Sunday, December 22, 2013
Christmas. Less than 72 hours. My 66th Christmas on earth in the physical plane. Rather fucked up skeletal system from neck to feet is an inheritance. Where does that come from? Five years clean and sober now; six years from Angle Inn trailer park and the beginning of this, my eighth, life in this cycle of Harry Michael Freeman. Christmas is exactly the same this year clean five years as it was after using five years. Clean...Using... Christmas is the same. That is a sad statement. Six months now since I stopped smoking. No tobacco at all for six months; this is a first in 55 years. If I can resurrect from drugs and alcohol a second time, if I can quit smoking then I should be able to conquer my inability to function in society. I go to seven NA meetings per week and have no one to talk to. I am accepting that I am alone because I am supposed to be alone and will be alone; the only person who may have been able to own me is dead; now I cannot belong to anyone. Blessed is he who is alone. If he uses that solitude according to its true purpose.