Chris

A Thanksgiving Prayer

Higher Power,

On this day of gratitude, I come before you with a heart full of thanks.

Thank you for the gift of recovery, for the grace that pulled me from the depths of despair and set me on this path of healing and transformation.

I thank you for the pain and desperation that once consumed me, for it was in those darkest moments that I became willing to change. What once felt like a curse, I now see as the beginning of a new life. In my surrender, I found hope.

Thank you for my sponsor, whose wisdom, patience, and experience guide me daily. He walks with me on this journey, showing me what it means to live one day at a time with integrity and purpose.

Thank you for my family, for their love, forgiveness, and continued presence.

Thank you for my partner Jordan whose support, compassion, and love anchor me when I feel unsteady.

Thank you for the fellowship of Narcotics Anonymous, for the rooms, the shares, the hugs, and the stories that remind me I am not alone. Together, we find strength, one day at a time.

Most of all, thank you, Higher Power, for always being there, even when I could not see you. For your quiet voice within, gently nudging me toward my better self. You remind me I am worthy of love, capable of change, and never beyond redemption.

Today, I live in gratitude, not because life is perfect, but because I no longer have to face it alone. I have recovery. I have community. I have you.

Let me carry this gratitude into action by serving others, staying honest, showing up, and walking this path with humility.

Just for today.

Amen.

Torn

I’ve been feeling pretty torn lately. Some of my friends have been openly defending Charlie Kirk, or dismissing his words as inconsequential and honestly – yikes.

As a gay man who cares about equality and protecting vulnerable communities including transgender people, it’s hard not to feel hurt. His views clash with pretty much everything I believe in. This isn’t about denying free speech; it’s about the impact of the actual words he’s said which have caused real pain to people like me and those I care about.

Now, I get it, people have different backgrounds, perspectives, and reasons for supporting who they support. Politics is rarely black and white and I’m doing my best to remember that you can disagree with someone’s views without writing them off as a person entirely. Still, it’s difficult not to take it personally when those views feel like they’re aimed directly at people like me.

So here I am, stuck in the middle. Do I try to educate my friends and have those awkward but important conversations? Or do I just quietly back away for the sake of my sanity? On one hand, staying silent feels like I’m giving a free pass to stuff I find deeply harmful. On the other, launching into a political discussion over dinner doesn’t exactly scream fun night out.

I worry that speaking up might lead to tense arguments, or worse, the end of a friendship. Saying nothing, however, feels like I’m betraying my own values, and that doesn’t sit well with me either.

Recovery has taught me I can’t control what other people believe and trust me, I’ve tried, but I can control how I respond. I’m working on finding that sweet spot between empathy and boundaries, between keeping it real and keeping the peace.

It’s not easy, and there’s no simple answer here. But I’m committed to being honest with myself and with the people in my life.

The Sun I Fear Not

I gave up once –
and ice crept in, slow and silent.

I gave up once –
and floated in clouds too high to breathe.

I gave up once –
and fire bled through me.

I gave up once –
and the shadows came to stay.

I gave up once –
and let the darkness close my eyes.

I gave up once –
and tore love from my chest.

I gave up again –
and met the sun with open eyes.

Then I rose –
and love, like dawn, reached out to hold me.

I rose –
and struck a match against the dark.

I rose –
and stepped beyond the edges of the shadow.

I rose –
and felt a flame bloom in my chest.

I rose –
and the sky, once veiled, grew clear and blue.

Still I rise –
and the sun, once feared,
is mine to face.

She

go away.

but she returns
like smoke curling under the door,
begging me
to step into the glowless fire,
to embrace
the dim, hollow brilliance
of a life cursed.

I whisper,
“I wish this would stop.”

shadows dance in my mind
ghosts of counterfeit love,
warmth deceiving,
filling my veins
with flickers of a dying star.

her grip,
cold moonlight
on my chest
clawing at the ember
freezing inside.

I feel alone.
I know I am not.
but she leans in,
a shadow behind my eyes,
and whispers,
“You are.”

alone with her.
alone without her.
and now,
the reel begins to spin

a movie stitched from static and ash,
a fantasy with no dawn,
no dusk,
only the dim corridor
of infinite midnights
and promises made of smoke.

GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD.

there is no light
in your silver-laced lie.
there is no peace
in your porcelain touch.

you promise me stars,
but bury me in coal.

why, why won’t you leave?
or will you slide
into someone else’s soul
when you’ve hollowed mine?

smooth.
silent.
slithering,
a queen of cinders
dressed as fire.

does this end?
will the sun ever rise again
to cast you back
into the abyss from which you came?

yes.
yes, it will.

my life or yours?
a simple choice.

and yet …
and yet I ache
for the cold velvet
of your arms.

I can’t.
I won’t.
I can.
I will.

she loves me.
she loves not.

I love me.
I love me not.

I
LOVE
ME

and then
a spark,
tiny, trembling,
blinding.

a child’s hand
clutching mine,
pulling me
towards the warmth
of something real.

a voice,
faint,
but made of sunrise …

please.

please.

please don’t leave me again.

I won’t.

but I need
my brothers,
my sisters,
the keepers of the light
when mine grows dim.

I am weak,
but I am forged in fire.

I am shadowed,
but I walk toward the
dawn.

Practising Selflessness

To me, being selfless means acting with unselfish concern for others simply because I believe in kindness; I help without expecting praise or reward. True selflessness comes from a deep desire to benefit someone else, even when there is some cost to me. I know this does not mean denying my own needs, or living as to prove something to others.

I practice selflessness when I hold the door for a stranger, when I quietly listen to a friend’s worries, when I share resources even when I don’t have many, or when I give my time to someone in need with no strings attached. I act even if it makes things harder for me, because I believe small acts matter just as much as the grand ones.

Selflessness does more than help others; it strengthens me too. Helping raises my well-being, improves my relationships, deepens social connections, and supports my physical health. I feel more alive and more connected when I give. Empathy fuels me. I witness kindness in others, and I try to let their examples inspire me to be more generous and more aware of the needs of others.

I also know selflessness must be balanced. I care for myself by resting, saying no when I need to, and protecting my boundaries. When I am full inside, emotionally and physically, I give more freely and more authentically.

In choosing selflessness, I become part of something larger than myself and I discover strength in giving.

Taking Responsibility

I didn’t choose how I’m wired, but I can choose how I live.

It’s taken me time to see how often I’ve blamed others for the outcomes of my own choices. I get why I did it – it felt safer. But it hasn’t helped me grow.

I’m trying something different. I’m learning to take responsibility for what’s mine, without drowning in guilt or shame. That part’s hard, but it feels honest.

Letting go of blame doesn’t mean excusing what hurt me. It just means I’m ready to stop giving my power away.

For me, responsibility isn’t about being perfect – it’s about moving forward with more clarity and a little more self-respect.

That feels like a kind of freedom.

6 Years Clean

Six years ago, I was beaten – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Addiction had taken everything: my health, my peace, and my relationships. I was lost.

Recovery began when I got honest and admitted I couldn’t do it alone. I went to treatment. Faced my trauma. Found my place in a 12-step program and slowly, I began to heal.

Open-mindedness came next. I learned to listen, accept help, and believe I might actually deserve better. It wasn’t easy. Letting go of old survival strategies never is. But the change started when I stopped pretending I had it all figured out.

And then came willingness. The willingness to show up. Do the work. Stay the course. That’s what recovery is: not perfection – just progress.

I didn’t do this alone. I’m forever grateful to the people who stood by me: my sponsor, my therapists, friends, family, and fellow addicts in recovery. You held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own.

Today, I’m six years clean – and more alive than I’ve ever been. Grateful for the pain, the growth, the clarity, and the freedom that comes with recovery. One day at a time.

Conversations With An Addict Brain

November 10, 2019

Me (M): Good morning!
Addict Brain(A): What’s so good about it? I’m tired let’s go back to bed. It’s warm there.
M: Naw, I have things to do.
A: Like what? It can all wait until tomorrow, or the next day, even next week.
M: I want to go see Mary …
A: Lol. That bitch? She doesn’t like you, you know. She feels sorry for you, in fact …
M: That’s not true. We went out all day last week and had a great talk, some cries …
A: What a loser you are. You’re a grown man. Stop your fucking crying.
M: You know what, I’m going for a walk …
A: Walk? Oh! Great idea! Wanna go down to the river and up to Bruce Avenue?
M: Why would I go that far …
A: Well …
M: Oh wait, hell no!
A: Why not? Let’s go talk to a real man, pick up a few points, come back here and …
M: Fuck off! I am going downstairs and getting some breakfast.
A: I’m coming too fatso!
M: No shit, you don’t say! And I’m not fat!
A: Fuck man, you could have your own postal code. Second thought, area code!
M: So what, I’ve put on some weight. You nearly killed me.
A: True, I got a bit carried away. But you are getting fat, dough-boy.
M: Yeah, true. Not liking the look.
A: We don’t have to do a lot, stick to smoking it, no syringes, the weight will melt away like the cheese on that sandwich you won’t eat for weeks.
M: True. I’ve been to rehab now 3 times, I could probably control it, drink lots of water …
A: Now we’re talking. What you sayin’? Go for that walk now?
M: Yeah. Let’s go.
A: Fuck yeah, it’ll be fun, you’ll see. We can stop at Ace, and pick up a Valentine …
M: What the hell am I doing listening to you for? I’m going to the gym.
A: Damn man, me too. Need to do some push ups and press some iron. All this rehab you’ve been going to is making me weak.
M: Man, I gotta call my sponsor.
A: You do that girly man. We’ll go to the gym. You won’t be able to resist my ripped abs and biceps then!
M: Hey, Dan…I’m craving bad, wanna go for coffee?

Too Soon?

November 9, 2019

Let It Go!

November 7, 2019

Just last week I viewed myself a failure. I was triggered and thought about using. This turned inward as self-hate and self-pity screaming silently in my head, “Is this what life has come to be?” living with trigger after trigger, fighting every moment and hating the happiness around me?

No! Only if I choose to allow hate to fill my heart. The more I choose to love others, the more I begin to love myself. The more I love myself, the more others love themselves. If I see the love and happiness in others, I begin to see that light in me. If I choose to see darkness in others, I see only darkness in me.

My struggle with addiction in turn, is a struggle with love, more so, an absence of self love. I have to remember I cannot blame myself or anyone for this.

I must set the past and myself free.