True Abundance
This coming November marks my twentieth year of sobriety. On November 28th of 1988 I became painfully aware that I had no control of my drinking and cocaine abuse. After a horrific series of binges I knew if I continued to use I would die or go insane.
I had been living with a male roommate who had rescued me from living on the street. At one point I had been sleeping in a little electric meter room behind the Midnight Bottle Club. I was sitting in a bar one day, getting ready to drink my last eight dollars I had to my name so I could go pass out inside that little meter room. In walked Chris, one of my co-workers, who had discovered I was homeless. He took me home and gave me some clean clothes and a place to sleep on the living room couch.
We became fast friends. We were joined at the hip and shared many drug drenched adventures together. He was sort of like a big brother figure to me. He would watch over me and reel me in when I got too far out there.
When I got sober Chris started to let himself go. He began to get further and further out there. I would come home from an AA meeting to find him naked on the living room couch, a fog of crack cocaine smoke greeting me at the door. He would be gizacked half out of his mind.
I realized if I was going to stay sober this was not going to work. I had to get out of there. One Friday when I was at work I opened up the classified section of the newspaper and spotted an efficiency apartment for 75.00 a week.
The landlord wanted first, last, and security. It would take my whole paycheck to move in there. I knew if I stayed where I was at I was going to go down the drain. I sucked it up and plunked down my paycheck to move out on my roommate.
We both kind of got choked up. We had grown so close, but we knew it was time to part. I didn't realize it at the time, but that day was my 90th day of sobriety.
The place I moved into was less than half the size of the apartment we had shared together. There was just enough room for a couch that doubled as my bed, a chair to set in, a table and some dresser drawers and a refrigerator. People who came to visit would think the "sitting room' was nice until they realized it was the entire living space.
I was truly living "by the skin of my teeth". It would be two years before I would get a phone. I took the bus to work and caught rides with friends. I was working on straight commission (phone sales) and didn't know how much money I was going to have any given week.
But my little place was my home. I was in control of what went on there. Nobody could walk in screwed up and destroy the serenity of the place. I went to AA meetings daily (up to three times and day) and practiced Zen meditation.
When my one year anniversary of sobriety came up, I was out of work and physically sick. Laryngitis made it impossible to talk on the phone and earn my livelihood. I was feverish. I was broke as I had ever been in my life. And I never felt better spiritually. I was truly happy inside.
Today I live in a beautiful townhouse with the love of my life. I have every electronic gizmo I could want. I own two cars, both of which are paid off. I'm sole proprietor of my own Tarot reading and hypnosis practice. My credit was bad most of my life. I now have more credit cards than I care to use. Life is good.
Is this true abundance? I'm not unhappy now, things are great, but am I ten times happier than when I was in that little apartment? Happiness is truly found within. It doesn't matter how many toys you got. It's what inside you that counts. And that's what I get to choose everyday.
I may not be able to change the world but I can sure decide to how view it and respond to it.
One day at a time.
I had been living with a male roommate who had rescued me from living on the street. At one point I had been sleeping in a little electric meter room behind the Midnight Bottle Club. I was sitting in a bar one day, getting ready to drink my last eight dollars I had to my name so I could go pass out inside that little meter room. In walked Chris, one of my co-workers, who had discovered I was homeless. He took me home and gave me some clean clothes and a place to sleep on the living room couch.
We became fast friends. We were joined at the hip and shared many drug drenched adventures together. He was sort of like a big brother figure to me. He would watch over me and reel me in when I got too far out there.
When I got sober Chris started to let himself go. He began to get further and further out there. I would come home from an AA meeting to find him naked on the living room couch, a fog of crack cocaine smoke greeting me at the door. He would be gizacked half out of his mind.
I realized if I was going to stay sober this was not going to work. I had to get out of there. One Friday when I was at work I opened up the classified section of the newspaper and spotted an efficiency apartment for 75.00 a week.
The landlord wanted first, last, and security. It would take my whole paycheck to move in there. I knew if I stayed where I was at I was going to go down the drain. I sucked it up and plunked down my paycheck to move out on my roommate.
We both kind of got choked up. We had grown so close, but we knew it was time to part. I didn't realize it at the time, but that day was my 90th day of sobriety.
The place I moved into was less than half the size of the apartment we had shared together. There was just enough room for a couch that doubled as my bed, a chair to set in, a table and some dresser drawers and a refrigerator. People who came to visit would think the "sitting room' was nice until they realized it was the entire living space.
I was truly living "by the skin of my teeth". It would be two years before I would get a phone. I took the bus to work and caught rides with friends. I was working on straight commission (phone sales) and didn't know how much money I was going to have any given week.
But my little place was my home. I was in control of what went on there. Nobody could walk in screwed up and destroy the serenity of the place. I went to AA meetings daily (up to three times and day) and practiced Zen meditation.
When my one year anniversary of sobriety came up, I was out of work and physically sick. Laryngitis made it impossible to talk on the phone and earn my livelihood. I was feverish. I was broke as I had ever been in my life. And I never felt better spiritually. I was truly happy inside.
Today I live in a beautiful townhouse with the love of my life. I have every electronic gizmo I could want. I own two cars, both of which are paid off. I'm sole proprietor of my own Tarot reading and hypnosis practice. My credit was bad most of my life. I now have more credit cards than I care to use. Life is good.
Is this true abundance? I'm not unhappy now, things are great, but am I ten times happier than when I was in that little apartment? Happiness is truly found within. It doesn't matter how many toys you got. It's what inside you that counts. And that's what I get to choose everyday.
I may not be able to change the world but I can sure decide to how view it and respond to it.
One day at a time.
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