By: Marc McMahon
*Title credit goes to a friend of mine I have yet to meet but I believe I have known for years. Thank you, Mason, for this wonderful title, stay strong my friend.
I don’t know really what I’m even doing right now, to be honest with you. I just thought I would free write a moment and see if I cant knock free this big pile of crap that I can feel festering somewhere in the depths of my bowels. I thought maybe if I write I’ll be able to break it loose from the hold it has inside of me and send it back to where it came from, hell. It’s Like cancer that’s been rotting and badly forgotten.
Like a peach that has fallen off the tree left to wither in the afternoon sun, only to then shrivel up and die. It does not feel good, I do not like it and I want it to go away now. So, I write which allows my soul to speak its truth and in doing so I can get rid of this feeling and maybe even begin to understand why it was ever there.
It’s different beginning to remember things that possibly happened during your early childhood as you just turn 52. When you start to remember some of the things that your mind for the majority of your life has deemed to be too terrible, to horrific, full of too much trauma for you to remember. Marked in a file named “Caution Monsters Inside” that is buried away deep down inside of you in that special place your mind has created to store things of the past that you are not yet ready to learn of. A place created to hide these demons and keep you safe. Speaking of memories here’s one I’m working with now just below.
Theres the boyfriend that mother had that she does not remember, the one who lurked about in that small 2 story white house that sat at the bottom of a steep drive. Steep enough to where his home was almost hidden, not visible from the street and not a neighbor in sight. It sat right on the edge of a steep wooded ravine with a lazy creek flowing through the canyon’s floor. Thick lush fir trees and ferns abound. The maple trees filling in the gaps as their wide green leaves reach for the sun.
Combine them all and you have a thick forest canopy that barely lets in enough of the sunlight to see. It may be a sunny day 50 yards away and up near the street but down here. Its dark almost like twilight on a normal day or like it gets about an hour before dark. It casts this dark, gloomy, eerie look about the place. Sometimes the fog would linger around his home that sat down this little drive almost in a land of its own I used to think when I was a child. The fog made it just that much creepier.
It’s kind of like sometimes when I feel I have been locked in a box before but I have no memory of it. But why do I sometimes feel like that I wonder? Could it have happened? And if it did happen did it happen here or in that house maybe? You know the one I can’t remember ever being in. It’s really hard to say right now especially just slowly getting back into recovery and not having as clear of a mind as needed to deal with this stuff.
Do you want to know what really disturbs me? The fact that I know that home has a basement and I know I have been in that cellar before. I mean I know I have! This is a difficult thing to come to terms with and then I think is this just the way things went back then? I do not know for sure it’s really hard to tell especially since I just learned that Everything’s The Opposite.
Thank you so much for supporting me and my blog, for enduring the sometimes way to heavy of a topic I sometimes bring, and for believing in me even when I may at times not believed in myself. Thank God recovery is about progress and not perfection its the only way I stand a chance considering my track record. But mark my words complete sobriety shall be in my grasp in a very short time and as that happens so will more regular posts come from me and my blog here will be full steam ahead here again in the months to come. Stay blessed everyone and remember I Love You.
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!”