While trying to stay clean back in 2003, one morning having woken early from intense dreams, Insomnia etc. I wrote this. I’ve been looking for it for awhile. It’s more about life’s condition and living than recovery. Recovery sure does include asking the age old questions – at least it did for me. Well this printed copy showed up as I went through a stack of papers I’m cleaning in my effort to turn a pigsty into a home. As I write this introduction I’ve been clean a bit over two years now. Longest I’ve ever gone since my first drug use high on Marijuana by a factor of four or more, that is this is the longest period. I think I went six months previously. I’m still an addict but I believe and hope the active part of that behavior is behind me for this lifetime.
I’ve been wanting to find this because I remember feeling that I had fairly well put into words a bit of my soul, or how I process that which others may look to god to answer. My answer is that I don’t know, I won’t know, I’m not gona kill myself because I don’t know or die trying to know. Still I will reflect on that not knowing from time to time.
OK now some neat nerd stuff. I had long lost the computer (stolen) that the electronic file for this piece was on. I used my Brother all in one printer with OCR capability to read a printed copy I found. Looks like 100% perfect transcription. It was a first generation copy printed on a laser printer.
Yikes! My introduction is longer than the piece! Here it is unedited.
September 29, 2003 0708am after a half night of insomnia and PAWS tooth ache
I set here with my pen in hand, keyboard and software though it may be. I wax poetic in my own way, limited by the shackles of un<mis>confidence in my writing and communication yet drawn or driven by the age-old and ageless question of what`s it all about, why is it? And what is it? I look for solace in the constant of living with myself and finding only me, only wonder, I wonder once again. How do you keep on going? To keep on keeping on? During those times when you must think about what and why, ever even knowing that you don’t and won’t know, yet needing to think on it to remember the answerless question, to fuel it with your curiosity and shame, compassion, pain and blame. Now remorseless remorse reminds me reptiousley reeking renewed reguratations…. When an optimist knows he is a realist and that the earthen existence of it’s creatures has not the answer if even the question I reflect on past solutions, and finding know comfort in their cunning poisonous ruination will only renew the cycle of insane answerneslessnes. I look to my fingers to speak the question and relieve me once again from the question consuming my every though haunted by it’s lack of answer.
Another day of abstinence — and that’s fine by me.
PAWS Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post%E2%80%93acute_withdrawal_syndrome, http://www.interventionctr.com/paws.htm,