Unbelievably, it's been a year since I started this thing. It's morphed from a confused, lazy corner of the internet into an unfocused, sometimes-motivated personal diary. Like the rantings of any other crazy man, there seems to be a kernel of truth at the depths of each wandering delusion that I've written about. Some of the posts seem sharp and well-intended while others seem like shots taken from the hip without much thought to aim or accuracy.
The reason that I know it's been a year is because I have reached the one-year anniversary of my good friend Derek passing. I believe I've handled it quite well and I'm not spending a day in mourning, but I awoke with a little sadness in my heart and I'm pleased to have healthy outlets for my emotion.
In the days following Derek's passing I cried. A lot. Like, frequently, and at weird times and moments. I was listening to A Chorus Line while I cleaned the house and cried at a fucking Broadway show tune. Jesus. In hindsight, that was a tough time in my life for a few reasons. I came to realize that I was grieving for Derek and for other people too.
Six months prior to Derek passing, a relationship ended when my girlfriend slipped deep into heroin addiction and all of the awful behavior that comes with it. As a friend put's it, "when you're addicted to heroin, every day is bad. There isn't a lot of 'good news' days." His death was unexpected and startling and it shook loose a lot of emotion that I was gripping tight to my chest like a poker hand I didn't want anyone to see. It was a strong enough experience and a decent enough excuse to relax my strangle hold on my own feelings and just fucking cry forever and ever. But something didn't seem right. I was sad that Derek was gone and I was missing him, but I was crying for lots of reasons and I wasn't sure what they were. Out of the emotion came the understanding that I was truly fucking sad about a lot of stuff. I realized that I was 18 months sober and hadn't yet cried once. I hadn't cried about all of the terrible things I had done when I was drinking. I hadn't cried about the terrible things people had done to me. I hadn't begun to honestly allow myself the dignity of showing the world (the whole world, not just my recovery friends) that I was sad. It all came up and out.
About six weeks later I found myself on a weekend getaway in Portland, Oregon and I had a few days to think things over. The conclusion I came to was that I had a right to be upset and I wasn't going to get over anything until I admitted that I was struggling to accept myself for feeling this way. The healing sincerely began that day.
It's true that my relationship ending the way it did was a big bummer. But today there isn't an ounce of resentment or guilt. I rarely relive those final days and those terminating emotions like hopelessness, anger and frustration and the fears of abandonment and betrayal. I have put a tremendous amount of effort into dealing with that experience and I'm so grateful that I have the people around me that I do. I've learned to let go and I've moved on. It's been wonderful. That is one of Derek's legacies to me. He gave me permission to heal and showed me that I'm human for feeling disappointed, angry or sad. He helped me begin to understand that I'm perfect just the way I am. That I'm valuable and beautiful. That emotional guys are strong guys too. That I don't have to be some caricature of masculinity to be a man. That I can love myself. That's okay.
I really do miss him a lot. But thankfully, I'm allowing him to be gone and I'm living my life the way he would want me to. In the last year I've gone back to school and have the sincere motivation to go to graduate school. I've quit smoking. I've gained weight and lost it. I'm healthier than I've ever been both physically and spiritually. I'm learning to trust God again and love people too. I've learned to appreciate the friends who are still here and I've learned that addiction is a chronic, fatal disease and it's something to take seriously.
I choose to think about the happy parts of Derek's life. I only knew him for 18 months, but he was a friend that had 18 years of influence on me. I thank him for that.
Thanks for reading my blog. I love you.
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