Month: April 2011

I used to think that if there was a G-d, He had no interest in me, that no matter what I did or didn’t do, life went on the same. I would feel the same. My discomfort or comfort was not related to anything other than what was done to me or wasn’t done for me. I was exposed to the idea of G-d at an early age. I even went to a private school for several years, after that I went to night classes to learn about G-d. There were a few problems with that. First of all, I wasn’t ready to accept the idea of G-d and secondly, it was pushed on me who G-d was.

When I got a bit older I decided there was no G-d.

I’m not sure if that was due to me thinking it was cool to not believe or if I honestly just didn’t believe. I was one of those people who said “If there is a G-d, why did He let my parents break up? Why does he allow people to get molested or starve to death? Why are there AIDS and cancer and other diseases if there is a G-d?” It just didn’t make sense to me. I was exposed to a lifestyle at an early age that I still feel I was too young to be exposed to. I was convinced that there was no G-d or He wouldn’t have let that happen.

That said, when I got heavily involved in the drink and drugs and crime and hopelessness, I always prayed for a way out when, and only when I needed a way out. When I hadn’t eaten in days but I couldn’t stop shitting water. When I would be hunched over the toilet and a stream of vomit would connect the toilet water to my mouth and I didn’t have the strength to spit it out. When I would hallucinate from lack of sleep. When the police pulled me over. When I was broke and needed dope. These are the times I would pray. And the prayers didn’t work…or maybe they did looking back.

So I trudged on through life…miserable and alone. Fighting the rest of the population, either in my head or literally. I can promise you that there is nothing joyous about a life like that. I hated everyone. My family was the last thing I wanted. Everyone pissed me off. The only time I would even want to speak to my parents was when I wanted something.

Then I got word I had a son on the way.

I tried to get better through reaching out to G-d. It worked. It will always work. I didn’t stay connected because I turned my back on G-d. I did me.

Tomorrow I will be spending the entire day at the hospital and a specialist’s office. Only I’m not going for me. My 4 month old son developed something called torticollis. This caused him to only be able to sleep on one side for the first few months he’s been alive. His skull is still soft so it ended up being flat on one side from only being able to sleep on one side. He has gone through physical therapy. He has seen doctor’s far too many times. He needs to have a helmet fitted tomorrow that he has to wear for 23 hours a day for 4 to 6 months…minimum. He also was showing signs of a possible brain concern. I had to take him to a pediatric neurologist. The neurologist said he needed to have an MRI. So tomorrow we’ll be in the hospital doing that for around 4 hours.

He needs to be sedated for the procedure.

He will be out of my sight during the MRI, unconscious.

I’m not sharing this for sympathy, I assure you. I’m sharing this because today, I know what G-d can do. I’m telling you this because my prayers are answered today. I know that my baby will be fine. Not because this is a simple procedure, which it is but anytime someone tells you as a parent your son may have a brain concern, needs to be put under with drugs and there isn’t really a choice in the matter, but because I have seen the Power of G-d. I don’t believe for one second that something will go wrong.

But…

…if something did happen to go wrong, I know that everything will be fine. That G-d hasn’t given me anything I can’t handle, and He’s not about to start now.

I’m on my way to pick up a Western Union I manipulated my grandmother into sending me. The same woman that put her life on hold every summer to look after my brother and I. The same woman that already raised three children of her own. The same woman that made sure my clothes were clean, my stomach was full, my life was good. I lied to her. I basically stole from her. I used her. She is an absolute angel, and I took advantage of her. I needed the money though. I needed to get dope. I needed to get a bottle. I needed to get cocaine and crack. I never once considered that she needed to buy herself food. That she needed medicine. That she needed to pay bills.

On my way to get the money my heart races. My palms sweat. It’s almost like the overwhelming illness I was suffering from moments before calling her was gone. Almost. But then I get the money. The woman behind the counter looks me up and down. My clothes are dirty. My sleeves stained with dried blood. My lip blistered. Fingernails caked with ashes. She asks me for my ID. I give it to her, corners torn, heroin and cocaine residue wedged in between the layers. I sign the 3 spots she tells me to, 2 on the front and the check itself and I’m out. I run to my car. The only white person in sight. I stick out like a sore thumb. I travel 6 blocks and park. I hop out in an area anyone with any sense would never travel through and if they did, they would most certainly lock their doors. I bop up the street behind an abandoned row of houses and cop my shit.

I don’t travel far before I pull over and mix it up. The anticipation is powerful. It’s like the world stopped spinning. The noise from the traffic is silenced. The streets are empty. I can barely hold my hands steady from the excitement. Nothing, absolutely nothing else in this world matters besides me getting it in. I no longer care about my family, my safety, my freedom, my health…nothing else matters. I can only concentrate on my drugs.

I push the plunger down and feel that relief.

Today, when I left work I had some traffic to fight. I also had to get a haircut and buy some shorts and shirts for my 9 year old. My 4 month old needed gear as well. I needed to get myself some pants and at least one new work shirt. The thing is, I wasn’t willing to go out of my way to get myself clothes because it would’ve taken too long. So I went to TJ Max or Ross, whatever it was and got my kids some gear and looked briefly for something for myself, which I couldn’t find. I spent a decent amount of cash on their stuff and rolled out. Quickly got a hair cut…

…and felt that same anticipation I had when I was on my way to get that money and those drugs. It was like I had blinders on again. Only I wasn’t focused on anything bad. I was just as excited to get to my two sons. I noticed how similar the feeling was to getting high when I was sick. It was the most important thing in the world. And when I kissed my oldest son, and hugged him…and when I picked up my baby and carried him…it was comparable to pushing down that plunger. Only way more rewarding. And trust me, that’s saying a lot. I felt how soft my baby’s hair was as it brushed up against my chin. I kissed his forehead and he giggled. And the world stopped. I heard nothing but that giggle. I filled up with love. Unless you’re a parent you can never understand this feeling. It is without a doubt the greatest feeling I have experienced to date.

The work day was over with. My “problems” were non existent. Nothing else mattered except those two little boys. My life today is something I never thought I would have. I am so fucking grateful.