thera-Peas’

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I have been seeing a therapist the last four weeks. We’ve been discussing why I have so many issues with food. Because food is the fuel that keeps us alive, this was the first issue I needed to address with him. For the majority of my life, I have been the type of person who sees food as a hassle – a waste of valuable time – a pain in my ass. I have never enjoyed the action of eating food. Very seldom have I been “excited” to sit down and eat a meal. Many times I would go most the day before realising I had not eaten anything. When my dad passed away in 2013, my issue with food became worse.

Being an addict, I often wonder if being addicted to food would be a nice change of scenery. I find that thought so far out of the realm of possibility though. Maybe not. Who knows.

My unconscious is holding the key to unlock my food issue and I am going to find it. My therapist has helped me understand some important factors that contribute to this. As a child, the majority of memories I have about food were quite terrifying to me. Weather it was the notion that I must clean off my plate before getting up from the dinner table or being forced to eat something I knew I would dislike – as a youngster, these were scary situations for me. Do my foul early memories of food contribute to today’s eating habits? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s all very interesting and I will eventually understand it more in the future.

Oh, and I chose the title because I can’t stand the taste of cooked peas. Nasty squishy bastards.

With my food issue typically being backwards from the typical food issues, does anyone else find eating to be such a burden or am I alone on this one? Any thoughts would be appreciated.

My book is finally finished!

 


I wanted to write a quick post about what has been going on over the past few months. I haven’t been consistent in posting on my blog….consistent or non-existent? Either way I haven’t posted here in a long while. Here’s what has been going on in my life-

I have stayed sober. Sobriety, or rather, the urge to use drugs has not been a problem. Of course I think about it from time to time still but there hasn’t been an emotional or psychological mind or body reaction to my thoughts. They have all been more of a “look-back” at the past. No stomach-turning roller coaster drops of drug induced fantasies. Nothing like that.

My wife and I have grown a passion and love for reptiles. We have acquired a lot of beautiful ball pythons over the past 6 months and if someone had told me that snakes each have their own personality, I would have told them they are insane. Sure enough, snakes are pure awesomeness. Some are cuddlers while others like to pretend they are a rock. “You can’t see me! I am a rock!” Some people don’t consider “being a rock” as having a personality but I have met people with far less statuesque ability. I don’t want to make this a blog about our pets so I’ll end this with a picture of our snake named Wanda.


Shifting gears a bit, I found myself hesitating on completing my memoir. My father and I started the book almost 9 years ago. We had countless meetings together trying to flesh out each other’s work, coordinating his chapter with mine; which we wrote in separate homes at seperate times by discussing important talking points. It was a large amount of work but at least we were in it together. After my father passed away I felt extremely lost. I felt lost because I knew I would never be able to talk to my father but I also felt lost with the book project. It was so close to completion. I did have our editor’s help and my family members, but it still made me feel empty and alone. The project seemed to lose its meaning in a way. I felt we had built a special bond during his last years here. Maybe realizing that my dad did all that work to never get to see it completed made me feel that pain. I don’t know exactly why it became so difficult to finish. We had so many great discussions about what it would be like to have seen the book completely done, bound, and in our hand.

I finally finished the book. Despite what my false self was yelling in my ear. I knew it was mostly lies and fear. I can’t blame the fear. After all, My memoir don’t paint me as a shining moral hero. I titled the book – A Walk in His Shoes.  It released on Amazon and Kindle on December 3.

I will write a more thorough post this weekend detailing more of what has been going on. If anyone is still interested in reading my memoir, you can get it as a hardcopy or as an ebook. If you are wanting to read it but don’t have the funds to purchase the book, let me know and we can work out a trade. Thanks everyone!

Hard copy—>  CLICK HERE!

Ebook——-> CLICK HERE!

A Walk in His Shoes

Facebook page—> CLICK HERE!

On the Facebook page, I am giving a free signed copy of the book away on the most recent Facebook post. If you are interested in winning a signed copy of the book, click the Facebook link above. Thanks everyone!


			

Drug Dreams and Buck teeth Unicorns

photo courtesy of creepypasta.wikia.com

photo courtesy of creepypasta.wikia.com

Last night I had a nightmare. My neck and chest was soaking wet and beads of sweat were running down my forehead. My upper body was ice-cold from being outside the blanket and the sheets underneath me were damp and cold. I woke in a panic, trying to make sense of what was going on. Trying to figure out where I was. I was in my own bed of course but 45 seconds prior I was shooting up heroin with my wife in my drug dealers shabby basement apartment. Paraphernalia strewn all over the bedroom- used syringes covering the top of his rickety nightstand. A puke-green ragged blanket masquerading as a curtain but failing miserably as the sun ripped through the massive hole in the middle. Their were no lightbulbs in the ceiling fixture but that didn’t seem unusual in a place like that. The hole in the blanket allowed the sun to shine a perfect beam of light into the room that lit up a small statue of a unicorn that had huge buck teeth. Like the donkey from Shrek, only not a donkey. The statue was out-of-place and I remember looking at it going “what the f#$k? Why does my drug dealer have a buck tooth unicorn?”

My wife didn’t notice the unicorn but I could tell she was disgusted at all the paraphernalia scattered about. I wanted to get her out of there but when I turned around to walk out, the door had turned into a wall.

I was so upset and angry at myself because I knew it had to be mostly my fault that my wife was now using too. She has never even smoked weed so the fact that she was shooting heroin all the sudden meant that I had persuaded her at some point. Why would I do something so vile? I thought. This must be a bad dream.

Seeing us that way was so vile and disgusting. In a way, I am glad I had that dream. That will never be an option for us in reality and the thought of it makes me nauseous. I wanted to share my dream before I forgot what happened. Thanks for reading.

hope for 2015

Originally posted on AFTER THE POP

AFTER THE POP !

On life's journey  Faith is nourishment,  Virtuous deeds are a shelter,  Wisdom is the light by day and  Right mindfulness is the protection by night.  If a man lives a pure life nothing can destroy him;  If he has conquered greed nothing can limit his freedom.  Buddha On life’s journey
Faith is nourishment,
Virtuous deeds are a shelter,
Wisdom is the light by day and
Right mindfulness is the protection by night.
If a man lives a pure life nothing can destroy him;
If he has conquered greed nothing can limit his freedom.
Buddha

there is a surge of anticipation bubbling up around me these days. the new work gig actually starts on monday in the new location and my daily commute begins. can’t say exactly what will happen, but i am definitely interested.

this has been a sweetly strange and delicious month for me. after leaving the employ of an miranda priestly wannabe in october and bracing through 3 1/2 weeks of sinusitus and situational depression followed by a gesture of faith mixed with fear by taking a managerial position and filling my calendar with holiday parties to fill in the financial gaps created by righteous…

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‘Twas The Night Before Christmas – Blog Edition

Reblogged on My Sober Life

polysyllabic profundities

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the blogs
Edward Hotspur had his bacon, Angie’s Grapevine had her dogs.
The synonyms were used by Honie Briggs with care,
And Conscious Cacophony, her feelings she would share.

Short Stories was nestled, all snug amongst his words,
While Sethsnap had artistic visions and took pictures of the birds.
Sage Doyle was getting poetic, authoring memorable scenes,
While Drinking Tips was creating, snacking on Poutine.

JannaTWrites newest blog had created such a clatter,
And Moderate Mama’s  comments only added to the chatter.
Away to the keyboard The Daily Post flew on its quest,
Tore open the gates of creativity and posted its newest contest.

The Modern Philosopher, his brilliance did show,
And masterful words from Dianne Gray, were shared from below. (well, Down Under, but it didn’t rhyme)
When, what to YarnSpinner’s eyes should appear,
Ned’s Blog, in all its glory, showing no WordPress…

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It Has Been A While…This Blog is sorta Holiday Oriented?

Originally posted on my mothers blog. Her reflection of the holidays without my father.

Kris John

This has been my second set of Holidays without my favorite guy. I have missed two Halloweens, two Thanksgivings, and now it will be two Christmas Seasons.

The photo below was taken several years ago, when everything was peaches and roses, at least from my point of view now, it was one of our better times together.

Me and my awesome Squeeze....Me and my Awesome Squeeze Dallas

I have put up Christmas lights again this season, and I put up a little bit more – well a lot more than last year, as I sometimes feel like I need to do this for the kids and grand kids. Even though I know my electrical box is spinning so fast with the lights on, that it becomes a blur. I am almost afraid to get the bill in January! Being on a fixed small income, I have to be very careful.

In choosing to…

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