I relax here on my deck, staring up at the cloudless baby blue sky and infinite ocean, tuning in to the birds warble and chirp to a melody only they can interpret. I reflect on a much heavier, darker year in my existence. An era where nothing shifted. A point where mercy and grace were not in my dictionary, a time where the misery of being me was like boiling oil seeping into my spirit. My deep contempt of identity thrust me into a darkened realm of no colour or light.
Through sheer persistence, guidance from a few faithful individuals, my life became full of light and colour. It was through this journey I got the most potent reward, hope.
Throughout my life, people have advised me to compose a novel about my story. It was after I shared a part of my life. The classic reply “wow, write a book” I’m uncertain if that was to deal with their shock or they meant it. Maybe a little of both.
Over the years, I have scribbled in countless journals about my misery, anguish, and active addiction experiences. I have recorded hundreds of accounts in my attempts at getting well through the 12 step recovery program, which, after more than a decade of struggling, finally stuck.
I admire the quote by Stephen King about turning into a novelist, “you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to create, you will.”
So here I go. I hope you receive something that you can take with you.