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.
Tag: faith
Desperation
May 1, 2019
My name is Chris and I’m a recovering addict. This is part 6 of my story.
Selfish. That was one thing I did well.
So on the night of December 27th, I slipped out the back gate of my home to never return. But an unlikely source intervened and ultimately saved my life.
The path ahead was blurred by tears of anger and sorrow as a great hopelessness washed over me. As I neared Richmond Street, I paused and looked up at the night sky searching for an answer to a question I did not know how to ask.
All I saw was darkness.
I reached into my coat pocket and felt my freedom – it’s cold rigid plastic holding the promise that Crystal offered. There was reassurance in death; there was no sadness, only relief from the pain of a thousand lies.
I walked slowly across Richmond Street making my way to Willistead Park. I had decided I would end my pain in the very spot my character in my first short film had chosen to end his.
Tears were coursing down my face unseen by the few who were walking through the park, collars to the wind and backs to the world.
I truly believed I would be saving my partner from the pain of learning the truth. I truly believed my parents, my guides, my confidants would be free from the torment of learning who their son really was.
As I neared my destination, I touched my pocket where the prepared syringe was and sat upon the bench.
There were no more tears, only angry determination to put this world full of pain, hurt, anger and resentment behind me.
I pulled the syringe from my jacket and rest it upon my leg, it’s contents shimmering from the pathway lights, yearning to course through my veins one final time.
The night was quiet save my heart pounding in my head, pleading with me to get up and go home. There were no more tears to be cried, no goodbyes to be said as I pushed up the sleeve of my jacket. The veins in my forearms pulsed in anticipation of receiving it’s toxic nirvana.
I looked to the sky one final time, took a deep breath and plunged the syringe into my vein.
