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Showing posts from October, 2018

We can do this

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Far from success was the track of my business. I was on the fast track to destitution from the streets, to the institution. This institution was an elementary university for sinners plagued with the darkness of adversity. Cold bars and bare floors, and iron locks on steel doors, it sucks I've been here before. "This is the last time. I don't belong here." I swore many times before I was done. I didn't want this anymore. I can do this. 

It's unfortunate that some of us never learn this lesson, or give up in fear of, the freedom of restriction. Fear of the unknown, a fear of rejection, fear of success or, fear of failure. I must confess I have a known objection I will impress on this danger. I can do this. 
By what evidence shall we get this confidence? Where shall our competence arise? How shall we persuade them?
Our confidence shall come from our ability to learn and persevere. Our courage to fail with our fear, is our road to the person we aren’t, yet.
Believing…

Meth, a fire and death.

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Joy. I met her through Jose, the carpenter I worked for in Florida. She was an author, masseuse and a leader. She had a holistically healthy body, beautiful curly hair and maybe in her 40's at the time. I did a lot of work for her around her house in St. Petersburg, Florida. She had a couple of other houses. One in another part of the U.S. and one on an island somewhere. I can't remember where. I do remember the pictures. Clear blue beaches, wooden bridges through the island trees, and a small villa just offshore. Her little home in paradise. Having these other properties, she traveled. I think she wrote another book too. Which leads me to why she was gone.

Heather and I were staying at Joy's while she was away. As house sitters, we just occupied the space to make sure it stayed kept up. Like drug addicts, we used it as a sanctuary to use safely. Our drug of choice during this era of my mental emancipation?  Meth. Method of use. Injection.


We were in the yellow two-story hou…

Hey Mom, It's me...

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It has to be one of the most challenging experiences there is to be the mother of an addict. My mom had to make many difficult decisions, and consistently put herself in strenuous situations. All in the name of a mother's love. She wouldn't let me come home at times, but would answer the phone. She chose to care for my son, and had to tell me I couldn't see him. Today, I respect all of her decisions. when then, all I saw was vengeful division. Though my eyes saw hostility, my heart saw compassion. I still called when I needed a reassuring voice during my darkness. My family was my AMMO during the war with myself.   

I wish I could remember entirely every situation. There were so many. If I'd try and write you a story I'd be lying in someway shape or form. It end up being the mashing together of distant recollections, forming more of a compilation. What I can say with full honesty, is the memory of my feelings during these instances. She grounded me. She was my ancho…

Be Addicted to Life - By Lydia Ryan

Be Addicted to Life
“Life is the toughest teacher because it gives us the test first and the lesson after.” Eric (Airek) Dilley is a thirty-four-year-old fitness trainer and life coach from Lancaster, Ohio who failed the test then learned the lesson. From the outside, he just looks like an extremely fit guy who does what he loves. However, he has not always been this way. When Eric was younger, he made friends with the wrong group of people and started using drugs and alcohol. His choices caused his life to take a turn for the worse. Eric has struggled with long term drug addiction. He got hooked on just about every drug you can think of, went to jail multiple times, has gone through two bouts of homelessness, fallen off a mountain, and has been divorced with two children. 

Eric’s life has not exactly been a cup of tea; however, he cleaned up his act and seems to have a whole new attitude about life. “My past decisions, failures, and successes have all brought me to this life that I am …