moderndavetherapy

[moderndavetherapy]

An Addict in an Attic

I'm an addict

in an attic.

And ya see,

it's problematic.

For what I desire,

I cannot acquire.

Can't even inquire,

as I preach to the choir.

I'm an addict

in an attic.

With no plans,

I'm erratic.

My need was to seize her.

To control like I'm Cesar.

Took pain from a disease or,

what had felt like a seizure.

I'm an addict

in an attic.

I'm like Anne,

my no's Semitic.

For all I had seen,

was a dispiriting scene.

From my words utterly obscene,

til the final empty magazine.

I'm an addict

in an attic.

For nothing good

lasts forever.

[moderndavetherapy]

AA

"Hi. My name's David and I'm an alcoholic."

To be one-hundred percent real, I never thought I would openly and honestly admit these words. As scummy as it sounds, the only reason I had ever thought about even attending one of these meetings was to prey upon the weak and find a new customer. With that being said, I want to clarify that I am not hustling anything and just wanted to be honest about my past. So why did I choose today to go? Why not go after my DUI? Why not go the morning after a horrendous night where I probably should've ended the night in a jail cell? Why this particular day?

I slept in this morning after a late night of taking loss after loss playing rocket league. I didn't even drink last night. As a matter of fact, it's almost been a week. I felt guilty about missing my roommates gender reveal party. It's actually the second one I've missed, at least I'm consistent. I also just finished watching the series Shameless. I resonate with Lip, a highly intelligent, yet stubborn individual that tends to self-sabatoge himself over the course of the series. Maybe that's why I find myself hoping the best for him. I've danced around the idea for weeks, maybe even months now. I still don't even see myself as an alcoholic, as in I need to drink to survive. I think I'm more of an alcoholic that tends to get to that blackout phase to release emotions and feelings that have been bottled up.

I scrolled through my phone looking for the closest meeting within the next few hours and gathered enough energy to start my day. After an egg white delight and a coffee, I drove to the meeting site and let my mind do what it does best, wander and wonder.

I'm a sucker for the spotlight. I may not be the best public speaker, but I love the mic in my hands. I pondered fake scenarios of giving my first speech all of which began, "Hi, my name's David and I'm an alcoholic." Which deep passage of my past would I share? At what point would I engage in emotion and let the tears roll down my cheeks? What method would I use to expand my talking time, when the bell rang signifying my four minutes were up?

As I walked in the room, my perspective changed completely. I assumed the air would reek of foul odors coming from humans that didn't have daily access to showers or soap. I assumed the coffee to be bland and bitter if not instant. I assumed to be surrounded by homeless or criminals, but to my surprise everyone was just like me. Everything had changed.

The meeting began with the recitation of the Serenity Prayer. I glanced at the wall, slowly reading the words aloud attempting to match the pace of others around me. I felt like the autistic kid in the room, reading slightly faster or slower, with my nerves making me feel like a moron. I hate feeling like an idiot.

I'm not gonna lie, emotions ran vividly and spread like a cancer throughout my body. I was actually nervous. No liquid courage. No happy pills. No pick-me-ups. The speaker stated, "We would like to welcome any newcomers to this organization. Is this anyone's first time today?" A bald gentleman wearing a tattered white shirt abruptly rose his right hand and I followed suit shortly after. After a brief exchange of words I struggled saying, "Hi, I'm David and I'm an alcoholic. This is my first AA meeting ever." After the stuttering words fell out of my mouth I noticed every eye in the room had shifted and glanced in my direction. The room was filled with smiles and a slow clap gradually was performed if I had just put on the infamous green jacket after sinking a birdie putt on 18 to win the Masters. I started to feel a sense of comfort. Fuck, maybe I have been a dirtbag this whole time.

After what I assumed the routine motions were, a clean-cut gentleman opened a plastic container and gained the attention of the room. "Will anyone with twenty-four hours of sobriety please come accept this chip!" Half the room turned their heads and looked in my direction. I could feel the man sitting closest to me, his gaze said, "Go ahead son. Go get that chip and be proud of your accomplishments!" I hesitantly stood up, but gathered the courage to walk and accept my chip. I felt bad about taking it. I hadn't had alcohol in six days, but I was still a little stoned from the night before. I took a few bong rips last night, but I wasn't going to let the others know that. I knew I was sober from alcohol, so I embraced the chip with acceptance. I shook the man's hand, but I felt like the crowd was expecting a hug.

After other chips were passed out, the main speaker took the stage and exclaimed, "Now, would any of our chip holders like to share today?" For the third time, all eyes shifted in my direction and I had no words to share. I knew I had the tongue of a silver fox, but I didn't want to lie today. I didn't want to entertain or bullshit some story. I didn't want to let my words use their magic and charm. I quietly blurted out, "Can I let some others go first and learn from them?"

Individuals across the room of all ages and genders began sharing their recent experiences. All of which began, "Hi, I'm "blank" and I'm an alcoholic." Some had been sober for a month, while others had been sober for thirty plus years. I found a calming sensation in listening to their tales and resonating with their stories. I soon gathered enough courage to raise my hand and share my thoughts.

I didn't have any feelings of conjuring up an emotional novel to get the approval of others. I didn't have any intention of competing with others to see whose rock bottom was the most shallow. I didn't have any purpose of delivering a suspenseful speech that would go down as a motivational masterpiece alongside of Martin Luther King Jr. I spoke from the heart and it felt great.

"Hi, my name's David and I'm an alcoholic. I came here today, because I am tired of self-sabatoging myself and hurting loved ones. I have a problem with alcohol, control, and my emotions. In my past, I've noticed that my lack of control with alcohol has led to exploding outbursts of emotions that hurt me and the people I care about most. I know I'm a perfectionist and I'll never be perfect, but I just want to be a better me." The words didn't flow like water, but stumbled like a drunk. I held back my tears, but most could sense my genuineness. Everyone could tell in my tone that I wanted a change in my life. It didn't matter that other could, but most importantly I could tell.

As the meeting progressed and others shared their insights, my shoulders began feeling lighter. Some, not all, but some weight had been lifted. Don't get me wrong, my mind was still wandering like a tourist on the strip for their first time in Vegas. "How am I going to not drink, when my job is to market and grow Guinness sales? Can I drink non-alcoholic beers and still be following the twelve steps? If I sample the beer, but spit it out afterwords, does that still count against me?" I had more questions and technicalities than the Roe vs Wade court hearing. I let all of those flee from my mind and I focused on the present moment. As the meeting was adjourned, the man beside me approached me and said, "We gotta get you a book now."

I walked towards the front of the room and saw a small hand-written sign, "Alcoholics Anonymous $12." He asked me, "You got $12 on you?" I had an old ten dollar bill in my pocket and that was it. I technically wasn't lying, so I shook my head from left to right a few times. The older gentlemen pulled out his wallet and graciously paid for a hard-covered book for me. Now I'm obligated to read it.

That man sat down with me and we chatted for an hour. We shared stories of our past, he gave me a better understanding of the purpose of the group, and tasked me with a brief reading. He emphasized a goal of 90 meetings in 90 days. Last but not least, he wrote down his phone number and name in my book and informed me, "please call if you're ever about to drink and need someone to talk to."

I took a step in the right direction today. I still don't think I'm an alcoholic, but I'm happy with my decision to attend a meeting. It wasn't picture perfect, but it's one step closer on the road back to me.

[moderndavetherapy]

All In Or Out

I waited patiently in the drive-thru, sitting in the passenger seat of a lifted pick-up. I gazed in awe at the organized assembly line staring at their all-white shirts and unique-looking caps. I had never been to an In & Out, but I heard all of the rave. I'm not as boujee as some foodies, but I do get pretty ecstatic when trying new things. There was a chance I was about the try the best burger of my life.

"Goose...Goose...Goose! Take the food!" I suddenly snapped out of the delicious daydream and slurped up the drool from my bottom lip as my landlord passed me two boxes of burgers and fries.

I was used to devouring fast food in cars before I arrived home. The guy I was with was I little peculiar though. He had been through more divorces than most and had the patience of the second grader. Before moving in with him, I knew I needed to be on my A game behavior and not piss him off.

Regardless of his uptightness, I survived the ride home and felt like a child on Christmas Eve waiting to open up presents. I prepared my dipping sauces and sprinkled some salt and pepper over my fries. I opened wide like I was at the dentist's office and took a large chunk out of the double-double. I took my grand old time savoring the flavor to see if the hype was real.

I noticed a funky flavor that I was not fond of. I used to be picky eater, but my palate had developed exponentially after my childhood. Mustard. I even ordered the burger without mustard. As I dissected my dinner, I couldn't even find a splash of yellow anywhere. I pinched off a piece of beef and carefully tasted every single seasoning. Mustard seed. I found the culprit.

Despite my dislike of mustard, along with the disappointment of their simple bland french fries, I'll end my hate speech on In & Out. I'll even say it's a solid late night snack. But my real Ted Talk is about being all in or all out...

I don't have a medium switch. It's almost if there are only two settings. My batteries are either on their last life or full of juice. The air conditioning is either blasting freezing cold or barely working at all. There's no half full. half empty, fifty-percent; it's all or nothing.

This one has been eating my alive for most of my life. The worst part is making the same mistake over and over again. I've realized that a lot of this stems from emotions. As simple as it sounds, I have not had the leisure of controlling them the best. The worst part is a majority of the time I regulate them too much. I withhold emotions at times to maintain a role. It's not healthy. I've withheld my emotions, because the addies took them away. I've hid my emotions to hide my vulnerability, and that one hurts the most.

With all of this build up and stored energy, I'm just a ticking-time bomb waiting to explode. It's not a substance or alcohol issue, well it is, but it's everything. From working, to gambling, working out, reading, laughing, and loving. I'm like a teeter-totter that can never find an equilibrium, always living on polar opposite ends. Living on the poles of the earth has led to a roller coaster life of happy highs and depressing lows. The emotional void and trips of turmoil have finally hit a road block and something must be done.

The awareness is a huge step, but there's still miles to travel. It's painful not being able to watch a sports game thinking, "I can't enjoy this without betting." It's depressing pondering, "I can't go out tonight, because there's a chance I won't stop drinking." It's embarrassing not being able to reach out, because "I'm working on myself or becoming a better me."

Just like food, we are learning what we like and don't like. I am learning what I can do and cannot. Rather than take the cold turkey approach at life and ride the emotional roller coaster, I've learned to slowly integrate and find peace in it. This all or none has led to nothing but despair. I know I won't be perfect along the way, especially at the sports book, but we are human after all. I've learned to go to NFL games without betting, bars with only have two drinks, allowing myself some cheat meals, and practice this thing they call "balance."

Here's to control and finding that medium setting.

[moderndavetherapy]

Perfection

Remember Covid?

The whole world shifted and life as we knew it changed with the introduction of this new virus. Wearing masks, cashing stimulus checks, and getting furloughed was the new status quo. The impact Covid had upon society was just as big if not bigger than it had on an individual person. Take that it in....

Covid-19. The latest plague that could weaken your well-being, take away your taste, ruin your respiratory system, and lose your life. Not only could you be killed, but you were guaranteed to be changed at a minimum. The way it altered society was off the charts. Schooling, working, grocery shopping, eating, and simply living were all affected in a negative way. From being deemed vital to finding out you lost your career were two sides of a coin flip that even the most degenerate bettors couldn't quench.

Even though we live in an era filled with scientific and technological advancements beyond the average brain, the human race just can't seem to dodge or dismantle physical and mental illness. These cancers and curses spread like a wildfire, burning up the entire family tree making it its destiny to reach your soul. Three cups of asthma, half a cup of depression, one teaspoon of hypertension and a dash of bipolar is the recipe for one David carbonara.

Lately, theres been one "bug" thats been doing more destruction than Hitler during Nazi Germany. That would be the infection of perfection...

There's got to be at least one asshole thinking, "I can't wait to hear about this privileged white fool's first world problem of not getting the CEO promotion or getting a new Tesla cyber truck in the wrong color." Touche', but hear me out...

Somewhere during the times when I was wee lad, we got a few things twisted and I've been tangled ever since. Ma always said, "Just do your best and everything will be alright." From exquisite performances across all avenues of my life: piano recitals, baseball diamonds, classrooms, laboratories, and damn near everywhere I've been, success has been found with an absence of happiness.

I remember being twelve years old walking away from my favorite place on earth, the little league baseball field. I thought there was a chance I'd be on Sportscenter the next day, after a starstruck performance of going 3-3, 3 HR 6RBI. The ugliest part about the statline was we didn't win the game. As I walked towards my mom's grey honda civic with my three homerun balls in hand, all I could think about was what I could have done different to change the outcome of the game. Instead of celebrating the best game of my life, I played out thousands of scenarios from separate timelines in which the win would've been obtained.

Alright alright, instead of reliving some childhood memories let's take a look at something a little more recent. I took my last job in the cannabis industry as an extraction technician. Essentially my job was to transform flower into various concentrates and my motto was, "Fire in, fire out." I remember my first run, tightening the bolts of a steel column that I just filled with fresh frozen material. My new boss gave me the standard parameters for their system, but I had some other ideas in mind. I'll never forget the liquid gold that poured like honey out of the collection column into the glass baking sheet. I found my favorite metal spatula and started whipping the eventual badder, imagining I was on Hell's Kitchen being watched by Gordon Ramsey. After all post processing was completed and all solvents were purged, it turned into a waiting games as the testing facility diagnosed the samples to determine the results. After four days, I was called into the lab director's office and was interrogated like I was on trial. After learning I had produced one of the best products the company had every seen (one that won the 2020 Jack Herer Cup for Best Sativa Concentrate) I spent more time focusing on the flaws, rather the success. I ignored the obscenely high terpene and THC % results and complained about the slight dryness of the product. Instead of accepting the praise and compliments from coworkers, all that ran through my mind was what could be perfected.

I get it, to some, it may some come off like I'm bitching about minor imperfections. Some kids never get to play organized sports and some adults never get a choice in the careers. That's not the point I'm trying to make. There have been numerous success stories of my life that have resulted in dismay, due to misconstruing trying my best for perfection.

As kids, we are urged to shoot for the stars and strive for greatness. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. My favorite athlete is and always will be Kobe Bryant. He didn't win every championship, or even make every clutch shot, but I love him most for his work ethic and mentality. Kobe once said, "I was chasing perfection and excellence, even though I knew I will probably never catch it." I can understand that nobody is or ever will be perfect, but I struggle with accepting it.

Something still hasn't fully clicked between understanding and accepting. I'm not trying to defy gravity or take over the world, but I can't help but think I could've done better in every situation. This nightmare in my overanalytical mind, that runs like Usain Bolt, has led to countless sleepless nights. These sleepless nights allow the infection to spread like a cancer that slowly deteriorates my dreams. It's almost a paradox in itself. Why strive for perfection, when it can never be obtained? Why practice a craft that can never be perfected? The answer is plain and simple...because we can.

The infection of perfection has slowly loosened its' grip upon my throat and I've been able to let out a gasp of relief. I'm not only embracing, but ACCEPTING, that one can perform their best and still make countless mistakes. Most importantly...ITS ALRIGHT! It's fine to keep up with hobbies and activities that you enjoy doing, even if you're not very good at them. We are slowly getting in the habit of being happy knowing that I did everything I could, even if the results are not what we desire. I can go to sleep in peace at night, knowing I didn't execute perfectly. The infection of perfection has enabled me to put forth extraordinary efforts and a work ethic that cannot be learned. I am thankful for that aspect.

Chasing perfection can lead one to new heights and even make the world a better place. Imagine the world without Steve Jobs or Stanley Kubrick. This mindset allowed these two to reach new levels of success. As I've learned more about who I am, I know I will continue the never-ending chase of perfection...

The only difference is that I will now acknowledge my flaws and simply move past them in acceptance, rather than dwell in a fictitious reality I've deemed the Infection of Perfection.

[moderndavetherapy]

Changes

The epitome of life.

One of the most feared, yet yearned actions we humans face habitually.

My favorite Tupac song, even if he ripped it from Bruce Hornsby and the Range.

Before I go down the rabbit hole and dive deep beneath the surface that has been null and void, lets get a few things straight...

The sole point of this blog is to naturally convey the endless thoughts that occur in my mind in an organized fashion that helps me express myself and that others may relate to or enjoy.

The primary reason for creating a blog and posting is to remain disciplined. Yes, I could simply write in a journal or tell myself that I'll write five-hundred words two times a week, but lets face it... by the second week I'll be cheating myself and burning $2.99 on a porous pile and papers bound by sticky tape from Walmart.

In a universe where more people are familiar with ChatGPT and Love Island than a foreign language or the seven wonders of the world, I strive to bring back raw journalism to help others use their brains to think clearly for themselves and ponder common thoughts.

Lastly, in an era of Artificial Intelligence, the common practice of reading and writing has been reduced significantly to a point in which I feel the need enhance my writing skills before I turn into a drooling mongoloid with the vocabulary skills of a toddler.

Alright my actual last point, the words I write are not intended to target any specific person, gain followers, or acquire likes by any means. If you're still reading this, I'm sure I lost a few people by now, and actually find pleasure or peace from my insight...then the least I can do is say thank you. This blog is not for anyone, but myself. However, I am always willing to share ideas, laughs, stories and bond with others on this journey to a better self. I appreciate your support!

So, without further ado, welcome to ModernDaveTherapy! A fresh look at life's common conundrums in an utterly raw fashion.

As I sit by my kitchen island and reflect upon my last day of work, I stare down and notice my chewed up fingernails graciously glide across the keyboard clicking and clacking like a jazzy tap dancer in the roaring 20s. It didn't make sense to me, but I immediately fixated on a small insecurity, rather than vast changes that are about to alter my life. The simple thought of a perfect fingernail conquered all other thoughts from changing jobs, to changing living arrangements, to changing self-sabotaging intoxicating actions into disciplined routine of self-growth, all in a matter of seconds. In this very moment, I became vulnerable to the unknown future and acquired a heaping dose of determination to not bite my fingernails...as pathetic as that might sound.

Enough with all the bullshit. I truly believe that the beauty of change resides in the journey of new discovery or the path in which we take to purposely develop a better self or situation. It's immaculate to watch the leaves alter their colors in the midst of autumn, right before they die to the harshness of winter. Let's be realistic though, some us live in the desert and find our life of leaves being pummeled by the 120 degree summer heat that forces a much more antagonistic change than the previous fairy tale. No matter which method of madness may occur, one thing will always stay true... There is always something to learn from every action, no matter the significance.

I reminisced upon my time working at a beverage distributor, engaging in a never-ending battle between the positive glorious memories of happiness and bliss being bogged down by the calamity of corporate culture creating chaos and a lack of control. I started questioning my decision of CHANGE, wondering if something new was worth the so called habitual routine I have endured the past 18 months. Rather than weigh the pros and cons, my mind immediately transported me to my previous occupation. One of the last times I was forced to CHANGE.

Before I CHANGED into a beverage sales rep, I was a scam artist in a cult. My apologies, I sold private health insurance to people that either couldn't afford it or probably weren't healthy enough to acquire the plan. I began my day around 3:45AM every morning with a breakfast of white lines and prescription pills, followed by a shower and a Jimmy Dean Egg White Delight. After robotically calling hundreds of people and spamming their phone with several texts from multiple phones, it was time to refuel for lunch. I binged on fast food, nose nachos, and amphetamines to prep me for another grueling afternoon of begging innocent individuals for their banking and routing information.

I endured twelve months of this paradoxical prison before questioning my own reality. It all began with a simple CHANGE of thought. A minuscule thought developed into a series of small CHANGES that eventually led into what I felt was freedom. Before I knew it, the shackles had abandoned me and the CHANGES I decided upon granted me with a new life.

As I shifted back to this very present moment, I easily recognized the importance of change. Without change, we leave no room for growth and learning. Every change in my life has resulted in something resourceful, even if it has been painful in the process. Changing locations across country, career paths across industries, hobbies and even homies; has created this adventure called life and led me one step closer to understanding who the fuck I actually am.

The debate of pondering if I made the right decision concluded rapidly. The fear of change abruptly disappeared. The recollection of past perfection transduced into a simple message, "Nothing lasts forever, but more will readily come." I immediately embraced the changes that the future held, knowing that I was ready for a new adventure and that it was time to move on.

I think it's funny to fear change. It's easy to get lost in the depths of contentment, but as time endures it transforms into anguish. As the peace of reality slowly turns to turmoil, a change must be made. After all has been learned and growth has been stunted, a change must be made. When boredom strikes, a change must be made.

As I glanced back at my fingertips I glared at the imperfections. The callous cuticles overtook my thoughts one last time. Instead of dwelling on the flaws of past actions, I decided to embrace change and learn from previous mistakes. By taking a different path, I should end up in a different place. Who knows, maybe in a month I'll have fingernails and actually have a use for nail trimmer or clipper or whatever its fucking called.

Most people don't like change, but that's normal. The sooner change is embraced, the sooner the fear leaves. It's not easy, but it's inevitable. I think this new job is gonna be just fine.