Busload Of Faith, or, "Be Careful What You Wish For, You Just Might Get It"

This is just going to be a brief little update, followed by something that I had posted on my old site, back in August of 2006. I’m posting it, because I was reminded of it today when a couple of good friends of mine revealed that they were going through some really rough shit – and it immediately caused my mind to flash back to one of the lowest and most desperate times in my own life.

I’ve been having a rough time with some things lately as well. I’m holding fast to the health thing, and working really hard to maintain the emotionally healthy ideas I set for myself for 2010. The health thing has actually been way easier than I thought it would. Once I established the patterns of eating healthier, my body now craves that healthier food. I’m still chugging down lakes of water daily, and I have yet to have a single soda or a cup of coffee since I began doing this back in January.

Physically, I feel pretty fucking good.

Emotionally, on the other hand…

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my sobriety, and about the effect it has on my relationships with people.

I stopped imbibing almost three years ago. It was something I had wanted to do for a while, and had tried to do many times in the past. In the past, I was usually only able to quit for a little while, but it was very hard to suppress my innermost Hank Chinaski (also referenced in the letter posted at the end of this here Ramble) – the allure of a dimly lit speakeasy (and the cast of characters commonly found within it) coupled with the tractor beam of a well-balanced glass of whiskey was a constant niggling, pulling me into those magical and darkened corners. Most of the time that I was in the process of quitting, I was choosing which vice would get to live on – if I was going to stop drinking – I kept on smoking pot and eating bars of Xanax like candy, or if I was planning on giving up the reefer – I would start drinking more red wine and popping Valiums. I was a fucking mess.

Obviously, this wasn’t a very good pattern for me – choosing between one vice or the other.

This time it was much easier, and very different. I didn’t seek anyone else’s help, I just made a decision and stopped. Everything. No more pills, booze, reefer. I gave it all up, and have honestly never looked at the road behind me – I just keep pushing forward. I do not question, at all, my choice to no longer “get fucked up.” If anything, it was a long time coming – and not just for the reasons that would seem easy enough for anyone to suss out.

It was just time.

In the beginning stages of cleaning myself up, I was very nervous about how my friends were going to take it – most of the time that we all spent together involved me drinking brutish volumes of liquor. I was the guy that someone could call at three in the morning and meet up for a drink. I just didn’t give a fuck. And now, here I was, cutting that part right the fuck on out of me. How were my friends going to take it? Were they going to shun me? I really was kind of terrified – I had just been through a lot of really heavy shit in a short period of time (which the letter below spells out), and the few friends I had – I really wanted to keep them, and keep them close.

They actually adjusted pretty well. In fact – quite a few of them confessed that they had hoped I was going to make such a change, because they were worried that I was going to drink myself to death.

In the rightfuckingnow, I’m definitely happy with my decision to clean my life up – I would never go back to being that Sean. But, and this is serious now, at times I feel as though new people that I meet figure out or find out that I am sober (it’s not like I walk around rocking a Youth Of Today shirt and talking about the evils of poisoning oneself with drugs and hooch), and they immediately get fucking weird. Am I an alcoholic? Yeah. Am I a junkie? Yeah. I’ll always be those things – it’s not like I can just erase the memory banks completely – all I have done is change my behaviors and made a decision to no longer “get fucked up.” I appreciate being clearheaded now, and I appreciate the fact that when there is a problem, my first instinct is no longer to drown my sorrows and try to erase the problem – I deal with shit now. For real.

Much like everything else – this might all be in my head – but sometimes it feels like people have a harder time with my sobriety than I do with their imbibing. When people get that wonky look in their eye and feel the need to ask for my permission to have a drink in my presence, that’s when I start to realize that I need to step back a bit, really look at that relationship, and try to figure out how much value there is in it. Is this judgmental of me? Yeah, a little bit. But that’s unfortunately how I have to do things. I’m not concerned with me suddenly changing my mind and running to the nearest liquor store and guzzling down a bottle of Maker’s Mark outside on the sidewalk – the decision to be sober has been made, and I am more than cool with it. What I’m not cool with, is when people who I am emotionally investing in (and let’s get on motherfucking Front Street, people – a friendship is an emotional investment) treat me like a fucking leper or a lesser-than because I’m not rolling the way they roll. If you’re in my presence, and feel self-conscious about your habits, then that is something broken inside of you, not me. Believe that.


So – that’s what has been on my mind a lot lately. It’s funny in a way – there is a lot of truth to all of the koans written about the nature of water. One ripple creates so many more.

Below is this goddamn letter I keep on referencing. I wrote it, funnily enough, in an opiate/alcohol haze back in the summer of 2006. I got clean for good almost three years to the day from today – my last drink was on March 16, 2007 – a shot of Jameson’s for my old man. Not one drop has hit these lips since.

Take care of yourselves, and be good to each other. Life is too fucking short not to.


Dear Universe,

I don’t really know how we’ve ended up in this predicament, but it seems as though we’re at an impasse in our relationship. I feel really awkward writing about our relationship out here on the interweb, but I’m not sure you’ve been hearing me in my attempts at daily commiseration with you.

It feels like this cry for help could be my last shot at some kind of open dialogue/reconciliation with you.

Lately it seems as though every time I reach for your hand, you pull away from me. I’m not sure what it is that I did to offend you, but it hurts. Our relationship used to be so much stronger than this, and I feel very disconnected. This feeling of disconnection from you is leading me into a deeper well of depression, and I am starting to become concerned that the damage is not only irreparable, but also permanently scarring.

My psyche is a wee bit too fragile for this shit from you, Universe, and I honestly expected a little bit more from you than this.

Maybe you think I’ve been taking our relationship for granted, or something along those lines? It seems so cliché, but that’s not about you, it’s about me. I certainly haven’t been blaming you for all of these trials and tribulations that have been tossed my way over the last 36 months or so, have I? I felt as though I was handling things pretty well, taking responsibility for my own complicity in the events that have transpired around me. For some otherworldly reason, I’ve yet to point my finger at you out of anger for the multitude of humbling and soul-shattering moments you’ve laid at my feet.

Is that what you want me to do?

If blaming you is what you want from me, I am going to have to disappoint you some more. I’m not in the blame business, and at this point in our relationship – you should already know that I have outgrown that kind of behavior. Hell…you taught me to love, not hate. So why would you want me to blame you, for things that were/are/will be beyond my control? I can’t do that, and you know it.

Fuck it. Hold up.

Okay. Fine. You know what, Universe? I am a little bit pissed off at you, okay? Maybe I do need to scream at you a bit; to get this shit out of my chest and out into the ether.

Why, oh Grand Universe, have you decided that consistently testing my ability to keep from becoming some fucking mess of a man is so important to you? Was it necessary to take both of my fucking parents from me, before I had the chance to ever feel as though I actually made them proud of me for anything other than mundane bullshit that any mouth-breather on this rock could pull off? Was it totally necessary to take from me a friend that I felt like I had known my entire life, and was motherfucking sure I would end up knowing for the rest of my time here on terra firma? Does it continue to be necessary to have The Holy Rollers judging me and fucking stealing from me what was left for me by my grandmother (whom you also took from me much too fucking quickly, you fucking sadist, you)? Do you think it’s fucking funny that my sister can’t return my calls? Why do I have to be so fucking tested all the time? Putting obstacles in my path seems to be your sick and twisted manner of showing me affection, Universe.

Right now I am screaming the safe word at you, yet you continue to flog away.

I’m not totally sure what it is that I have done to hurt you so deeply that you would act this way, but whatever it is I am sorry. It’s also unnecessary for you to continue to fuck with my friends as well. This isn’t high school – it’s life. My friends are for the most part all goodly people, and I think whatever it is that you have out for me is more than enough. Leave them alone, okay?

The only times I even feel remotely connected to you anymore are during the smallest hours. When I am walking and wandering in the night, headphones set to stun, with the Atlantic Ocean as a backdrop. There are fleeting moments during these meanderings where it feels like old times; memories flooding into my subconscious mind like the connection is wide open again. Remembering my ability to rise above and overcome. Feeling invincible, yet remaining humble within your womb. During these moments, I am almost always close to tears, because I miss the intimacy and closeness of our relationship much more than you could ever realize.

This is having a major impact on my other relationships, Universe. Because we’re so distant, I cannot seem to allow myself to get close to anyone or anything lately. Maybe it’s the usual fear of abandonment shit I drag behind me like Linus (can you fucking blame me, after all the rugs that have been yanked out from under my feet?), I don’t know for sure. But I do know that it’s becoming more and more likely that I will turn into some drier and much more celibate version of Henry Chinaski if things keep rolling this way. Nobody wants to be friends, or “intimate”(do I need to spell that out for you?) with the guy who cannot connect. Nobody wants to hang out with the guy who can’t make any kind of commitment to anything other than the unknown.

I’m not sure if or even how we’re going to be able to reconcile this mess we’re in, Universe. I know that there’s a part of me that’s hollow now; a space that you used to occupy is empty and in need of filling. I used to believe in you without the smallest shadow of doubt, yet here I am writing you an open letter on the interweb like a jilted teenager. Placing not only blame at your feet, but also my disdain. You broke my fucking heart, and you continue to do so on an almost daily basis. You’ve taken away from me almost as much as you’ve given me over the years, and you’ve done it all very quickly and methodically.

This is me, throwing up my hands and begging you to slow your roll. Begging you to give me some room to breathe and recover who I am underneath all of this rubble. This is me asking you to maybe let up a little bit and allow me to find some answers before the next Big Letdown happens, so that the next one doesn’t push me over the edge into the well of insanity that I’ve been dancing on for a while now. This is me asking you from the tiniest portions of my broken fucking heart…for a reprieve.

After all we’ve been through Universe, it’s the least that you could do for me.

Sorry if there was some anger in this letter, but I can’t hold stuff in all the time – it’ll kill me. I don’t want to be some Emergency Room casualty because I kept all of my anger in until my heart bursts at the seams (that’s just not how this story is supposed to end). I’m also sorry if I gripe too much – I’ll work on that.

I hope this letter finds a good place in you, and we can figure out some way to work through and salvage our relationship, Universe. It’ll be worth it if we can. For both of us.

Be well,



Filed under i used to be stupid, jealous insecurities, nuggets of infinite wisdom, recycled posts from literati messiah, sean likes to curse and use italics, who is sean?

9 responses to “Busload Of Faith, or, "Be Careful What You Wish For, You Just Might Get It"

  1. Philly Boy Gabe

    Sean, I have/had a good friend who is “Straightedge” (I think that’s what he called himself). Sober, vegan, tattooed, etc. (Facebook has fucked up my sense of who is a “current friend”.)

    And when I first met him, he told me he didn’t drink, do drugs, etc. But to look at him I thought “Hmm, must have been pretty fucked up.” And that was about that. I did judge him. But now I don’t.

    I’m telling you this because I think in many circles it does seem to go against the grain NOT to “party” with drugs and alcohol. But I can also tell you that as I got to know my friend, it stopped being something about him that raised an eyebrow. It’s who he is, it’s a choice he made, and stands by. And it was wierd to me at first because it was different. And I judged him by it. But like most friendships that you get deeply invested in, the initial judgement is just that. Initial.

    Good friends are worth it, sober or fucked up. Bad friends are a waste of time, sober or fucked up.

    Hope you continue to find more, and deeper friendships out there.

  2. Ty

    Life really is quite short. I figure I’m probably a little past mid-point and it’s really easy to look back on 20 years like it was yesterday. So the next 20 will be like the blink of an eye.

    That’s a mindfuck there. One day circa 1988 you’re walking the quad in college, the next you’re typing in the comments in a coffee house in 2010. Then you’re dead.

    And what have you? Breadcrumbs, if you’re lucky. Or you’re just another text-only, small type obituary in the local paper.

    Yes, the Grand Universe. We are but specks of dust’s dust in the scheme.

    If we can’t enjoy this ride, they we aren’t respecting everything we’ve been given.

    Thank you for this post.

    WV: toplod

  3. Sean

    @PBG – Thanks, Gabe. I am working really hard on trusting my instincts more when it comes to people – I have this bad habit of ignoring red flags when I first see them, because I have this silly notion inside of me that a lot of people (myself included) are usually a little insecure in the beginnings of things, so what you initially see might not be what you get from people in the long run. And I totally agree on the bad/good, sober/fucked up tip – good people are good people, irrespective of all of the other trappings that come along with it. My beef is probably more about something inside of myself, to be honest. Like I said – I’m working on it. The daily goal is to be the best Sean I can be, which is hopefully a better Sean than I was the day before.

    @Ty – I definitely know what you mean about The Mindfuck. It feels like just yesterday you sent me a DM on Twitter. Now? Now it feels like I’ve known you since before my balls dropped. And yes – let’s enjoy this ride, shall we? Thank you for being my friend, Don Guru.

  4. Robin Madel

    I’ts Newton’s 3rd Law of Motion. You’re changing things up and that’s changing things up.

    It’s always interesting to see what comes up when you take away a form of self-medication. For me bad diet is definitely a self-medication and a big fuck you to the world. The more forms of self-medication that you don’t have anymore the more you have to deal with you and I think the more you realize how everything is connected in your life.

    It’s nice to see you constantly figuring out your self with respect to the universe and vice versa, Sean, even if I only get to see it thorugh your words here.

    No lie…my WV was doyersh

  5. yerktoader

    I don’t even drink that much, generally because I’m poor. But when I do, it’s usually either a couple with dinner/before bed, or drunk. Not much in between.

    And I’ve seen and experienced that weirdness people get between the sober and the imbibers. My first experience was with a friend who was a recovering alcoholic, and I was mystified at how he could stay sober around his wife who drank doctor approved amounts of booze. I was mightily impressed.

    Since joining the Navy I’ve taken to alcohol quite a bit more, and my wife – the step-daughter of an alkie doctor – is none too happy about it.

    This post has me considering sobriety and I’ve never had a problem with drinking/drugs and work/life.

    P.S. I’m guessing this WV is a word game, but some of them are not words at all. What gives?

  6. @Robin – Thanks! I've definitely been feeling the effects of the New Health Thing across the board – and I agree with you as far as finding it "interesting' as to what might rise up in the absence of other negative things. I kind of enjoy the sense of discovery a little more now. I also agree 150% that everything is interconnected in some way.I blame Bruce Lee, Alan Watts, Jung, Castaneda, and a long list of other wizened sages for opening my dome up wide.Then again – I'm also the kind of cat who isn't ashamed to cop to my acute Apophenia.@YT – I didn't know you were currently in Uncle Sugar's Canoe Club. I just figured you did some side-work for them or something. I was a sailor my damn self. USS Nimitz(CNV-68) EOD Team, from '89-'93. Welcome aboard, sailor. I'll have someone check out your Liberty Card, and we can roll right on down into the berthing and play some spades.ANYWAYS…As far as your thoughts on getting off the hooch go – if you ever want to talk, my e-mail address is right there in the profile. Hell, if anyone reading this ever wants to talk – the same goes for all y'all.It's not an easy choice to make. I've written/rambled about it a lot – and I have file after file after file saved on this here geekbox filled with my ruminations on my alcohol/drug intake over the years, and the ripples and wakes that intake created. But it is nothing more than that – a choice. There are plenty of people in the world who can go out and have three drinks, and not have another one for a week. Me? Not so much. One drink led to thirty. At thirty, it was usually a pretty safe bet that I would either take off my pants on the subway, or start screaming at people in the middle of Avenue A. Like I said – choices. It's always about choices.Be good to you first, and from everything I've learned in this life? Good shit usually follows.

  7. Heheh, never heard Uncle Sugar's Canoe Club before, that's hilarious. But I'm done and now working for the man down at SPAWAR, did my time – uh, tour – from 04 to 08. I was on USS Pinckney(DDG-91) after IT(you'd know them as a blend of DP's and RM's) "A" school but I left a bit early for a Humanitarian Transfer after the wifey nearly died while I was living it up in Singapore. Went to NAVCOMTELSTA San Diego over on North Island for a few months until I transferred to NAVSTACIVILIAN. :DNever did play much spades tho, I totally suck at it as I've got the ADD-addled memory of a civ and you could replace my brains with spaghetti and get the same result. I did play a little tunk in A school which I was better at since it was more like rummy. No, we're in the modern age broseph, me and my shipmates got some funds from the ship for CAT-5 and switches and permission to run the cable through the monkeyshit about the decks for a crew served LAN. File sharing and HALO were our past times.I don't know what to say about the sauce. My lady is definitely too sensitive about the issue, but I can understand her discomfort up to a point. Part of my problem is that she used to be a lush and even introduced me to dive bars. So for her to be upset about whatever drinking I do is a little hypocritical considering she was my sifu of bar etiquette. There's a lot more to that story, but I'll save that for email.

  8. you know my story, no need to repeat it. i just really needed to read that today, at this moment. i've been struggling with the fact that my sobriety has left me with one true friend. that's all i need in the end. but, it is a major shock to the heart to discover when you HAVE to do something for yourself, 'friends' show their true colors – and were never your 'friends' at all. its been one hell of a journey for me as you well know – but as of 4.20.10 i have one year sober. its the only thing i've ever done 100 percent for myself. and the only thing i've ever done that i am truly proud of (other that monkey one and monkey two)… ❤ talk to you soon…

  9. Talk about resonating…I relate to this jumping of addiction…the pills to replace getting stoned to replace drinking to replace the pills…the problem often coming down to what you state at the beginning of this post: the emotional ache I'd be trying to fill. The one unanswered in the shifting from habit to habit.The disconnect…wow. I didn't see this until now but it is both comforting and unnervingly familiar.

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