Before all my recovery friends start trying to ring my cell phone, I am not suicidal. I’m actually doing quite well at this moment.

But that title sure grabbed your attention, didn’t it?

Why did that title grab your attention so readily?

Perhaps it’s because that’s a question everybody has asked themselves at some point.  Like when the layoff notice hits the desk. Or when your supposed “love of a lifetime” serves you with the divorce petition and you suddenly have no family. Or when the local Sheriff shows up at your door step with foreclosure and eviction papers. Or when that once-in-a-generation recession hits and you lose everything but the shirt on your back. I’ve been through the first three, although being forced to move out of the family home into my own apartment didn’t require the Sheriff or foreclosure.

Let’s face it—generally speaking, we’re in unprecedented low times in our generation. We’re in times that are lately being compared to the Great Depression of the 1920s and 1930s, a time that only ended because the United States went to war. This time, unlike last time, the “contagion” has spread around the globe. Much of it is paying the price for the excesses we took when the economy was in much better circumstances. It’s not entirely the fault of politicians, so when laying the blame it helps to take a good look into the mirror as well as through the binoculars. Times like these, when the bills are piling up and the money in the checkbook doesn’t seem to pile anywhere near the stack of bills, it’s easy to ask the question. 

Some—like the father of one of my nieces—answered in the negative and ended his (Godspeed, Joseph). Others—like the new sweetheart of mine that I hope to be able to introduce to you sometime in the future—chose to hang on and keep moving, even though doing so involves a tremendous amount of emotional, physical, and spiritual pain. (Note, it is the general “policy” in this blog that I respect the privacy of those dear in my life, so no names or photos of that special individual here without consent).

This brings me to this question:  What would be the difference if we choose to hang on for just a bit longer?

If there is one thing that we try to hammer into the minds of people in recovery, it’s not to quit.  Hang on, because the breakthrough can be just around that next corner.  If you were to stop now just before it comes, what will you miss!

It turns out that if Joseph (true story, from what I know) would have waited a mere half hour more, and had his cell phone on his person instead of left in his truck, he would have gotten that call from his former boss offering him his old job back. Things would have turned around, but he missed out by mere minutes.  And to even begin to think of the friends and family that will miss him because of one selfish decision.

The first step to gaining back the peace, stability, and serenity we desperately seek is to accept the fact that sometimes life just sucks. It’s the nature of the fallen world we live in.  And you and I are imperfect, flawed human beings in the midst of that fallen world.  Nobody is completely perfect on this planet; there is not a single person on the face of this earth who will not disappoint or hurt us at some time, either intentionally or unintentionally. This is reality; when we can accept that it is, we finally stop beating ourselves up when things screw up. We accept ourselves as we are, but at the same time keep hope and drive to continue to grow and learn from mistakes.  Even better, we finally understand that the “power to grow and change” is outside ourselves.  In the end, it comes from the people we put around us who encourage us and challenge us, and it is the product of our faith.

Growth is the product of cherishing every sacred moment of life.  And every moment of life is sacred.

Anyone who has ever struggled with an addiction knows the meaning of “withdrawal.” It’s the usually unpleasant way that the body struggles to adjust itself when the addictive substance is cut off from it. We’ve heard of “the shakes,” “the sweats,” you name it.

Love is addictive, too—perhaps even in the same way as a narcotic drug. It’s emotionally addictive. And the withdrawal symptoms can be just as severe, just as painful. Withdrawal symptoms can include depression, anger, grief, sometimes even physical illness.

The past several months since the divorce have been the throes of withdrawal from 9½ years of living with that drug called “Love.” There have been a lot of symptoms: the grief of loss, the depression, the anger, the regret that maybe I didn’t do enough or did too much, the times of thinking “If I had only…”. There’s been the emotional—and perhaps physical—withdrawal from things like sex, intimacy, closeness. There is the desire to hole up in my own cave and never trust anyone with my emotions and self again.  I guess that is pretty much what I have done since then. “I Walk Alone”—the song makes perfect sense to me after the past several months.

From having tasted of the past 9½ years I’ve learned other things along the way.

I have many “online” and “virtual” friends thanks to social media and virtual world hangouts like Flickr®, Facebook, MySpace®, Second Life®, etc. The problem is that none of those relationships—as “real” as they may seem—can ever replace physical, face-to-face intimacy.  They can’t curl up and snuggle with you at night and keep you warm in bed. They are not hearts that you can rest your head on and relax to the sound of their beating at the end of a busy and stressful day, or when things aren’t right and you need a real shoulder to cry on and a real ear to listen to you.  They just can’t fill that void that was opened up in the loss of a real, physical, long-term, intimate relationship.

And perhaps this is my biggest regret.

But, like drug withdrawal, the symptoms do pass with time.  How long depends on how grateful I am for what I do have and for the opportunities that lie ahead, and how willing I am not to fall into the trap of withdrawing completely from other people.

I guess for me it may take longer than I thought.

Music has always been my escape. It’s like a medication. My emotions, moods, desires, motivations can change entirely upon a song playing in my iTunes, on the radio, or on a podcast or media stream.

I got to end my summer a few weeks ago on a rockin’ note by riding out to St. Petersburg to see two of my favorite bands from Finland—Nightwish and Sonata Arctica—play live in the Jannus Landing courtyard with about 1,200 screaming fans.

This apparently ended up being the last show of Nightwish’s U.S. tour, as new lead singer Anette Olzon became seriously ill and the remaining concerts on the tour ended up cancelled.

In the meantime, I downloaded from iTunes the solo début album from Nightwish’s original frontwoman, Tarja Turunen, entitled “My Winter Storm.” It’s definitely not Tuomas Holopainen-penned material (but then I’m sure a lot of Nightwish fans are replying that Anette is not Tarja), but there are some good points on this project, and it’s an overall good, although all-over-the-place, album if you can judge it on its own without trying to compare it to her time with Nightwish. It’s a departure from Nightwish. “Die Alive” is the highlight for me—a driving track with a toy-piano-style hook.

The version that’s available on iTunes is the “deluxe” version with some bonus tracks (23 tracks total) but without the DVD and video material that accompanies the physical package. Tarja has some work ahead of her, but she’s already got the fan base from Nightwish, and this album is a good start.