A Fistful of Future

Welcome Knuckleheads, to the always endearing, and sometimes insightful, view into the life of Knuckles. Today we take a journey into the mind, body, and soul that makes up the man behind the words. With all the vulgarity, abrasiveness, and crass behavior, it's hard to imagine that a man such as I is weak and vulnerable, but in the proceeding words, you will witness just that. The soft underbelly of the beast is about to be exposed.

I try and not pass judgment on friends and family, or just generally speaking, the ones I love. I accept them for their flaws, their ideals, their way of life, without so much as blinking at their demons...so long as they love me back in the same manner. I have an eclectic group of friends. From the potheads, to coke heads, to the booze hounds, and even the teetotalers. I love them all equally, as long as that love is returned. But, rarely did I ever look in the mirror to see if I was loving myself. Yes, I am cocky and confident, but it was a long hard look in the mirror that led me to realize that the love I possessed was only moving outward, and I had long forgotten how to love inward.

It's always good to start at the beginning, so let us begin there. In college, I was a machine. I was kickboxing, studying all my martial arts, had 2% body fat, and was eating upwards of 6 to 7,000 calories a day, and burning it off as soon as it hit my stomach. I didn't drink, smoke, or do any drugs. This was the first couple of years. Josh (my suite mate) would always tell me to "Let loose every now and then. Live life. You're always so uptight about your workouts and kickboxing.". I never listened in the beginning. Finally I broke down once at the Juke Joint, and had a Tom Collins (his drink of choice), and so began my social life. Ultimately, I believe it was me trying to make Josh happy. He was my best friend, and we were so alike, but when it came to our social lives, we were quite different. So, I feel it was me trying to please him, and be on common ground in all aspects of our lives. In the beginning I was doing double duty, and because I was in such good shape, I could still party at night, and still get up early and get my workouts in. 

Then, at some point, Josh and I had an argument before summer vacation. To this day, I can't remember what it was even about. But, he went home for the summer, and I stayed behind to attend summer school. Then, on June 27th, 1998, my phone rang. On the other end was Meredith, a mutual friend of Josh and I. She asked if I had read the paper, or anyone else had called me. My stomach dropped from my body, and I said "No. Why?". "Josh died in a car accident yesterday.". And, all I could do was say "Thank you." and hang up. 

I was distraught to say the least. Coupled with the guilt of not reaching out to say I was sorry for whatever we had argued about. No. I couldn't do that. I couldn't even tell him how much he meant to me, and how much I loved him. And, that's when I pounded a bottle of scotch to numb myself. Every sip in his honor. 

Fast forward to L.A. Where the drinks flow freely, and the lifestyle is Party All The Time (if you don't have your head screwed on right at least). Alcohol was available everywhere. And, I found it everywhere. By this point I had become a steady social butterfly. The curse of choosing the career of Actor had it's ups and downs. Without going into detail there, I will just say, it was Phase 2.

The following years were a rollercoaster. But, I found myself taking a drink when each hard time or trial came my way. It's how I dealt with all the rejection, and chaos. The pain of life was dealt more lightly when my brain was slightly numbed. Then after a heartbreaking breakup (albeit it amicable, and justified), I began swimming to the bottom of the bottle. 

So began the spiral. 

I never dealt with Josh's death the way I should have. I never dealt with my breakup the way I should have. I never dealt with stress....you guessed it...

So, I hid. 

The years to come were riddled with masks and mist. False confidence, and emotional turmoil. I no longer had the ability to cope with issues of life the way I should. I still fought for my dreams, and for love, but it took a backseat at times to my need to have a drink.

I had convinced myself that I was a classy drinker. Only scotch or martinis. But, it was still in abundance. 

Then I met a girl that didn't drink, and I began attempting to stop. When I would try, my body would literally shut down. Which, in turn brought on frustration and anger at myself, which in turn caused me to want to drown that feeling of inadequacy, and self hate, in the form of fire water.

I tried everything. Only drinking wine or beer. Nope. Only drinking when I was not at home. Nope. I tried stopping cold turkey so many times I lost count. But, nothing ever worked. Then, last year it started directly affecting my health. I would look in the mirror and see a shadow of my former self, and it disgusted me. What had happened to the powerful, determined, passionate, driven man that I had once been? I still knew how to "be" him...but, I no longer "was" him. 

Admitting there is something wrong, when you have been such a force to be reckoned with for so long, is disheartening to say the least. I believe the final straw was losing the love of my life, and my ideal apartment. I headed to California, where after a bit of a soul rattling, a great friend sat down with me and we discussed my future, my wants and needs, and what I wanted from life.

What happened next was the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. 

Rehab.

Not just ANY rehab. There were no perks, or bells and whistles at this facility. No. This was a Detox and Residential Treatment facility. 

I walked in, and almost like a prison they take away your phone, your shoestrings (along with anything else that has a string...including sweatshirts, and shorts), and process you. I looked around and saw plenty of broken souls. And, although 2 years before I would have said "I don't belong here!", I knew I was where I needed to be. 

Here I was entered into Detox. I was monitored every two hours (24 hours a day...so, I never got much sleep), and was given a strict regimen of pills. We were awake at 5:30am and were in meetings, therapy, discussion, and doctors until 8pm. I had my first seizure on the second day. My body was clearing out the poisons from my body, but the demon had it's claws in me so deeply, it didn't want to let go, and was willing to take me with it, if it had to die. So, I was now on heart medication, and had to wear a seizure risk bracelet. I was now wearing three bracelets. My intake bracelet, my Fall Risk bracelet, and my Seizure Risk bracelet. It was humbling to say the least.

My roommate was an amazing kid. Mario Vega. Kind, and understanding. He talked me through the process (he had been twice before), and kept me from panicking. The more I was there, the more I found out. It turns out that my triggers were based on anxiety, stress, and more so, clinical depression. 

I had never dealt with things the way I should have.

Leap to a couple of  minor heart attacks (luckily, not coupled with seizures), and my health started perking back up. I was becoming more insightful, and clear minded by the end of Detox. Yet, could tell no one of my success, due to the fact we had no phone access, nor internet, and no one knew where I was. 

Then, I was transferred to RTC. (Residential Treatment) A large house, with our own bedroom (albeit a hospital bed), and onsight nurses and counselors. We were due up at 6am to begin our chores. Then at 7am was our first A.A. meeting, followed by discussion and various other Intensive Treatment to help us get a handle on what needed to be done to correct what was broken in our lives. The meetings were intense. Usually with lots of tears, remorse, and humbling stories. We varied from the modest housewife that drank to escape the turmoil of a violent husband, to the meth addict that began to lose weight. All the while, looking deep inside ourselves to find where we had went wrong.

I likened my rebuilding to a pyramid: You can't build a pyramid without first building the foundation. Your first layer can't be built on matchsticks. No. It has to be the most solid layer, or else everything else comes crumbling down later. So, I began. Although we were supposed to be up at 6am, I was up at 5:30am, just to get my chores done early, and have a chance to read my Big Book. I attended every meeting. I never shirked duties, and I always picked up the slack of those that did. Usually the ones that weren't there of their own free will, and were forced there by a spouse, or a job. I went above and beyond in all facets, because I wanted it to stick. I took my pills, and followed all the guidelines. I felt my confidence coming back, and my mind becoming clear. Others started coming to me for assistance, or opinions on life. 

My swagger was slowly returning.

I had never felt so good since my early 20's. I was healthy, happy, and more level headed than I had been in years. Yet, still, no one knew where I was...so, I wasn't able to share my success.

Finally, I graduated...with honors nonetheless. I coined out and was given a diploma. Where, I then proceeded to reevaluate my life, and make adjustments. Made some inventory of my life's priorities, and stepped out the front doors into my Phoenix Rising life. (ironically, there was a liquor store across from the exit of the rehab facility)

So, here I sit, a reinvented man. Today is day 49 of being a teetotaler. I don't miss alcohol in the least. I don't miss the time, money, or love I have lost due to it. I have accounted for my wrong doings, and I have made adjustments to what is important to me. I fight for that peace of mind I mentioned, and I will continue down the right path. Career, love, self confidence, and drive are all the things I need to remain happy. 

Which, brings me to the revelation that the perception of me, isn't whom I always was. I have weakness the same as all others. I am breakable, and I am vulnerable. But, with a long look in the mirror, and good friends and loving people surrounding me/you...all things are possible. I am on the right path. The next chapter is going to be filled full of memorable moments. Whether they be struggles to keep negative things and people out of my life to prevent the stress, anxiety, and depression that could cause a relapse, or the struggles to dig myself out of the mindset I had dug for myself. 

Ultimately, this is how I feel now:

Life is, the sunlight that shines through your window in the morning. Be thankful there is a pane of glass separating you from the elements. Be thankful for the vision you have to be able to see the light as it dances from the window to every corner of the room you occupy. Be thankful for the feeling of warmth, and the soft kiss it gives your skin. Be thankful for for the walls that protect you. Be thankful for waking up.

I am thankful for so much in life now. Most of all, I am thankful for the love of friends and family. I am thankful for people that don't pass judgment and embrace me for choosing to better myself. I am thankful for my health, happiness, and my ability to have a future.

So, in finishing, I am starting anew. I now have to take medication to prevent heart, blood pressure, depression, and anxiety issues. I now read my Big Book when I feel weak. I now have made adjustments to my life to keep me on the right track. And, with the love and support of those around me, I will conquer all obstacles that appear, and embody me. 

I will bruise the world's ego with Knuckles. It will not keep me down.

Thank you all for your love and support. It was disheartening writing this...but, admitting one's flaws is not an unreasonable way to begin with my right foot forward, and giving myself a clear path to where I want to be. It's difficult to be as brutally honest as such, and exposing myself to the world, but to grow, I felt I needed to. Because, growing, is what I plan on doing. And, never hindering myself from doing so again.

Which, means this is the end, and beginning...

With all my love,

Knuckles