BY: Marc McMahon

Why do I always have to hurt? Why, why do I have to feel this miserable, gut-wrenching pain that now hurts all the way through my soul? What God do you think this is a joke, do you think my life is a joke? Do you think this is the way I want to live my life? Alone, addicted, agitated, and scared. Do you really think that when I was a little boy I said when I grow up I want to trade my wife, my family, my friends, my life, for something that can never love me at all? For something that has in the past and will forevermore be able to torture, torment, and ridicule me. For something that takes every part of being a man away from me, causing me to lye limp in the corner of a dark room, knees bent to my chest, arms wrapped around each knee hugging myself, with only tears of sorrow left for a life lost!

Is that what you created me for simply to be the laughing stock of society? Well, that is how it feels sometimes Father. You know I love you and you know I want to quit living this life as much as you want me to but I need your help please, I cannot do this alone. I try, and I try, and I try some more and although I have made progress over the years I once again find myself spiraling down the black hole of this disease and it is really starting to, well if I can just be honest father. It is really starting to irritate me. Sometimes I wonder when I am at my worse if you ever really loved me at all! I mean I know you do deep down inside but sometimes I have that thought, and it troubles me deeply.

person leans on arms with sad text

I don’t like Lucifer he scares me, Father, when he and his henchmen surround me on a dark night laughing, and sneering at me, grinding teeth, and slashing at me with their claws. And yes Father I know this to be true because they always come at the same time when I am asleep. I know this because I wake up with a claw mark down the right side of my forehead every time they have come. It is not a human hand that inflicts these scars on me Lord but a three-fingered, six-eyed beast, with teeth like a great white shark and the attitude of a mama bear who has just lost a cub. Not friendly at all, and strong, too strong for just me so I scream for your help but you rarely come, why? Aren’t I worth saving too?

I wrote the above paragraphs some days ago when I was still not able to string together any days in a row really of sobriety. I was feeling, scared and alone at that moment so I sat down to write and that is what came out. Sounds more like the opening 3 paragraphs of a short story I may have been working on more than a recovery blog post, but it came out here so I am going to publish it on here is my thought. When I look deep within myself there is still darkness I have yet to conquer but when writing that stuff reguritates itself into word. This not only helps me expose my darkness to God’s light but it also is a great aid in helping me heal.

With that being said I have had that actual conversation with my Higher Power before. But today when I sat down to finish this piece not knowing where it was going I realized I don’t feel like that today and after being sober for just a short time right now I am amazed at how much my outlook on things have changed. How much kinder my internal dialogue or self-talk is as well.

photo of a sign and eyeglasses on table
Photo by Binti Malu on

If you are in early recovery, or if like me, you find yourself back in early recovery due to a recent relapse do me a favor please, be gentle with yourself. Talk kind to yourself, how we speak to ourselves is a big thing and we need to watch the words we use when communicating with self, I think that is very important.

I believe we need to be able to come to a place where we can love ourselves despite our flaws and always want what is best for our self at all times. That is what I call Self Love and what I am consciously working on as of late. I work hard on that because I want to not only by my experiences but with all of me love everyone as much as I possibly can. In order to do that I must first make sure I look after number one and love myself. Like my Daddy always used to say “You can’t love another until you can love yourself” Thank you so much for stopping by and reading, have a wonderful day.


About The Author: Marc is a 50-year-old Author, Speaker, and Soldier in a war to loosen the grasp that Substance Abuse has on our society. He is a Father, Son, and friend to all those seeking refuge from this incorrigible disease. Marc resides in the beautiful Pacific Northwest where he enjoys, writing, hiking, and kicking the disease of addiction in the teeth, every chance he gets. As Marc always likes to say, “be blessed, my friends!”





2 responses to “My Life Lost”

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