I am so incredibly proud of you for many things, but I am especially proud of your sobriety journey and how you inspired and helped me in my own. Five years is huge! Here's to a lifetime of sober years and joy. I love you.
All of your retelling felt so familiar, and your closing words really are a gift to anyone looking for a way out of this particular kind of insanity. As much as, as you noted, one can be “out”. I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there are parts of me who are always going to feel the magnetic pull towards certain drugs, opiates especially. There’s a very young part of me that still thinks that if the people I love truly understood what those drugs gave me, even momentarily, they’d have no issue at all with me doing them. Not so, of course, but she remains vocal, nonetheless. Biggest and sincerest congratulations on your five years, Michael. That’s amazing. You're amazing.
Thank you Chloe. I’m glad (and sorry to hear) this piece resonated with you. And yes, I feel a similar way in that I wasn’t ready back then to look at my issues and, in a roundabout way, the drugs helped me avoid that. Which, even though it doesn’t seem helpful to most, at the time it was the best way I knew how to manage it.
Thank you Chloe. I’m glad (and sorry to hear) this piece resonated with you. And yes, I feel a similar way in that I wasn’t ready back then to look at my issues and, in a roundabout way, the drugs helped me avoid that. Which, even though it doesn’t seem helpful to most, at the time it was the best way I knew how to manage it.
Beautiful, Michael. I love the description of the self-severing, of the lonely ghost hearing the echoing of the sirens of a wayward past. Such a wise and true (maybe that’s a funny word? but it fits I think) way of looking back at this fog and the murkiness before the clearing (or passing out of).
Thank you Holly! I’m so glad you enjoyed the piece and those particular descriptions. And I must say, I am thrilled you picked out the lonely ghost line — that was my favourite line hehehe. Thanks again Holly I appreciate you. :)
There’re so many little things that soar in this, but first, I’m so happy you found your way to this alternate path or adjacent self—that you were able to exit the fog, even if you can still sorta see it in the rearview.
As for the writing itself:
Penchant. Habit. Addiction. I feel like you did an incredible job succinctly conveying the process of developing addiction. The focus on an occasion like this could be navigating out of that, but I admire that you instead devoted your words toward the entry, the beginning, and being in the fog itself rather than exclusively on the escape.
Your description of that first dosage of morphine was incredible, but I especially liked the contrast that followed: as it became more normal, intricate detailed descriptions gave way to disjointed haze, random locations, snippets of substance and setting.
As to your last section, I’m not sure you’ve ever written anything that more deeply struck me as true than “Because I know that part of me isn’t truly gone. Still stumbling about lost in that ethereal nowhere, I can hear it call out from time to time. A lonely ghost echoing the siren song of my wayward past.” One of the toughest things about looking backward is not remembering the pain and the mistakes, but recognizing the person who felt it and made them is still there. I love your description, but sometimes my ghosts are loud, forceful, and borderline corporeal. An occasion like this is cause for celebration, of course, but I admire you for acknowledging that wailing deep in your soul on that occasion, too. You wouldn’t be you without him, wayward though he might be.
Thank you Michael. As always I appreciate your in-depth engagement with my writing.
And I must say, I’m so glad you mentioned that I focused on the beginning/descent into addiction and not the way out. That was intentional. I felt that there is so much out there about getting over addiction and far less about the experience itself. So I was glad to try explore that.
Also, thank you for the kind words on my descriptions. And your right looking back is hard for so many reasons, least of which for looking at that person you once was. I feel that person. And I totally agree, I wouldn’t be who I am without that wailing part of me. Thanks again Michael. I wish you all the strength navigating your own ghosts. :)
This was such a generous peek behind the curtain of your life. Too many lines to copy/paste, but this one was my fave: “I’m running along another back street, maybe away from people, maybe towards people, but always from myself.”
It takes emotional intelligence to hold the awareness of how we are treating ourselves. It seems like you’ve always had it, but that self awareness maybe pulled you out of the fog along the way?
Thank you for sharing this slice of your life out here!
Thank you Kaylen. I really appreciate you pointing out that particular line, that was one of my favs.
And yes, I certainly agree that tapping into my emotional intelligence helped pull me out of the fog. It was hard for me to convey that in this piece, but I definitely think that was part of it.
Thanks again for all your kind words, it means a lot. :)
*nods head emphatically in recognition* Congratulations on 5 years, Michael - I'm just past 3-1/2 years myself. I think maybe it's no coincidence that we both finally found our words once we were no longer running from them in a liquid, smoky haze. To words! and to you, brother - sobriety is the most precious gift we can give ourselves. 💛
Incredible Michael. The writing, of course, and the way you yanked me in with those first couple of sentences: high at 8? And pregnant???? 😂 But also your honest account and examination—the elation turning to habit turning to chain and how recovery looks less like a healing and more like a strange severing. I’ve never heard it that way before but it feels more true—to acknowledge that parts of ourselves never really “drift away” like some ethereal wisp, but linger, and maybe even lurk. Still there but less loud, or more diluted as new facets of your selfhood come into play. I don’t know, but I feel like I can still hear that werewolf’s voice, his power, but instead of it being channeled through intoxication, it’s finding itself anew through your writing?
Thank you Kimberly. I really appreciate your thoughtful engagement with the piece.
Hehehe, yes, I must say, I was quite happy with those first few sentences — so I’m thrilled to hear they “yanked” you in.
Yeah I think you’re right, the werewolf is still in there lurking. And writing has definitely given me a more healthy way to express and explore the rawness of that side of me. I didn’t touch on it in the piece, but I’ve heard many addicts in recovery talk about finding some other pursuit that helped them satiate whatever drive is in them, for me, that is most certainly writing.
You should be incredibly proud of where you are today and what you've achieved. Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your story. That's hard too and I can tell this post came from your heart.
Michael, this is searingly beautiful—raw, luminous, incredibly vulnerable --in an empowered vulnerability kind of way-- and utterly human. Your words pulled me right in with the idea of an 8-year-old kid getting high. And once again, your writing made me feel: at first my heart was breaking for you, and ultimately, as our Buddhist monk neighbors talk about, I felt mudita — sympathetic or altruistic joy, gladness at the good fortune of others. Congratulations on 5 years sober. That’s a brilliant milestone to celebrate.
I also respect how you resisted the neat redemptive bow at the end, and instead offered something far more honest: a voice still listening to the echoes, a man aware that parts of him are still wandering in the mist. That’s such a generous and nuanced gift to your readers—perhaps especially for anyone still searching for a trailhead out.
I’d love to hear more about where you fit in your philosophy degree, and if that was part of your journey towards healing? I wonder if one day you may use all these pieces towards cobbling together a kind of memoir. I hope so. It’d be a beautiful gift to yourself and your readers.
Thank you Camilla. Your description of the piece as — “… searingly beautiful—raw, luminous, incredibly vulnerable --in an empowered vulnerability kind of way-- and utterly human.“ — was so wonderful to read. That is honestly so kind of you.
And thank you for mentioning that. It was important to me that I didn’t fall into the trap of wrapping this piece up on a neat bow as the experience just wasn’t like that.
That is an interesting question, and yes, the philosophy degree definitely factored into my journey towards healing. Maybe I will touch on that more sometime in the future, but for enough it’s safe to say that the philosophy degree was part of a transformation in my thinking and understanding of myself.
Ohhh that is a lovely idea. Yes, maybe a cobbled together memoir one day in the future. If I can get a wriggle on with my writing there is so much I’d like to get done in that space.
Thanks again Camilla I really appreciate your thorough engagement with this piece. :)
Hahaha yes, I’ve heard it a few times. I have no idea if it’s actually true. I suspect it’s just some sort of stoner myth. Either way it’s kinda funny.
All your people show up for you in their gorgeous grace. I almost lost it last week. And I assure you “I had a good, no great reason’…blah, blah and all. But my people heard ‘it’ in my voice and swooped up this hard hit land slid mountain, still being repaired 9 months after Helene. Many favorites —but a friend reminded me that the River needs me. And then she had to fly off the phone because she was working with some immigrants.
Thank you Katharine. Your words are much appreciated.
It’s such a wonderfull blessing that we have people who show up for us when we need it most. I’m glad there were people who showed up for you. And same goes for me.
You're writing alone shines a light!
Ohhh bless you Linda. That is so sweet of you. Thank you :)
I am so incredibly proud of you for many things, but I am especially proud of your sobriety journey and how you inspired and helped me in my own. Five years is huge! Here's to a lifetime of sober years and joy. I love you.
PS. the writing is wonderful (as always).
Thank you Chicken. You helped me along this journey more than you know. And I’m thrilled I could help you along yours.
You’re the best ever ❤️😘🐥
I enjoyed the honesty in this one. Congratulations on being sober, that is a monumental achievement.
Thank you Hrvoje! I’m glad you enjoyed the piece. And thanks for the congratulations, it is much appreciated. :)
All of your retelling felt so familiar, and your closing words really are a gift to anyone looking for a way out of this particular kind of insanity. As much as, as you noted, one can be “out”. I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there are parts of me who are always going to feel the magnetic pull towards certain drugs, opiates especially. There’s a very young part of me that still thinks that if the people I love truly understood what those drugs gave me, even momentarily, they’d have no issue at all with me doing them. Not so, of course, but she remains vocal, nonetheless. Biggest and sincerest congratulations on your five years, Michael. That’s amazing. You're amazing.
Thank you Chloe. I’m glad (and sorry to hear) this piece resonated with you. And yes, I feel a similar way in that I wasn’t ready back then to look at my issues and, in a roundabout way, the drugs helped me avoid that. Which, even though it doesn’t seem helpful to most, at the time it was the best way I knew how to manage it.
And I know, right?! The pull is real!
Thanks again Chloe I appreciate you. :)
❤️
Thank you Chloe. I’m glad (and sorry to hear) this piece resonated with you. And yes, I feel a similar way in that I wasn’t ready back then to look at my issues and, in a roundabout way, the drugs helped me avoid that. Which, even though it doesn’t seem helpful to most, at the time it was the best way I knew how to manage it.
And I know, right?! The pull is real!
Thanks again Chloe I appreciate you. :)
Beautiful, Michael. I love the description of the self-severing, of the lonely ghost hearing the echoing of the sirens of a wayward past. Such a wise and true (maybe that’s a funny word? but it fits I think) way of looking back at this fog and the murkiness before the clearing (or passing out of).
Thank you Holly! I’m so glad you enjoyed the piece and those particular descriptions. And I must say, I am thrilled you picked out the lonely ghost line — that was my favourite line hehehe. Thanks again Holly I appreciate you. :)
There’re so many little things that soar in this, but first, I’m so happy you found your way to this alternate path or adjacent self—that you were able to exit the fog, even if you can still sorta see it in the rearview.
As for the writing itself:
Penchant. Habit. Addiction. I feel like you did an incredible job succinctly conveying the process of developing addiction. The focus on an occasion like this could be navigating out of that, but I admire that you instead devoted your words toward the entry, the beginning, and being in the fog itself rather than exclusively on the escape.
Your description of that first dosage of morphine was incredible, but I especially liked the contrast that followed: as it became more normal, intricate detailed descriptions gave way to disjointed haze, random locations, snippets of substance and setting.
As to your last section, I’m not sure you’ve ever written anything that more deeply struck me as true than “Because I know that part of me isn’t truly gone. Still stumbling about lost in that ethereal nowhere, I can hear it call out from time to time. A lonely ghost echoing the siren song of my wayward past.” One of the toughest things about looking backward is not remembering the pain and the mistakes, but recognizing the person who felt it and made them is still there. I love your description, but sometimes my ghosts are loud, forceful, and borderline corporeal. An occasion like this is cause for celebration, of course, but I admire you for acknowledging that wailing deep in your soul on that occasion, too. You wouldn’t be you without him, wayward though he might be.
Incredible piece, incredible occasion, too. Thanks Michael.
Thank you Michael. As always I appreciate your in-depth engagement with my writing.
And I must say, I’m so glad you mentioned that I focused on the beginning/descent into addiction and not the way out. That was intentional. I felt that there is so much out there about getting over addiction and far less about the experience itself. So I was glad to try explore that.
Also, thank you for the kind words on my descriptions. And your right looking back is hard for so many reasons, least of which for looking at that person you once was. I feel that person. And I totally agree, I wouldn’t be who I am without that wailing part of me. Thanks again Michael. I wish you all the strength navigating your own ghosts. :)
This was such a generous peek behind the curtain of your life. Too many lines to copy/paste, but this one was my fave: “I’m running along another back street, maybe away from people, maybe towards people, but always from myself.”
It takes emotional intelligence to hold the awareness of how we are treating ourselves. It seems like you’ve always had it, but that self awareness maybe pulled you out of the fog along the way?
Thank you for sharing this slice of your life out here!
Thank you Kaylen. I really appreciate you pointing out that particular line, that was one of my favs.
And yes, I certainly agree that tapping into my emotional intelligence helped pull me out of the fog. It was hard for me to convey that in this piece, but I definitely think that was part of it.
Thanks again for all your kind words, it means a lot. :)
*nods head emphatically in recognition* Congratulations on 5 years, Michael - I'm just past 3-1/2 years myself. I think maybe it's no coincidence that we both finally found our words once we were no longer running from them in a liquid, smoky haze. To words! and to you, brother - sobriety is the most precious gift we can give ourselves. 💛
Thank you Troy. More than three and half years is huge, brother! Congratulations!
And yes, I think you’re right — sobriety definitely helped with finding our words! To words! :)
Incredible Michael. The writing, of course, and the way you yanked me in with those first couple of sentences: high at 8? And pregnant???? 😂 But also your honest account and examination—the elation turning to habit turning to chain and how recovery looks less like a healing and more like a strange severing. I’ve never heard it that way before but it feels more true—to acknowledge that parts of ourselves never really “drift away” like some ethereal wisp, but linger, and maybe even lurk. Still there but less loud, or more diluted as new facets of your selfhood come into play. I don’t know, but I feel like I can still hear that werewolf’s voice, his power, but instead of it being channeled through intoxication, it’s finding itself anew through your writing?
Thank you Kimberly. I really appreciate your thoughtful engagement with the piece.
Hehehe, yes, I must say, I was quite happy with those first few sentences — so I’m thrilled to hear they “yanked” you in.
Yeah I think you’re right, the werewolf is still in there lurking. And writing has definitely given me a more healthy way to express and explore the rawness of that side of me. I didn’t touch on it in the piece, but I’ve heard many addicts in recovery talk about finding some other pursuit that helped them satiate whatever drive is in them, for me, that is most certainly writing.
Thanks again Kimberly :)
You should be incredibly proud of where you are today and what you've achieved. Thank you for being vulnerable and sharing your story. That's hard too and I can tell this post came from your heart.
Thank you RenoQueen. This piece really was special to me, and so, your kind words truly mean so much. :)
Michael, this is searingly beautiful—raw, luminous, incredibly vulnerable --in an empowered vulnerability kind of way-- and utterly human. Your words pulled me right in with the idea of an 8-year-old kid getting high. And once again, your writing made me feel: at first my heart was breaking for you, and ultimately, as our Buddhist monk neighbors talk about, I felt mudita — sympathetic or altruistic joy, gladness at the good fortune of others. Congratulations on 5 years sober. That’s a brilliant milestone to celebrate.
I also respect how you resisted the neat redemptive bow at the end, and instead offered something far more honest: a voice still listening to the echoes, a man aware that parts of him are still wandering in the mist. That’s such a generous and nuanced gift to your readers—perhaps especially for anyone still searching for a trailhead out.
I’d love to hear more about where you fit in your philosophy degree, and if that was part of your journey towards healing? I wonder if one day you may use all these pieces towards cobbling together a kind of memoir. I hope so. It’d be a beautiful gift to yourself and your readers.
Thank you Camilla. Your description of the piece as — “… searingly beautiful—raw, luminous, incredibly vulnerable --in an empowered vulnerability kind of way-- and utterly human.“ — was so wonderful to read. That is honestly so kind of you.
And thank you for mentioning that. It was important to me that I didn’t fall into the trap of wrapping this piece up on a neat bow as the experience just wasn’t like that.
That is an interesting question, and yes, the philosophy degree definitely factored into my journey towards healing. Maybe I will touch on that more sometime in the future, but for enough it’s safe to say that the philosophy degree was part of a transformation in my thinking and understanding of myself.
Ohhh that is a lovely idea. Yes, maybe a cobbled together memoir one day in the future. If I can get a wriggle on with my writing there is so much I’d like to get done in that space.
Thanks again Camilla I really appreciate your thorough engagement with this piece. :)
This is a hard thing to write about it and you do it so directly and so honestly. And also with writerly restraint so it’s a good read.
Thank you SJ. That is very kind of you. It was tough to write about, but I’m glad I did. :)
Im glad you did too!
Brilliant last line. Congrats on 5 years!
I too was told that coughing increases the high. Haha. Was this a scientific fact?
Thank you CK Steefel, I really appreciate that.
Hahaha yes, I’ve heard it a few times. I have no idea if it’s actually true. I suspect it’s just some sort of stoner myth. Either way it’s kinda funny.
Congratulations Michael. Outstanding writing.
Thank you Tania. That really means a lot. :)
This was so elegant and so beautiful, Michael. One of your best.
I also belly roll laughed for about 20 seconds at this line: And holy fucking shit, was that bitch right. 😂
5 years is a huge milestone!!! BRAVO! I’m so proud of you!
I deeply enjoyed this one. Thank you.
Thank you Jenovia. Your kind words really mean a lot.
Hehehe I’m glad to hear that line made you giggle, I thought it was a bit cheeky. :)
All your people show up for you in their gorgeous grace. I almost lost it last week. And I assure you “I had a good, no great reason’…blah, blah and all. But my people heard ‘it’ in my voice and swooped up this hard hit land slid mountain, still being repaired 9 months after Helene. Many favorites —but a friend reminded me that the River needs me. And then she had to fly off the phone because she was working with some immigrants.
Congratulations. This is your path🌱🌿💚
Thank you Katharine. Your words are much appreciated.
It’s such a wonderfull blessing that we have people who show up for us when we need it most. I’m glad there were people who showed up for you. And same goes for me.
Thanks again :)