What a difference…

I woke up this morning after sleeping all night. Amazing. I didn’t wake up at 4AM, or any other such scenario. I still plan on picking up my car today and driving it home, dodging the raindrops along the way. I checked the weather and it’s supposed to be cloudy all day and a 50% chance of rain this afternoon. Those are odds with which I can gamble. The other thing is that I really don’t want to leave my car where it is. It’s in the same town where I used to live and where I hit my emotional, physical, spiritual, and legal, bottoms, so I am very wary to have too close a connection there outside of my recovery. So in a couple of hours my mother, the saint, will drive me to the garage and I’ll pay $80 to the guy for his labor, hit a meeting, chat with friends, and hightail it home, about 25 miles. Cross your fingers.

All of the above is an example of how I must have control over my life. Having my car 25 miles away doesn’t feel safe, so I must have it in the driveway. Whether I drive it or not within the next 6 days will be a total crapshoot, but having the car at home is my first priority. It just feels wrong not having my car. I feel like the guys at jail will know who I am, what I did years ago and will want to vandalize my vehicle in a sneaky way, like spraying WD-40 on the brake discs or something. This is all ego. No one knows who I am, no one remembers, and no one cares. I have since discovered that most people are self-centered to the point that if the news of the day doesn’t directly effect them, they gloss over the facts and go straight to the comics and the horoscope. Notice I said “most”, not “all”.

My level of paranoia over my past can get pretty heavy sometimes. I panic whenever I see someone in a uniform or any kind of official vehicle. My shrink thinks that this is a response to being in jail for 19 months. PTSD. I tend to agree. It’s sometimes funny, though, to panic over a uniformed person seen from a distance only to get near enough to see that they are a plumber or something. I guess it’s not really funny. I’d like to laugh about the whole thing someday, but I don’t see that happening. So for the time being, I’ll sneak looks at police cruisers in my rearview mirror, certain that they are going to turn around and give chase; know that when the phone rings, and no one is on the line, that ‘they’ are just checking to make sure I’m at home; and make sure I check my brakes before I leave the garage…Just in case.

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.