I do indeed take myself too seriously. It's hard not to when you're as important and compelling as I am. The last two days have done more to humble me than the entire (nearly) 18 months I've been sober. Derek Shepherd, you will be missed.
When I decided to blog again a few days ago it was because I wanted a way to keep my mental acumen sharp. Believe it or not, bartending is not always very challenging. In ways it is the most challenging work I've ever done but it's generally pretty mindless stuff. Mix booze with other booze, pour it in a glass, serve it, dodge some insults from customers, clean up a little vomit sometimes, collect your winnings. I am always interested in using my brain. Even if I'm using it in misguided pursuits of persuasion like talking a phone number out of a cute girl. The point is I enjoy showing off my communications skills and being a smart ass at the same time.
But it turns out I'm not here to divulge the secrets of my dank, dark, cavernous dome but rather open up my heart a little and allow out the things which cause me worry and hurt. Fear not, my blog won't be an exercise in melancholy or bad poetry. But there are a few bad, 80's love songs that I am trying to write and I think I'll try them out here first.
Yesterday morning I found myself in a shopping mall. I'm not sure how I got there. A few years ago I wouldn't have been caught dead in a shopping mall unless, of course, there was happy hour going on. But here I was shopping. Buying things I needed for work. I came, I shopped, I left in a hurry. On my way home a dear friend called. I love Tara Johnson. Let it be known that this girl is very likely the most important friend I have and I am blessed to know her. The next few minutes of conversation are sort of a mixed up blur but it went something like "what's going on with Derek?!? People are saying he's dead? Why are they saying that?!?" "What?!" "They're saying he's dead! His family is writing this on his Facebook page!" "Oh no."
And that's how it started. That's how a really lousy day started. A shopping mall at 10 AM. New GAP underwear and a couple of sale rack dress shirts and a dead fucking friend.
I won't spend time spinning webs of nonsense about the whys and whens and half-true Facts about what happened but what I will say is that Derek was a really good guy. Opinionated, pushy, rude...But loyal to the core and as fucking funny as a fat man in a little coat. I have no idea what made heroin better than sobriety and I don't intend to find that out.
Derek was the first friend I made in recovery. He gave me hope that life in sobriety doesn't have to be a drag. That being sober is cool. That I was cool. That I was cool just because he was cool and I knew him and he wanted to hang out after the meeting. Derek showed me that I didn't have to be ashamed of being an alcoholic. That it's okay to be a recovering substance abuser.
Over the last few days I've heard a lot of opinions about Derek and Derek's "choices". Some of them merit a little attention and some of them are just stupid. But here is the truth (and you can trust it's the truth because you're reading it on the Most Important Blog on the Internet - my blog): Derek helped a lot of people and cared about his friends immensely. But the greatest gift he gave me was a little confidence in the idea that life was still going to be fun sometimes.
I will miss you Derek. I hope they have some fun meetings in heaven. Good bye.
:)
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