It rains. It rains and I cannot work. I wait for the sun where I am promised a chance to earn money. I remember a time where I used to beg for any excuse not to work- now, I am grateful for any minute I have to work. But it rains, and I am grateful for a chance to relax.
I have been having these dreams lately. They are flashes, images of friends and times that have come to pass- some good, some bad. The other night, I stayed up into the dark night and stared up at my ceiling listening to the breathing of the my two roommates breathing as really thought of the ontology of my situation. Twenty- two. Away from home. Limited college education. Blue collar job. No real teleology. Living in a half-way house. I felt something powerful strike me at that moment. I think it was fear- a sweep of uncertainty.
For most of my life, for some reason or another, I have had a plan. College expectations, movements in work, social desires, etc. Even in my addiction, these parrallels into the routine of my life were formulated and kempt. The situation I am in now is as unique as any situation I have ever experienced in my life. Moving into the dorms in Ann Arbor, thousands of miles from Texas where my father lived still maintained a level of stability for me considering that I anticipated this moment since I entered high school. But, nothing in my life ever prepared me for this. D.A.R.E programs only peaked my interests in drugs, if you ask me.
So, that night, staring into my ceiling, feeling the sort of alienation one gets when they are young, alone, and wondering seriously in their life what the fuck they are doing with it, I began to think about my family and the few good friends I had left back in College Station. To be in the mind of a self-pitying drug addict is not a good place to be primarily because as any drug addict in recovery should know: self-pitying, self-centerdness, selfishness is the root of all our problems in the first place (don't worry, I didn't do anything stupid). In that dark room, I begged for a familiar voice, something to break through the deafining silence to remind that remind that I will be okay, that I will be alright.
And then, I remembered the passage reminded me to be still with the Lord (my own spiritual beliefs). So I got still. I got quiet. I let myself go. And I fell right to sleep. Calmly, like a child.
There's no real point to this post other than to point out a reality in my life: still on a daily basis to I have succumb to battling fear. While the obsession to drink and drug has been lifted, it doesn't mean I have nothing to do anymore. That's all.