Humbling commitment…

I spoke tonight at a nearby treatment center. Cornerstone is a pretty hardcore place. It is pretty much the last hope for many people. Most of the residents are African-American, right off the streets. Old, young, male, female–they are all there. It must be a culture shock to be suddenly transplanted in the middle of Dutchess county with no street noise or lights, or any other urban aspect to cling to while they sober up. In some ways it was very intimidating, but that’s good for me. It helps keep me sober by sharing my story with these folks, and in the end we are all the same, just a bunch of ex-junkies and alcoholics in recovery working on our programs and trying to live with our new sanities.

I sometimes feel out of place in facilities like these. My story doesn’t include abject poverty, multiple trips to jails and rehabs, narcotics, racial prejudice, and so forth. It does include trying to fit in and doing anything to do so, feeling empty and alone, arrogant and terrified, helpless and hopeless, and crying for help with an empty voice. These are things we all can share.

They thanked me for sharing…shook my hand. All I could say was ‘thank you’.

I left feeling grateful, sober, sane and humble.

Johnnyboy

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Johnnyboy

Johnnyboy is a queer recovering alcoholic. For the moment he is also the primary caregiver for his mother, who suffers from age-related cognitive impairment. She is happy as a lark and is surrounded by a crew of sober women which gives him the freedom he needs to get out of town. When he is not at home in Somewheresville, he is searching out the proper path to travel for happiness and joy. He is a photographer who believes in the digital age, but feels that film is still where its at. He has a darkroom and works in it. He is single and is in remarkably great physical condition for all the damage he has submitted his body to. His cardiologist is very happy. Johnnyboy is over the age of 35.