So I'm 17 years sober today...

[stillcool]

and very much alone with myself and all the ghosts of my past. The people I knew, the places I went, the things I experienced. The violence. The constant starting over, and reinventing. The choices I didn't see, the dance of shame, blame, and guilt. The camaraderie of the birds of my feather flocking together. I ask myself did I love anyone? Did I even know anyone? What we shared was the holes in our soul. We were all runaways. Are they still alive? The first love, a Vietnam war vet with a heroin addiction, in and out of jail. The second love, a bi-sexual man painfully conflicted about his own self indentity, and dying..in a very real way, to belong. The third a black man living in a black and white world, a foot planted in each and in neither.
And then came sobriety and the clash with reality. Families that never were. The rapes. The impossible conflict of being a little girl and a depository for sperm. Seeking always to be a sexual being and a woman with self-worth. The gay friends, having the added burden of desperately trying to find a way to deny their truth. Our stories were all so very different, but the emotions were the same. And oh how we laughed, as we discussed our wayward pasts. The bizarreness of our lives. And even different ideas about killing ourselves without making a mess. I celebrate this day and cherish them all. I did love and I did know each and every one of them.