My sleep schedule is still in the process of adjusting to a lifestyle in which it’s regularly needed. I often take long naps in the middle of the morning and wake up hours before the sun rises. In time I’m sure this will normalize but in the interim I have to be prepared for the occasional narcoleptic episode.
I recently started going through the rest of Trazadone prescription I got before leaving Seattle. Back in August my doctor had put me on it in hopes that establishing a standardized sleep cycle it would also help to alleviate much of the anxiety I was experiencing. It was a huge help to me during my previous attempt at sobriety, I can’t help but wonder if It might have lasted longer if I had continued taking the medication.
I often find myself in mental wrestling matches involving “what if”. I know that there is absolutely no value in hypothetical hindsight, but I haven’t figured out a means by which to identify it early enough to catch myself. I’ve usually beat myself up for a good ten minutes before I recognize what’s going on and then I experience feelings of guilt at not having prevented the original regret from leading to further self deprecation.
I often find myself in mental wrestling matches involving “what if”. I know that there is absolutely no value in hypothetical hindsight, but I haven’t figured out a means by which to identify it early enough to catch myself. I’ve usually beat myself up for a good ten minutes before I recognize what’s going on and then I experience feelings of guilt at not having prevented the original regret from leading to further self deprecation.
Being inside my head can be exhausting.
Last Friday this pitfall was only exasperated by the fact that I didn’t have any cigarettes. It is stillmy desire to quit smoking, however everyone I’ve mentioned it to has warned me not to take on too much at once, something I have a habit of doing. That day I only smoked two cigarettes throughout the entire day and it made me want to jam a needle in my arm.
So Saturday I decided to take the emphatic zeal I’d once applied to finding my next point and use it instead to scrounge up the money to buy a pack of cigarettes. It turned out to be much easier than I thought it might be. The previous evening, while I was getting ready to punch a hole in my head, I decided to take a risk and I texted Not Really David. NRD was my primary supplier and I knew that he’d have some disposable income that could afford me what I was looking for..
While I think he misses having a buddy who’s always up for shots, it also seems he wants me to succeed. I’ve run into him a couple of times in the last two weeks. Each time I’ve seen him he inquires as to the state of my sobriety and makes a point to tell me he doesn’t believe me. You can almost see a smile of approval on his face though as I reassure him and recite the day. I’m sure part of this exchange is because he always likes to get me worked up and at this point questioning my resolve is the best way to do that. He always then makes it very clear that if I wanted to do a shot all I had to do was ask for one but it’s in such a way that he never offers me one.
These kind of exchanges are common place between the two of us. Despite our similarities there has always been a tremendous amount of tension between us. I’m sure it’s sexual in nature, but early on Tina decided the two of us were meant to have sex. As such our relationship has always existed in strange state of conflict It took us breaking up before we could be friends and we never even dated.
My request was quite simple, I wanted money. Now you may have this idea in your head that all drug dealers are soulless people who are out to bleed you for every last penny you have and then kick you to the curb begging for me. This rarely the truth. Theirs is a sales job and just like with any other customer service matter.
Dealers don’t fit the stereotype that you’re probably familiar with, mostly because addicts aren’t what you’ve come to expect either. There is this image of every addict being a strung out maniac who would stab his own mother for a hit. While there is the rare instance where this is the case it usually has more to do with the underlying mental illness that led to their addiction in the first place than it does the drugs.
Real users are everyday day people like you see at the post office or supermarket and they come from every social and economic class you can imagine. I’ve slammed with upper management types who live in multi-million dollar homes, intellectuals from prestigious walks of academia and blue collar union types who punch the clock every day with the rest of the longshoremen. I don’t think I’ve ever done drugs with anyone who would fit the image you see on the evening news, but I might have with the flight attendant on your next trip to Houston.
The image of the dope fiend only plays out in extreme cases, which I unfortunately bordered upon in the end. For the first two years that I had been using again many of those around me didn’t even know it was happening. I went to work everyday and attended social functions like nothing had changed. I could be smoking meth at 6 am and having breakfast with my niece at 7. The truth in that statement breaks my heart.
There are a myriad of reason that someone makes the final plunge into depravity. It could be an unexpected breakup, being overburdened at work, difficult times at home, etc. For me it was all of those things and then some.
It was 7:30 in the morning when I texted NRD. I had no reason to believe he was asleep. Late night party sessions usually wrapped up around that time so if anything it was the perfect time to catch him between tricks. Turns out that I was an hour early for the transition which worked out well as it gave me time to shower and get myself ready for the day.
NRD was about to have breakfast with an old customer of mine, Jim. I never considered myself a dealer but there were a handful of people I would help out. They were all guys that were also fairly new to the island that didn’t have any connections and I enjoyed hooking up with. Given the ridiculous amount it took for me to get high I also got volume pricing most people didn’t think possible on Oahu, so the markup on a single transaction was usually enough to cover my own habit for a day or more.
I was a little reluctant to walk into a situation with two people I really enjoyed partying with so early in my sobriety. I also knew these situations were destined to happen at some point. As soon as the meeting was confirmed I stood in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror. I did this for five minutes or longer repeating the words, “Don’t blink.”
NRD and Jim both lived in the same building near the marina, Discovery Bay, in the most densely populated part of Waikiki. It’s not even a mile from where I’m staying and a rather pleasant walk, especially on a sunny Saturday morning. I walked down Atkinson with the sun at my back singing aloud the whole way.
D-Bay, as it’s affectionately known, is a controlled access building so NRD met me in the lobby. The scene up at Jim’s was lazy and mundane, as you were likely to find in any living room in Hawaii given the hour. He’d just finished up breakfast and was watching college basketball, dressed very appropriately for the occasion. I did not realize that my appearance was going to be unannounced, but I should have guessed as much as NRD has a way of springing me upon people.
We exchanged pleasantries and I took a seat on the couch. Every other time I’d sat on his couch I would pick the middle seat and each time I would nearly be swallowed into the abyss opened up from a section of springs missing. I didn’t even have to catch myself before making the mistake, I instinctively chose the end seat and upon noticing smiled to myself.
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to make it through the encounter without temptation and I was right. NRD said he wanted to show off a shard to Jim, but I think he also wanted to take advantage of the chance to test my commitment. He pulled out a single rock weighing nearly half an ounce. Even from a distance I could see that it was impressive, not just in size, but quality of product.
Two weeks before I’d have been drooling over the sight of it, pressing to shatter it into a dis-solvable powder as soon as possible. Our typical back and forth of, “Do we get to slam it?” “Would you like to slam it?” “Well if by slam you mean inject it into the biggest vein I can find, then yes, I’d like very much to slam it.”, would have ensured.
Today was a different day though and I was a different person. Instead after taking a look I went back to watching the television and occasionally turning to steal a look at Jim’s ass. At one point NRD gave me a look as if to say, “don’t you want to touch it?” To which I just smiled, shot my eyes Jim’s crotch and raised my eyebrows suggestively. We both started to laugh hysterically, leaving Jim confused and fully aware that he missed something but unsure what.
It wasn’t everyday that Jim would be home at this hour. He came to Hawaii for work and usually was putting in 10 hours days six days a week. While talking about plans for the day we realized we both had the same idea.
Last Friday this pitfall was only exasperated by the fact that I didn’t have any cigarettes. It is stillmy desire to quit smoking, however everyone I’ve mentioned it to has warned me not to take on too much at once, something I have a habit of doing. That day I only smoked two cigarettes throughout the entire day and it made me want to jam a needle in my arm.
So Saturday I decided to take the emphatic zeal I’d once applied to finding my next point and use it instead to scrounge up the money to buy a pack of cigarettes. It turned out to be much easier than I thought it might be. The previous evening, while I was getting ready to punch a hole in my head, I decided to take a risk and I texted Not Really David. NRD was my primary supplier and I knew that he’d have some disposable income that could afford me what I was looking for..
While I think he misses having a buddy who’s always up for shots, it also seems he wants me to succeed. I’ve run into him a couple of times in the last two weeks. Each time I’ve seen him he inquires as to the state of my sobriety and makes a point to tell me he doesn’t believe me. You can almost see a smile of approval on his face though as I reassure him and recite the day. I’m sure part of this exchange is because he always likes to get me worked up and at this point questioning my resolve is the best way to do that. He always then makes it very clear that if I wanted to do a shot all I had to do was ask for one but it’s in such a way that he never offers me one.
These kind of exchanges are common place between the two of us. Despite our similarities there has always been a tremendous amount of tension between us. I’m sure it’s sexual in nature, but early on Tina decided the two of us were meant to have sex. As such our relationship has always existed in strange state of conflict It took us breaking up before we could be friends and we never even dated.
My request was quite simple, I wanted money. Now you may have this idea in your head that all drug dealers are soulless people who are out to bleed you for every last penny you have and then kick you to the curb begging for me. This rarely the truth. Theirs is a sales job and just like with any other customer service matter.
Dealers don’t fit the stereotype that you’re probably familiar with, mostly because addicts aren’t what you’ve come to expect either. There is this image of every addict being a strung out maniac who would stab his own mother for a hit. While there is the rare instance where this is the case it usually has more to do with the underlying mental illness that led to their addiction in the first place than it does the drugs.
Real users are everyday day people like you see at the post office or supermarket and they come from every social and economic class you can imagine. I’ve slammed with upper management types who live in multi-million dollar homes, intellectuals from prestigious walks of academia and blue collar union types who punch the clock every day with the rest of the longshoremen. I don’t think I’ve ever done drugs with anyone who would fit the image you see on the evening news, but I might have with the flight attendant on your next trip to Houston.
The image of the dope fiend only plays out in extreme cases, which I unfortunately bordered upon in the end. For the first two years that I had been using again many of those around me didn’t even know it was happening. I went to work everyday and attended social functions like nothing had changed. I could be smoking meth at 6 am and having breakfast with my niece at 7. The truth in that statement breaks my heart.
There are a myriad of reason that someone makes the final plunge into depravity. It could be an unexpected breakup, being overburdened at work, difficult times at home, etc. For me it was all of those things and then some.
It was 7:30 in the morning when I texted NRD. I had no reason to believe he was asleep. Late night party sessions usually wrapped up around that time so if anything it was the perfect time to catch him between tricks. Turns out that I was an hour early for the transition which worked out well as it gave me time to shower and get myself ready for the day.
NRD was about to have breakfast with an old customer of mine, Jim. I never considered myself a dealer but there were a handful of people I would help out. They were all guys that were also fairly new to the island that didn’t have any connections and I enjoyed hooking up with. Given the ridiculous amount it took for me to get high I also got volume pricing most people didn’t think possible on Oahu, so the markup on a single transaction was usually enough to cover my own habit for a day or more.
I was a little reluctant to walk into a situation with two people I really enjoyed partying with so early in my sobriety. I also knew these situations were destined to happen at some point. As soon as the meeting was confirmed I stood in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror. I did this for five minutes or longer repeating the words, “Don’t blink.”
NRD and Jim both lived in the same building near the marina, Discovery Bay, in the most densely populated part of Waikiki. It’s not even a mile from where I’m staying and a rather pleasant walk, especially on a sunny Saturday morning. I walked down Atkinson with the sun at my back singing aloud the whole way.
D-Bay, as it’s affectionately known, is a controlled access building so NRD met me in the lobby. The scene up at Jim’s was lazy and mundane, as you were likely to find in any living room in Hawaii given the hour. He’d just finished up breakfast and was watching college basketball, dressed very appropriately for the occasion. I did not realize that my appearance was going to be unannounced, but I should have guessed as much as NRD has a way of springing me upon people.
We exchanged pleasantries and I took a seat on the couch. Every other time I’d sat on his couch I would pick the middle seat and each time I would nearly be swallowed into the abyss opened up from a section of springs missing. I didn’t even have to catch myself before making the mistake, I instinctively chose the end seat and upon noticing smiled to myself.
I had a feeling I wasn’t going to make it through the encounter without temptation and I was right. NRD said he wanted to show off a shard to Jim, but I think he also wanted to take advantage of the chance to test my commitment. He pulled out a single rock weighing nearly half an ounce. Even from a distance I could see that it was impressive, not just in size, but quality of product.
Two weeks before I’d have been drooling over the sight of it, pressing to shatter it into a dis-solvable powder as soon as possible. Our typical back and forth of, “Do we get to slam it?” “Would you like to slam it?” “Well if by slam you mean inject it into the biggest vein I can find, then yes, I’d like very much to slam it.”, would have ensured.
Today was a different day though and I was a different person. Instead after taking a look I went back to watching the television and occasionally turning to steal a look at Jim’s ass. At one point NRD gave me a look as if to say, “don’t you want to touch it?” To which I just smiled, shot my eyes Jim’s crotch and raised my eyebrows suggestively. We both started to laugh hysterically, leaving Jim confused and fully aware that he missed something but unsure what.
It wasn’t everyday that Jim would be home at this hour. He came to Hawaii for work and usually was putting in 10 hours days six days a week. While talking about plans for the day we realized we both had the same idea.
“What are you doing with your day?”
I was going to head down to Magic Island, soak up some sun.
“Cool. I’ve got the car so I think I might make my way up to the North Shore.”
Still haven’t made it up there myself.
“Well you should come. It’s my favorite part of the island.”
Hmmmm, I’ll have to think about that, Give me a call before you head out.
I was torn about the prospect. My determination was running strong but I didn’t want to press my luck. I know that it’s only a matter of time before that voice in the back of my head decides to pipe up again and convince me that I’ve got things under control, it’ll be okay if I just do it once.
On the other hand, every time I’ve tried to quit the most difficult thing for me is walking away from the good people that I’ve met. I don’t think anyone really wants to be using on a daily basis but it gets to a point where you keep doing it simply because all the people you associate with are doing it. I found this to be especially true being in a place where you don’t know a lot people.
When things started to deteriorate back in Seattle and I knew that I was going to need some kind of professional help I began a process of self assessment. I didn’t want to go as far as to self diagnose the problems I was facing, but if I was going to get help I would at least need an idea of where I wanted to start. This can be an intimidating endeavor when every aspect of your life is falling apart, but came up with a list of key points:
On the other hand, every time I’ve tried to quit the most difficult thing for me is walking away from the good people that I’ve met. I don’t think anyone really wants to be using on a daily basis but it gets to a point where you keep doing it simply because all the people you associate with are doing it. I found this to be especially true being in a place where you don’t know a lot people.
When things started to deteriorate back in Seattle and I knew that I was going to need some kind of professional help I began a process of self assessment. I didn’t want to go as far as to self diagnose the problems I was facing, but if I was going to get help I would at least need an idea of where I wanted to start. This can be an intimidating endeavor when every aspect of your life is falling apart, but came up with a list of key points:
Psychological Flaws
- Abandonment
- Lack of place/home
- Putting others before myself
- Addiction
- Hatred of God
- Identity Crisis
It is no mistake that I list abandonment above all else. I would now change that to include corresponding rejection as a sub-note. I am now starting to understand how all the other issues I have listed there all stem from the same source. I’ve been able to trace it all back to a single day, when I was 10.
My parents had been in the process of dissolving their marriage for a few years by this point. After a few years away my dad had moved back into my house, while my mom moved into an apartment in Mountlake Terrace. The original agreement called for my sister to live with my mother and my brother and I would be with my dad. There was then alternating weekends arranged in such a way that all three of us kids would be together for two days a week.
My sister had just started middle school and as you can imagine wanted nothing to do with her little brothers poking around her personal life. Of course we did it anyway, but it always go to a point where we would have to take a break. Being an obnoxious little punk can be exhausting.
This was the case on one particular evening so my mom brought us over to her boyfriend's house. Dave was a slightly older man, who loved HAM radio, bowling and drinking as I remember him. He was short and to say he had a complex about it would be an understatement. Even at the age of ten I was already taller than he was, which created a very tense relationship between us, not to mention he’s the guy that she chose to replace my dad.
I don’t remember exactly how the argument started. In some how I had disrespected his home and thereby him, I think it involved playing darts. However what I did quickly became irrelevant compared to the manner in which it was handled.
I remember being asked to apologize, which I refused. I didn’t feel that I was in the wrong, though I’m sure I was. Even as a child I had a way of manipulating other people into telling me what I wanted to know without having to ask them. Actions are a much better indicator than words could ever be. I wanted to know where I stood in comparison with this new man in my mother's life. When everything was done I was left with no doubt as to my position.
The situation escalated rapidly. There was shouting and anger permeating from everything in the small house but centralized on me and from me. There was not a single point in which she didn’t side with him and my continued defiance only served to fuel his rage that was being unleashed upon me through her.
This went on for some time before she finally said the words I’ll never forget: "Get out. Leave. You’re no longer welcome here. Go."
So I left.
I had never spent any time in Snohomish county outside of visiting family members there. I had only a limited understanding of where I even was. Luckily I’ve always had a keen sense of direction and was confident that I could find my way back to my mom’s apartment. I knew my sister didn’t want me there, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
I can still remember walking along those streets. Tears were dripping down my face as I pieced together my knowledge of the local geography. Every road had the same desolate appearance. In every house I could see myself reliving the argument I just had. In every doorway there I was being told the same two words, “Get out”.
It was only about a mile but it took me almost an hour to get there. When I got there my sister was waiting for me. My mother had called ahead to inform her that under no circumstances was I to be allowed in the apartment. I was not only unwelcome in her boyfriend's home, but I was banned from entering anywhere she had the power to authority to do so.
Despite knowing exactly where I would go, my mother remained right where she was. She made no effort to come find me as I walked. She didn’t go back to her apartment to wait for me herself. She didn’t just want me gone from her sight. She wanted to ignore that I even existed, and so she did.
The idea that my sister would bar me entry is just absurd. Rebecca has always lived as an ambassador of Aloha and Ohana. These are ideals she didn’t have to be taught, as they were so deeply instilled in the nature that she was born their teacher. With the subtlety of a guru far beyond her years, she has been able to guide me more by her actions than her words.
Six years later I would be placed with a similar decision. My brothers teenage years were tumultuous to put it mildly. While I tried to hide my anger, he let it consume him and express itself whenever it wanted. In one of these eruption he had threatened physical violence upon the majority of our household which resulted in his expulsion.
He didn’t have anywhere to go. He crashed at friends when he could but no one would take him in officially. Details of this were revealed when we had a chance encounter in the neighborhood and I found them entirely unacceptable. So I told him that if on any given night he didn’t have a place to stay to come to the house. He would have to sneak around to the backyard and come to my bedroom door, it would be unlocked.
He wasn’t allowed to bring anyone, or really even speak while he was there. He understood that I was directly defying what I was told. No one could know that he was there. If any lights were on upstairs he had to wait and come back once they’d all gone to sleep and be gone before anyone woke up the next morning.
My sister taught me that as long as I have a place to be, so do my siblings, even if their presence would jeopardize my own position. As I would mimic later, she acted without concern for the punishment. She did what she thought was right and to this day she continues to implement this single principle above all others.
This is why I struggle breaking ties with the people who are decidedly unhealthy for me. If I could carry the weight of the world so no one else had to bear it’s burden I would. It’s that attitude that probably got me into this position. Still, I refuse to abandon anyone, especially those who have already been marginalized by the rest of society.
What I am started learn though is that I’m useless when I fall into the same trap they’re caught in. I’m hoping that this is where asking for help will make all the difference. Historically I’m not very good at asking for help though. NDR and I had a conversation along these lines,
“You’re going to have to ask people for help.”
You’re one to talk. Your whole mantra is ‘I, alone’
“Yeah, when I’m using it is. When I decide to get clean, I use every resource that is available to me. You’re going to have to reach out to your friends, your family, charitable organizations, even total strangers. It’s impossible to do it alone.”
I’m not good at that.
“Then learn, and learn fast. If you don’t figure out how to ask people for help you’re never getting out. It isn’t easy. You could have everyone on the planet helping you and it’s still going to be the most painful thing you can ever go through.”
How do you decide when to get clean?
“...I just know it’s time.”
Is it time now?
My parents had been in the process of dissolving their marriage for a few years by this point. After a few years away my dad had moved back into my house, while my mom moved into an apartment in Mountlake Terrace. The original agreement called for my sister to live with my mother and my brother and I would be with my dad. There was then alternating weekends arranged in such a way that all three of us kids would be together for two days a week.
My sister had just started middle school and as you can imagine wanted nothing to do with her little brothers poking around her personal life. Of course we did it anyway, but it always go to a point where we would have to take a break. Being an obnoxious little punk can be exhausting.
This was the case on one particular evening so my mom brought us over to her boyfriend's house. Dave was a slightly older man, who loved HAM radio, bowling and drinking as I remember him. He was short and to say he had a complex about it would be an understatement. Even at the age of ten I was already taller than he was, which created a very tense relationship between us, not to mention he’s the guy that she chose to replace my dad.
I don’t remember exactly how the argument started. In some how I had disrespected his home and thereby him, I think it involved playing darts. However what I did quickly became irrelevant compared to the manner in which it was handled.
I remember being asked to apologize, which I refused. I didn’t feel that I was in the wrong, though I’m sure I was. Even as a child I had a way of manipulating other people into telling me what I wanted to know without having to ask them. Actions are a much better indicator than words could ever be. I wanted to know where I stood in comparison with this new man in my mother's life. When everything was done I was left with no doubt as to my position.
The situation escalated rapidly. There was shouting and anger permeating from everything in the small house but centralized on me and from me. There was not a single point in which she didn’t side with him and my continued defiance only served to fuel his rage that was being unleashed upon me through her.
This went on for some time before she finally said the words I’ll never forget: "Get out. Leave. You’re no longer welcome here. Go."
So I left.
I had never spent any time in Snohomish county outside of visiting family members there. I had only a limited understanding of where I even was. Luckily I’ve always had a keen sense of direction and was confident that I could find my way back to my mom’s apartment. I knew my sister didn’t want me there, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
I can still remember walking along those streets. Tears were dripping down my face as I pieced together my knowledge of the local geography. Every road had the same desolate appearance. In every house I could see myself reliving the argument I just had. In every doorway there I was being told the same two words, “Get out”.
It was only about a mile but it took me almost an hour to get there. When I got there my sister was waiting for me. My mother had called ahead to inform her that under no circumstances was I to be allowed in the apartment. I was not only unwelcome in her boyfriend's home, but I was banned from entering anywhere she had the power to authority to do so.
Despite knowing exactly where I would go, my mother remained right where she was. She made no effort to come find me as I walked. She didn’t go back to her apartment to wait for me herself. She didn’t just want me gone from her sight. She wanted to ignore that I even existed, and so she did.
The idea that my sister would bar me entry is just absurd. Rebecca has always lived as an ambassador of Aloha and Ohana. These are ideals she didn’t have to be taught, as they were so deeply instilled in the nature that she was born their teacher. With the subtlety of a guru far beyond her years, she has been able to guide me more by her actions than her words.
Six years later I would be placed with a similar decision. My brothers teenage years were tumultuous to put it mildly. While I tried to hide my anger, he let it consume him and express itself whenever it wanted. In one of these eruption he had threatened physical violence upon the majority of our household which resulted in his expulsion.
He didn’t have anywhere to go. He crashed at friends when he could but no one would take him in officially. Details of this were revealed when we had a chance encounter in the neighborhood and I found them entirely unacceptable. So I told him that if on any given night he didn’t have a place to stay to come to the house. He would have to sneak around to the backyard and come to my bedroom door, it would be unlocked.
He wasn’t allowed to bring anyone, or really even speak while he was there. He understood that I was directly defying what I was told. No one could know that he was there. If any lights were on upstairs he had to wait and come back once they’d all gone to sleep and be gone before anyone woke up the next morning.
My sister taught me that as long as I have a place to be, so do my siblings, even if their presence would jeopardize my own position. As I would mimic later, she acted without concern for the punishment. She did what she thought was right and to this day she continues to implement this single principle above all others.
This is why I struggle breaking ties with the people who are decidedly unhealthy for me. If I could carry the weight of the world so no one else had to bear it’s burden I would. It’s that attitude that probably got me into this position. Still, I refuse to abandon anyone, especially those who have already been marginalized by the rest of society.
What I am started learn though is that I’m useless when I fall into the same trap they’re caught in. I’m hoping that this is where asking for help will make all the difference. Historically I’m not very good at asking for help though. NDR and I had a conversation along these lines,
“You’re going to have to ask people for help.”
You’re one to talk. Your whole mantra is ‘I, alone’
“Yeah, when I’m using it is. When I decide to get clean, I use every resource that is available to me. You’re going to have to reach out to your friends, your family, charitable organizations, even total strangers. It’s impossible to do it alone.”
I’m not good at that.
“Then learn, and learn fast. If you don’t figure out how to ask people for help you’re never getting out. It isn’t easy. You could have everyone on the planet helping you and it’s still going to be the most painful thing you can ever go through.”
How do you decide when to get clean?
“...I just know it’s time.”
Is it time now?
“No. I’m not even close. I don’t think you are either. You can deny it all you want, but you’re still running.”
I don’t see it. How am I still running?
“I could tell you, but if you really want this to work you’re going to have to figure it out yourself.”
I don’t see it. How am I still running?
“I could tell you, but if you really want this to work you’re going to have to figure it out yourself.”
When Jim called I had already started packing my bag for the beach. I’d decided I had to go to the beach either way, to have a discussion with the ocean. If he called our conversation would take place on the North Shore, if not it would be Kaka’ako. Being as the face I wanted to speak with most was over 2000 miles away, it didn’t really matter where we spoke.
It was just after noon that Jim showed up driving a Chevy Malibu. He informed me that we needed to make a stop at a tanning bed for about twenty minutes. I couldn’t help but laugh as I never would have guessed him the type to go tanning.
The salon was next door to a Starbucks so I dipped in to get a coffee and do some writing to pass the time. It seems an easy target to joke about the people who go to Starbucks with their laptop to write. You can insert whichever quip gives you a hearty chuckle here.
The island of Oahu is not very big at all. You can drive around the entire thing in four hours. In understanding that quantification you also need to know that it takes 90 minutes to get from Waikiki to the North Shore, this is a distance of about 30 miles. Nothing here moves too fast.
I was afraid that the car ride would be painfully awkward. We had never spent a whole lot of time together outside of criminal activities and had no idea what to really expect. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we actually have a lot in common.
As soon as we started out Postal Service started streaming to the car stereo from his phone. I had never really been a fan of them or Death Cab for Cutie until about two weeks prior and had really started to enjoy them. Apparently it just wasn’t my time to appreciate them until now.
We spent a good while talking about music. We shared nearly identical tastes which led to a back and forth about concerts we’d seen, first impressions of different albums and emotional attachments we have to certain songs. In Hawaii this would be referred to as “talking story”.
One topic then blended beautifully into the next. It was one of the better conversations I’ve had since I landed here. Even when there was the inevitable lull it never felt uncomfortable or like someone needed to force the next topic.
As we got closer to our destination I realized that I had no idea what we were going to do. The North Shore is more of a region than a single destination. I was asked where I wanted to go first to which I replied with a blank stare.
It was just after noon that Jim showed up driving a Chevy Malibu. He informed me that we needed to make a stop at a tanning bed for about twenty minutes. I couldn’t help but laugh as I never would have guessed him the type to go tanning.
The salon was next door to a Starbucks so I dipped in to get a coffee and do some writing to pass the time. It seems an easy target to joke about the people who go to Starbucks with their laptop to write. You can insert whichever quip gives you a hearty chuckle here.
The island of Oahu is not very big at all. You can drive around the entire thing in four hours. In understanding that quantification you also need to know that it takes 90 minutes to get from Waikiki to the North Shore, this is a distance of about 30 miles. Nothing here moves too fast.
I was afraid that the car ride would be painfully awkward. We had never spent a whole lot of time together outside of criminal activities and had no idea what to really expect. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we actually have a lot in common.
As soon as we started out Postal Service started streaming to the car stereo from his phone. I had never really been a fan of them or Death Cab for Cutie until about two weeks prior and had really started to enjoy them. Apparently it just wasn’t my time to appreciate them until now.
We spent a good while talking about music. We shared nearly identical tastes which led to a back and forth about concerts we’d seen, first impressions of different albums and emotional attachments we have to certain songs. In Hawaii this would be referred to as “talking story”.
One topic then blended beautifully into the next. It was one of the better conversations I’ve had since I landed here. Even when there was the inevitable lull it never felt uncomfortable or like someone needed to force the next topic.
As we got closer to our destination I realized that I had no idea what we were going to do. The North Shore is more of a region than a single destination. I was asked where I wanted to go first to which I replied with a blank stare.
“Oh yeah, you said you’ve never been before right?”
Nope.
“Okay, well we can do Pipeline first, that’s where you hear about all the big surf. Then we’ll go to Hale’iva, that’s where I want to live. Actually anywhere out here would work for me. It’s the best place on the island.”
Cool.
“Actually, no. We’re going to start with the botanical gardens. I don’t know if that’s your kind of thing. I love that place. I could live there if they’d let me. It’s a bit of a walk but we can go back to the falls. It costs like $10, but don’t worry I’ve got you covered. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s a special place.”
Thanks, that’s awesome.
“Hold your praise man. Wait til you see it. It’s going to blow you away.”
The price had doubled since his last visit, but I was able to get a discounted rate as a resident. This was a common practice around the island. Everything from the zoo to dope has a local rate and a tourist rate. It was usually double for tourists.
As we walked through the entrance to the garden I could tell I was going to enjoy myself thoroughly. Every direction you looked there was a different species of tree or flower. The main route was paved but dirt paths branched out in every which direction. They intersected throughout so if you wanted you could almost make the entire mile long walk without ever touching the concrete.
There was a tranquility about this place that I’d not experienced since I walked along the creek bed of fern canyon five years before. The complexity of life burst through all around us in the vibrant color of blooming flowers and the almost chameleon like bark of the trees. After twenty minutes of being there I felt an inner peace I didn’t know I could find outside of the Cascade mountains.
Three days is all it takes for the body to expel the chemicals I slammed into my veins. I am coming to terms with the fact that I’ll never fully erase their mark from my mind, but most importantly at this time I want them rinsed from my soul. I wasn’t sure it would be possible but Waimea falls showed me even the ugliest things of this world can be washed away.
I walked into the center of a large clearing and sat in the middle of a field. I could feel the branches and trees around me replacing my tattered psychological walls with a pure and translucent crystalline structure. It didn’t matter that anyone walking by could see me, the energy that existed there encased me within an iceberg that could have been a mile thick.
I was not alone though. Locked inside with me was a man, whose features my eyes couldn’t see, standing beside a ten year old boy down on his haunches with his face in his hands. I instantly recognized the boy as myself. The other man I knew, but couldn’t place how.
As we walked through the entrance to the garden I could tell I was going to enjoy myself thoroughly. Every direction you looked there was a different species of tree or flower. The main route was paved but dirt paths branched out in every which direction. They intersected throughout so if you wanted you could almost make the entire mile long walk without ever touching the concrete.
There was a tranquility about this place that I’d not experienced since I walked along the creek bed of fern canyon five years before. The complexity of life burst through all around us in the vibrant color of blooming flowers and the almost chameleon like bark of the trees. After twenty minutes of being there I felt an inner peace I didn’t know I could find outside of the Cascade mountains.
Three days is all it takes for the body to expel the chemicals I slammed into my veins. I am coming to terms with the fact that I’ll never fully erase their mark from my mind, but most importantly at this time I want them rinsed from my soul. I wasn’t sure it would be possible but Waimea falls showed me even the ugliest things of this world can be washed away.
I walked into the center of a large clearing and sat in the middle of a field. I could feel the branches and trees around me replacing my tattered psychological walls with a pure and translucent crystalline structure. It didn’t matter that anyone walking by could see me, the energy that existed there encased me within an iceberg that could have been a mile thick.
I was not alone though. Locked inside with me was a man, whose features my eyes couldn’t see, standing beside a ten year old boy down on his haunches with his face in his hands. I instantly recognized the boy as myself. The other man I knew, but couldn’t place how.
“We’ve been waiting for you.”
How long have you been here?
“Nearly 25 years. I was starting to think you’d never come.”
I didn’t know that you were waiting for me.
“You can’t lie to me. You chose to ignore us. Or more accurately, to ignore him.”
But, he’s me. How could I be ignoring myself?
“I’m not sure how you did it at first. He spent years crying in here. Screaming out to anyone that would listen. Now he doesn’t make a sound. Just sits there shaking, holding his head.”
Have you been with him this whole time?
“Someone had to stay with him. I wasn’t just going to abandon him.”
Who are you?
“Ha ha ha, you don’t even recognize yourself? I’m you, or who you’re supposed to be.”
I’ve been looking everywhere for you.
“You should have started with where you left me.”
I didn’t know you were here. Or maybe I just forgot.
“Wasn’t that the point of all this running?”
I wasn’t trying to run away from you, I was trying to find you!
“I’m not the one you were running from.”
The boy then lifted his head and looked straight into me. He was beautifully fragile. Despite the decades of sorrow he held in his eyes, there was still an undeniable innocence he cast off.
The boy then lifted his head and looked straight into me. He was beautifully fragile. Despite the decades of sorrow he held in his eyes, there was still an undeniable innocence he cast off.
I’m sorry.
“...”
I wish I could take it all back
“...”
…
“...”
Okay, well if I know you as well as I should, you’re not going to take my words to mean anything.
“...”
Please say something.
“...”
Alright, you don’t have to talk to me. But I would like you to do something for me. I understand if you refuse though.
“...”
Come with me.
In an instant the shell around me shattered into atmosphere and I was alone in the field once again. Jim was only a few feet away from me asking me if I was okay. I shook my head, like trying to clear an etch-a-sketch, before telling him that I was okay.
We made small talk the rest of the way back to the car. Every couple hundred feet he would point out another spot he could live. I was noticeably distracted, but he seemed to understand. He kept talking almost as a way of making sure I didn’t get lost in my own thoughts again.
In an instant the shell around me shattered into atmosphere and I was alone in the field once again. Jim was only a few feet away from me asking me if I was okay. I shook my head, like trying to clear an etch-a-sketch, before telling him that I was okay.
We made small talk the rest of the way back to the car. Every couple hundred feet he would point out another spot he could live. I was noticeably distracted, but he seemed to understand. He kept talking almost as a way of making sure I didn’t get lost in my own thoughts again.
I must have still appeared out of sorts by the time we reached the car. We sat down with both the doors open, waiting for the air conditioning to kick in,
“I get the impression you understand what I meant now.”
That is a very special place.
“Everytime I come here I learn something new about myself. If you ever want to come back, just let me know. I’m pretty much always up for it.”
I’d very much like to come back. I need a little bit of time first though.
“I understand.”
