Two Slices Of Pickle And A Dose Of Reality

A Sliver of Hope, a New Direction and a Genius Idea!

As of this writing Squeaky is cancer free. We have been through some other medical hurdles she has been presented with. We are tighter than ever. This entry was written in September, 2011 when she was facing Kidney Cancer surgery. I am grateful to say she made it through a tough season. She's got game! I am blessed to have her as my BFF.

As an addict my default thinking is usually me. I want the universe and all of its' atoms formed, or random, to revolve around my plans. Whoever came up with the expression "there is no ME in team" was not an addict. I can say that with almost complete certainty. It is not that we don't have feelings for others but that our addiction demands 100% percent of our attention. Once the booze is gone the melon needs to be rewired for healthy thinking.

In recovery I have found that the biggest problem that fueled my years of self-destruction was the love-hate relationship I had with myself. I would wake up each day and hate myself more and more.  My addiction LOVED it. The more I hated me, the more I would turn to chemicals and booze to try and escape MYSELF temporarily. The next day I would wake up with an extra helping of self hate and some physical pain, guilt and shame to throw into the mix. Then the games would begin again for another 24 hours.

For years I thought I was using because the world was all wrong! I realize now that I was using because I was all wrong inside. It was my thinking.  I had a twisted perception on reality. More precisely, I used because the people and atoms of the universe didn't act in a way that met with my satisfaction. As I grow in sobriety I have learned to like myself by accepting the fact that the world will do what it is supposed to do. I accept others as they are. Most importantly I try not to spend too much time alone in my head. It can become a Wall Street riot up there in a jiffy.

Now that I am sober I work with other alcoholics and addicts new to recovery. I perform for fundraisers and causes because I am grateful to give back this gift that was freely given to me. I will never give back enough. God and recovery groups gave me my life, family and a purpose to live back.

Squeaky and I had been going through a rough season leading up to the "Rally Round Recovery 2011." I was working on a film. I had just returned from California after a week of therapy and a shoot for an "Animal Planet" series. I am in final editing of my book Soul Parole: Making Peace with My Mind, God and Myself. I am about to start 2 new films. I was working to promote the premier of "Chasing Hollywood." I was in hyper "ME" mode. This happens in sobriety and reality.

Squeaky's kidney surgery was scheduled for 2 days later. The doctors were not sure if they were going to take a portion of her right kidney or the whole thing. I cleared my schedule of EVERYTHING. I thank God for giving me the sense to do that. I did bring a galley copy of the book that I intended to read as Squeaky lay in recovery. I made arrangements to stay with her while she was in the hospital. They were very accommodating. I never once opened the galley.

As the time passed all I could think about was the stupid arguments leading up until that day and question God about putting her through this instead of me. I was the idiot! My heart was shifting back to center. Why is it that we have to be in a big pile of shite with a loved one,  they're in an operating room or funeral parlor for us to look at how truly dear they are to us? It boggles my mind! We fight about wrapping paper and who ate my cereal? For the love of GOD who cares?!

The surgery went better than we could ever have imagined. They were able to use the Da Vinci robotic surgery method on her, and as the doctor said, "if her kidney were a hamburger we only had to take two pickle slices." It was the greatest horrible analogy I had ever heard.  It did make me a bit crazy that they assign patients numbers now during operations. They have a television you can check like an arrival board at the airport to see if they are "boarding," "on the runway," "ready for takeoff," "inflight," "on the tarmack" and "safely on the ground." Her flight was near perfect.

He said she would be staying for 2 nights. That was okay with me. They would know if it was cancer later in the week. She was medicated.  Her family was there to support her, and me, during the day. It kept me calm. In post-op she smiled and mumbled in tongues. She looked glorious. Every time she moved I jumped afraid she was in pain or going to fall out of bed or needed the nurse. I contorted myself up in the tiny Hobbit like chair and slept with one eye open grateful we dodged a bullet.

Being the real alcoholic I am I spent the hours beating myself up a bit. I also reviewed my behavior and realized I was not sharing enough of the projects I was involved in with my wife. I am proud she appeared with me in "Chasing Hollywood." It can be seen in its entirety on youtube. My Squeaky is on IMDB as Pina Connor. That is the Cats Pajamas! But I used to read scripts to her. I used to read all my blogs to her. I used to consult her on every career move I was making as I was making them. Her opinions played into my decisions on what road to take.

I can't tell you what we talked about during her 60 hour stay there. I honestly don't remember. We just talked and laughed like things were early in our relationship. We were focused on each other and I was in the NOW, not so danged worried about the future. We laughed at stupid stuff. She made me stop goofing around because the laughter made her side ache. I fetched ice chips and cups of coffee. I started calling her sliver kidney. She chuckles at the nickname.

Everything I try to do is for the betterment of the family and marriage. When things are going wrong in my life, I need to look at myself first. The problem I often have is that I have a grand plan inside my head. It is carefully crafted. We will work together spreading a message of hope and recovery to alcoholic/addicts and their loved ones. She can't see my thoughts. ACTIONS speak louder than thoughts. God calls the shots. I just show up for each DAYS game and worry less about the season....

Another Beer With Dad....

Another Beer with Dad....

TODAY IS THE SECOND MEMORIAL DAY WITHOUT MY FATHER. I WILL BRING HIM A BEER, LIKE I DID LAST YEAR. IT WILL BE NICE TO WATCH HIM HAVE A COLD ONE....

There are certain concepts that I, as a recovering addict, have to keep at the forefront of my thinking if I am to maintain my sobriety. The most important one is to remember at all times that I am just one drink or drug away from the hell I went through for nearly 28 years. When I wake up in the morning I ask God to get into my head before I do because if I get in first it can be a very long and difficult day.

It doesn't mean that I am going to drink or take a drug. It does mean that addiction is a thinking problem. More specifically it is an over thinking problem. At least for me it is. If I wake up and get my melon into overdrive before my first tinkle, the day is likely to be filled with worry, anxiety, frustration, fear, anger, resentment and all the negative emotions that drove my addiction and depression for years.

I used to escape me, not you. Although I don't use any longer I still find myself following me wherever I go. I have had to forge a new relationship with me based on the things I have learned in recovery. My life is for the most part exactly what I want it to be. I am grateful to be alive and thriving in the acting and comedy world, something that was impossible while using. More importantly, I am a trusted friend, husband, father and son. I also try to help others find their way to the gift of sobriety that I have been given so freely.

That being said, I love days when I am just about to crawl under my Scooby Doo sheets and I realize that I went the whole day NOT realizing I was an addict, alcoholic or depression sufferer. In other words, I made it through the day like an earthling! How cool is that?! It doesn't mean that I take my disease for granted. It means I am getting stronger in my sobriety. I spent 28 years using. It will take the rest of my life untwisting the mess inside my head and those I tried to rewire along the way.

Yesterday was the paradox of that feeling. If you watched the video I posted above, Squeaky and I went to Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery yesterday to "have a beer with my Dad." I stopped at the liquor store and was thrilled that the one I visited allowed for the purchase of just one. It has been two and a half years since I have purchased alcohol and it really had no effect on me. I was on a mission to get my dad a beer. My family knows I am McGyver-like in my focus when there is a mission at hand.

The funny side note to that was I stopped at the local corner store to try to get a can earlier in the morning, having forgotten the Sunday selling restrictions, and the store owner looked at me cockeyed when I asked what time they were open for liquor sales. I quickly said it was for my Dad. I am surprised they stayed in business after I quit the stuff. I know their profits went way down for sure!

The memorial was beautiful. It stopped raining long enough for us to toast Pops. The birds were singing and he has a great view of the forest and a pavilion where they honor the latest Vet to be interred there. In an ironic twist he is right next to a soldier named Jones, my wife's maiden name. That soldier was only 46 years old.

As I spilled the frothy beer into the gravel, the earth seemed to gulp it down with vigor. The soldiers all had a sip along with my dad. As I said my goodbyes I could smell the beer on my hands and it brought memories flooding into my mind; some good, many bad. The good ones were of the many laughs I had with my dad over a few cold ones at many a Bear game and when I worked for him. The bad was for the months, and at one time years, I missed in my alcoholic fog that we didn't speak because he couldn't bare to see me self-destruct.

There was no sadness in the time with him. I spent many hours with him at the end of his life making up for those lost years. I am at peace with my past mainly because I can not change it. I have learned from it and know what not to do so I don't have to live it again. I always like to point out in my blog that I am not anti-alcohol or anti-anything. It's just not for me because I can't stop once I get rolling. One is too many and a thousand isn't enough.

Squeaky chuckled as I wiped my hands in the grass to get the smell off my hands. It was like I was trying to wipe bird poop off my hands. My few moments of discomfort were worth the symbolic enjoyment I am sure my dad got out of that beer. He was probably laughing at me with his unit in heaven while I squished my nose at my skunky, beer soaked hands.

I know how he must have felt during those lost years when he didn't know where I was but knew I was hurting and slowly destroying myself. My middle daughter hasn't been around in a week. She dropped our son off today and didn't even stop in to say hi. She had a hangover. She is lost, but she's an adult. There is little I can do. I can be grateful for my sobriety, pray and have the confidence and faith that I will be of clear mind to help her when she's ready for it. My dad was there when I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I'll be there for her too.

You are what you think....

FOOD FOR THOUGHT....

The Enlisted Protect YOUR FREEDOM! Say THANKS!

My Dad and I had a lot in common. We both shared a passion for the Bears, America and Ireland. We both wore our Irish-American Pride on our shirt sleeves. Making other people laugh made us laugh. I can't count how many Bear games we endured in the 70's, and cheered through, in the 80's and 90's. Lastly, we both served in the United States Armed Forces. My Dad was an Army Sergeant, I spent a short stint in the U.S Naval Reserve between the ages of 40 and 41 during the current conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan.

There were also some stark contrasts. My Pop liked the Cubs. I love the Sox. He was a staunch Republican. I am a little more moderate. I guess you could call me a late blooming hippie with centrist views. He was pro-military period! I saw things from a different perspective. I see now that sometimes conflict is unavoidable.

My Dad loved his days in the service. He did most of his tour in Georgia, and was a radio instructor. He was a model soldier in uniform, He believed in the brotherhood, in and out of it. In a twist of irony his best friend from kindergarten ended up transferring to his base. That's my Uncle Bob. They were so close I was born on the same day as his daughter Kim. Now that's friends!

After the service they remained tight buddies, and Bears season ticket holders, until my pop passed on. Uncle Bob, and I took some of his ashes to the Seattle game in 2010, two months after he went up to hang with Halas and Sweetness. He is a part of every game from the North End Zone. Pulling that off is a story for another day. He would have been proud of my stealth mission.

He is interred at Abraham Lincoln National Cemetery. Some of them were held back for me to take to Ireland's Ring of Kerry. If you ever wonder about the sacrifices that our men and women in uniform give for this country it's worth the trip. Visit ALNC in Elwood, Illinois or Arlington National Cemetery, in Arlington, Virginia. I have had the honor of visiting both. When I was 12 I saw the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Even as a kid it left me awe struck. The sea of white headstones, perfectly sized and in exact formation will drive my point to the center of your soul. It is awe inspiring. The silence is deafening. The sacrifice displayed is humbling.

My stint in the Navy was short. I served out of Glenview. I was in for just over a year. I wanted to serve. My body couldn't handle it. My desire to serve my country was stronger than the demands serving it put on my body. I am grateful for that time. I was honorably discharged shortly there after. My Dad and I weren't even speaking during the time I served. My booze and addiction issues had driven him away. My self-destruction pushed him away. He couldn't bear to see me crash and burn any longer.

I don't care if you are pro-military or pro-peace. No soldier wants to go to war. I believe war should be fought only as a last resort. It should be fought for protecting our country, and the oppressed. It should not be fought for resources or economic gain. In WW1, WW2, Korea and Vietnam thousands of jobs were created with American sweat and pride. Now our country is in the worst shape it's been in since the depression and we don't create jobs HERE?!  It's been over 10 years! Where's Rosey the Riveter?  MADE IN THE USA has been traded for Made in China, or some third world nation. I will never understand that. Feed your family...then feed the world.

Every time I see a person in uniform I take the time to thank them for their service to our Country, AMERICA! I don't care if you are the most ardent anti-war protester on the planet. They fight for your right to speak out. They protect your FREEDOM! Take the time to say thanks for doing, WHAT YOU COULDN'T EVEN DREAM OF!

My Pop would have fought for this country at age 80, in his pajamas. I feel the same way. Thank you to the men and women who proudly serve in the ARMY, NAVY, AIR FORCE, MARINES, U.S. COAST GUARD, and all the RESERVE UNITS. You guys miss time with your families, while I enjoy mine. You eat in tents, while I wonder where I should eat. You die...to protect...Me. Thank you is a gross understatement for the gratitude I have for what you do. You are AMERICAN MADE! On Memorial Day when you're cooking hot dog,s and sucking back suds, take time to give thanks for those who make those good times possible. If a vet needs a hand...give him two. If you are anti-war, thank the man for giving you the right to speak out about hating it....
GOD BLESS YOU ALL! I miss ya Pop....

NOTE TO THE GOVERNMENT: The men and women who protect and serve the greatest nation in the world NEED to be taken care of when they return!  PERIOD! I see too many KIDS with addiction and PTSD issues in recovery. I see yet others wandering the streets in oblivion. Open up the coffers and pay them back for what they gave DEARLY and FREELY to protect us!
They paid their dues...Pay them back with your interest....

One of THOSE Days....

Every day I try to make people smile. I try to post an uplifting picture or quote to get people off to a positive start in the morning. My posts usually revolve around catching dreams, and not giving up. To be completely honest, there are days that I post encouraging words when I'm feeling discouraged.

When I think I'm going to have "one of those days," I DO! Today is a perfect example. I woke up with the world on a string. I was sitting on a rainbow. I posted a few quips, and sent out my "Happy Birthdays," as I sipped my coffee. I was scheduled for a commercial audition that I was looking forward to. I was waiting for the final proof to come back on Soul Parole. I was grateful to know I was going to work tonight. Things were just peachy. Then it happened!

I opened the door to the basement and saw it had flooded from the heavy rains that passed through last night. I knew I had electrical cords on the floor so I had to wait for the sump pump to catch up out of fear of becoming a Crispy Creme. I contemplated building an Ark but didn't know where to get 2 lemurs and 2 sloths! I had to cancel my audition.

As I checked my emails the proof did not come through for the book, and one of the venues that I had hoped to share my message with took a pass. The email I sent to the agency that booked me for the audition came back to my email. I had replied to my own message! It appeared as though I just blew it off. That's not the way I roll. I went from Mr. Sunshine, to Dr. Doom.

When I have days, like today, I always think God is testing me. If not it's the devil trying to kill my spirit. During these moments of uncertainty I have to intentionally stay positive. If I dwell in the negativity over my day I want to go for full blown destruction. I begin to question every facet of my life! Is my marriage good? Should I go to California? Maybe, Tibet! Do the kids like me? That bump on my face is not a zit. It's a tumor that's gonna kill me. Man, it becomes a three ring circus up in my melon!

I tried to put on my game face and called a couple of friends. I have been taught that if I get out of my head, and into helping someone else, I forget my problems in a jiffy. Every call I made was greeted with an answering machine recording. The volcano of self pity was about to blow like Peter Brady's did all over Marcia!

I needed fresh air. I love birds. Hawks are my favorite. I can't stand crows! As I sat looking out of my garage biting my lip, and questioning the heavens, a crow landed on my fence! He was staring right at me! Good Lord! What are you trying to tell me here?! As I feigned a panic attack, a fly the size of a humming bird flew in. I HATE FLIES IN MY HOUSE AND AT RESTAURANTS! It freaks me out.

I slammed the door shut after I got the flying pterodactyl out of my space, and sat down in a lawn chair to catch my breath. As I peered across the lawn to see the ugly crow, he was gone. At that instant a dove landed on the same spot the dark menace had just been. It began to coo. The sound of doves cooing takes me back to summers in Carlyle, Indiana when I was a kid. I would sit on the porch swing for hours in the tiny town just listening to their calls. I dialed another friend that picked up the call. I was coming down off the ledge.

My mind has such a hold on me sometimes, that I think it's the strongest organ in my body. It over takes my heart sometimes. I know it's doing it, but I let it get me anyway! I had to redirect my thinking to pleasant thoughts. I reflected on how lucky I was. My son came home with good news about a college he wants to attend. I looked at my dogs and thought about how happy they make me.

I have learned that life is not "mind over matter." It's mind over WHAT really matters!" I create my own days. No one MAKES us happy. We let them make us happy. Bad days happen. They can be just bad days. I don't have to react like I'm stuck in the steerage level of the Titanic. I just have to make it through the day. The sun will rise tomorrow. The basement will dry. The success of the book will be, or not be. I am alive and have all my needs met.

I can choose to look at the doves and smile, or focus on the crows and flies. It's all in my mind, and I can change that. If that doesn't work I can always go to bed and pray for a dry, crow and fly free day tomorrow. 

FEAR-Face Everything As Real

Fear is a powerful foe. We all have it. I think, it is the second strongest four letter word after love. When I was drinking and using, for 28 years, it ruled my life. Sometimes, it still tries to. Fear stood for "F" Everything And Run! I was afraid of success. I was obsessed with failure. I was paralyzed from reaching out to find sobriety and pursue my passions. It seemed safer to deal with my notions, than knowing the realities.

Before I got out of bed I was gripped with the FEAR of something. Was I gonna get fired? Does my wife love me? Do I love her too much? When am I going to die? Is it gonna hurt? I could conjure up fear over things that were ten years down the road, or ten years past. I was terrified of change. That is, change that I didn't like.

Facing my fears was out of the question. When I didn't feel right, I was sure I was dying. If I saw a person talking, and they looked at me, I was positive that I was the subject of their conversation. They were looking at all my faults. They could see right through me.

When I got sober and accepted the fact that my depression and racing thoughts had to be addressed, I was at a crossroads. I had dealt with it for my entire life. I did so by not dealing with it. I was convinced that if I sought treatment I would be labeled a fruit loop and tossed into the loony bin. There was no way I was going to be called a nut, even though I was going nuts.

When I finally went to see a professional, a funny thing happened. I was told I had a chemical imbalance that could be treated with a mood stabilizer. I wasn't crazy. I just had a condition that required medication, like high blood pressure. I learned that it is quite common.

After I overcame that hurdle I was convinced that my heart, liver and kidneys were shot. My grandfather died of a heart attack at age thirty nine. If I experienced a thump or pain in my chest I was positive that I was going to drop right on the spot. I was better at self diagnosing myself than any specialist in the western world! I chewed on it, day after day, hour after hour. The fear of the unknown kept me from finding out the truth. I almost died of terror at the thought of the visit!

What would Squeaky do without me? I obsessed about the POSSIBILITIES instead of seeking CERTAINTIES. It finally got to the point that SHE couldn't bare my Fred Sanford mentality any longer. "You hear that Gram? I'm coming to join you honey! I got a bum ticker from drinkin liquor!" I made the appointment and scans and tests were scheduled for enzyme analysis and a stress test. The enzyme test was just a blood test. The heart check was an ultrasound and a jog on a treadmill.

All of the tests came back clean as a whistle. After twenty eight years of self destruction I was surprised that I didn't have any battle wounds. I think blessed is more like it. I was healthy as a horse. It didn't hurt. I didn't have the Grim Reaper standing over me with a sickle. My fear was all for nothing. All those years of obsession and discomfort of wondering were pointless. Even if I had found out something was wrong, at least I WOULD KNOW!

My mother hates to go to the doctor as well. She darn near has to be stricken with the plague before she'll even consider the trip. She was diagnosed with cataracts recently. For over a year she was suffering from blurred vision, and said nothing. When she relented and sought a doctor's opinion the news was mixed. He said she would need surgery and clear vision would return. He also said if she would have waited another few months she would have lost her sight for good. She is doing great. She said colors are more vivid than she ever remembered.

We all have fears. Some are real, others are trivial. All of them can be devastating. It seems to me that our fear of knowing the truth is harder to face than the reality. I can look at my life now and realize, that in most cases, my mental picture is 100 times worse than the facts when I eventually face the problem. I am amazed at how much pain I put myself through from my thoughts!

There is another acronym for FEAR. It is Facing Everything As Real. I like that. If I would have continued down the path I was on, FEAR would have driven me to the grave! That's not living! It is being a prisoner in our own melons! Do me a favor. If you hurt somewhere go to the doctor. If you need to fix a damaged relationship, pick up the phone and fix it! If you need help ask for it! Don't be a hostage. Remember, nothing changes...if nothing changes. The only thing you have to lose is your mind!

What a Mutha!

Happy Mother's Day! I hope you all take the time to say that today to your Ma. If they are in heaven, don't worry, they just moved from their condo into your heart. If your adopted send well wishes into the cosmos.

Most, if not all of us have had issues with our Mother at some time in our lives. Some of them are real, deep seated wounds. Yet others are because we wanted things our way and had a strong woman in our world to say "NO!"

If you haven't talked to your mother in a while, today is the perfect time to do it. You may say, "after what she did, and said to me...forget it!" Family conflict is real and sometimes brutal. That's called life. Mom's are human, just like us. Why is it that we think that our folks should allow us to make mistakes, but we think they should be the ones accountable for theirs?

Without your mother you wouldn't even be thinking about their faults! Why? It's simple. YOU WOULD NOT BE....Mother's gave us life. They carried around a watermelon in their belly for nine months! Would you do the same for her?! I hope the answer is yes. They fed you when you were helpless. They clothed you and did the best mothering they could do. It may not be the way you want the picture painted. Maybe your not the way Ma wanted you to be. What's the difference?

I hope two things happen on this Mother's Day. The first is that you tell your ma you love her. The second is that you tell her "THANK YOU," for giving me life. WE don't have much time here. Eating a meal of crow is a lot easier than guilt gnawing at you for what you didn't say or do. You don't have to be right, even if you are. That's not the point. Without mothers you would be...NOWHERE! Thank GOD for their sacrifices!

Apologizing isn't admitting your wrong. It's recognizing the fact that your relationship is more important than your pride....God bless you and your Mother....To my Mom, second Mom and wife,,,thanks for being a Mutha!