirt off of graves I dug many years ago, expose my imperfections, admit my faults, stand in front of strangers and tell some of my secrets. Honestly admit that I am imperfect. Acknowledge my blessings and the belief that I don't know why. I loved speaking with the high school kids and they asked great questions…some of which I had no answer…which is okay.

In both speaking situations I was humbled, I admitted I do not have the answers, but I explained that the it’s harder to make the glass that break the glass…this is my life.

B