8-21-10  3am Saturday

In just a few hours, leaving the insanity of the past few weeks behind and getting into the peace of the mountains, a river, and rafting with a group I’m in at the hospital. Something they do annually to help ease the trials – the extra trials of everyday life that most in the group go through in order to just simply not die. To celebrate the fact that through it all, we’re still alive. I can’t express how much this is needed, at least speaking for myself. The past three weeks have been so draining it’s difficult to convey – my home towed twice, never certain that I’ll actually get it back until the last minute, and using everything I have to keep fighting, to keep on going, to not ever give up – though the thought has done much more than just cross my mind at times.

… but then I forget the strength we can find when we need to. I’ve been though too much already to let this take me down & keep me there, and it comes to the point where all I can do is laugh, know that everything will work out as it is supposed to, and do as much as I can. I’ve remembered that strength inside of me, the inner peace, that I had completely forgotten about in the everyday grind – it just wasn’t really needed, wasn;t used, so it faded away. I had become relatively complacent, just going through the day to day life of working on CultureFlux, hospital visits, cafe’s… dead eye smiles, empty laughter, the light in my heart darkened to a facade, a faint shadow of who I can be, have been…

I’m finding my heart again, realizing that passion doesn’t come from outside, doesn’t come from a new adventure, a new place, new people – it’s inside me, inside all of us, always – we simply need to remember where to find it, and how to keep it shining so fucking bright in our hearts that it blinds people with its beauty.

It’s nice to remember – to be coming back…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And then I finally take the time to read my Rob Brezsny horoscope thang for last week…

Week beginning August 19
Copyright 2010 by Rob Brezsny
Grammar key: Asterisks equal *italics*

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): “Ever upstream from myself,” wrote Belgian
poet Edmond Vandercammen. “I advance, implore and pursue myself.” I
suggest you adopt that attitude, Virgo. Assume that your best self is
sailing along at a rapid clip, somewhere in the distance ahead of you, and
it’s your job to catch up. Your highest form of expression is eluding you,
but you’re hunting it down. The most beautiful possible embodiment of all
your potentials is surging toward the future, and it’s your fun job to close
the gap between you and unite with it.


morphine, morphing

Perhaps trying to cut my morphine from 200mg/day to 60 in one giant overly optimistic leap was a bit (ridiculously) impractical, but at the very least it gave me a good base on what I can handle, and expect.

The idea was to only take it when I started to feel sick  – the muscle-ache, lethargic – the stomach cramps and an increasing loathing of everything and anything – person, car, street sign, sidewalk, shoelace, weather – anything that wasn’t unconciousness, where even bed is pure hell if you can’t sleep. Opiate withdrawals take a language that I don’t have right now to describe, and I still remember almost every minute of those four days twenty-two years ago, with my right leg entirely encased in a cast after breaking the tibia & fibula in a skateboardding accident. I had Angels around me then, Courtenay, a lover, & Rosanna, an ex-girlfriends mother, who did what they could to help me through it and after, respectively… but I digress. Juuuust at the beginning of, and a little after that hell, I would take another dose, and see how quickly I could get off of the morphine, end this two and a half year emotional emptiness. I think I was a bit idealistic, as there is just no functioning in the real world and taking care of the things I need to do that way – but I can come close without being so drastic.

I was talking to someone in a support group for the Hep-C treatment I’m on, and he has stretched it out over nine months so far. Nine fucking months. To hell with that. I’m going to do it as hard and fast – and rational – as I can.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At a friends house tonight, offering simply a body & support as he goes through some emotional shit with his living situation (another big fight with the room-mate this morning) & is now in the process of moving again. Really not doing anything except being here, but it matters to him, and I’m glad that I can be. It certainly comes with benefits as well though, because as much as I absolutely love the sanctuary of my bed, he’s got one of those posture-pedic mattresses (or whatever – where you jump on the bed and the wine doesn’t spill on the other side of it in the commercial) that literally cost as much as my motorhome – something he got while at his last job making 80,000/yr, before his life was drastically changed as well by our shared illness.

Still, we keep on fighting, doing what we can, and knowing how fragile things are, appreciating every second.

Looking forward to being off the morphine – and though I must admit I’m vaguely tempted to just have it over in those 4-5 days, go through the hell and be done with it… I’m incredibly happy that I don’t need to. I want me back.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I must admit I don;t really like writing about this; or more appropriately, having it read. I know that there are those out there who, as good as they are, as kind, sweet, or giving, can’t help but look at me differently – not necessarily judging by any means, but – just differently. They seperate themselves, step away, do all but cease contact – usually unconsciously I would like to imagine, but it happens, and frequently. I remember clearly being told by a friend a very long time ago to be incredibly careful of who I told, that this, and worse, would happen – it has and it does. Still, it is a part of me, and has been for over half of my life – so I write what I will and keep to the commitment I made to myself when I first began keeping online journals that I would do my best to be as honest as possible with myself and any readers – and let the cards fall where they will.

Creating the Chrysalis

I’ve been sitting here trying to find the right words to begin this entry – words that will help carry it past the beginning into what I truly want to say, words that will inspire me to put the following ones in the right places so that all that is inside might be just beautifully sucked out of me and go splat right where they belong, but that doesn’t seem to be happening. There are just too damn many of them that I want to say, but on the same note it all comes down to something so ridiculously simple that if I were content with just writing what the outcome of what I have been learning from the recent ten days has been teaching me, it could be as short as a couple paragraphs…

…but writing for me is a therapy, a way of cleaning out the things in my head & heart, a way of purging the old and in putting the words down, preparing my Self for the new.  I need to write of how after my home back after it getting towed again – this time through no fault of my own (it was an illegal tow & I’m fighting it)  brought me much more inside, I am able to realize how exquisitely perfect life is and how incredible the lessons are; how in working with my Runes they have not only answered so much but reminded me of the questions I need to ask. During those ten days however, not able to understand why when things are going so well and I’m trying so damn hard to straighten things out in my life and succeeding, each day brought me closer to ending it, to the point where I had it all planned out. It was not a decision made for something as small as losing my home again, but the constant feeling of futility, of failure,  and how far to many things in regards to relationships with people were made clear.

Life isn’t meant to be spent in a bubble, yet when someone meets with adversity people become afraid, go running away. There are so few people who asked how I was doing, & that is definitely something I will remember, of how important those words were & how grateful I was for them. A very small part of a much larger lesson, though a simple one…

There’s something I need to figure out. Something that needs to change, I think perhaps something I’ve lost that I need to get back. What that is I’m not exactly certain yet, but change is happening, whether I like it or not – and I believe that I’m going to like it. After all, change & growth have always been the things that are most instrumental in keeping me excited about life, and ultimately, without question – keeping me alive.


PASSION. Passion passion passion passion passion! It hit me last night – I’ve been living a life of fighting for dreams, talking about them, pushing them – but recently with no heart behind the words to give them reason, to give me reason, to make things make sense & have purpose. To live a life without passion is no life at all… and that is what my life had become. This, perhaps, is one of the lessons that I was supposed to learn, as each time my motorhome got towed, that, as terrifying as it was, was when my blood was pumping, when every single moment meant something, had an importance, when I was fighting as hard as I could just to keep running in one place…

The road screams my name, but there are things that need to be rectified, healed, made right before I can leave. Today I began the formidable process of weaning myself off of my pain medication – two and a half years of morphine is enough, and I have a justifiable reason to believe that it is something that has taken who I am away. I would much rather scream in physical pain & be able to feel the fire that is shielded in my heart, instead of feeling nothing at all.

Things are changing. I am changing, I need to, and at long last I’ve finally realized that. There is something I need to let go of though… some fabric of the past that needs to be ripped away so that something new can emerge, someting perhaps beautiful… the chrysalis is being created.