For the first time in my lifetime—I think—I made the
newspaper for a good cause. I’ve been in the paper several times, usually in
the court dispositions section, or arrest records of the day, but never with a
picture.
In November, my mother and I published a book that we had
spent a lifespan living, and a few years writing. We humbly accepted help from
family and friends throughout the process to get it into its current formats,
and we published it and used social media to promote it. It didn’t take off,
and it still hasn’t. It’s okay, we kept our day jobs just in case so we won’t
end up homeless, unless we want to.
Over the span of time since publication, I have submitted a
press release, made several attempts of getting an interview with M.P.R, and sent
inquiries to several local and large newspapers in hopes of spreading the word
of the book, and the message within. And finally… success.
On Thursday while at work I received a call from the Hutchinson Leader
asking if I could talk a little about the book, the blog, and so forth. “Fuuuck
Yeah!” I said inside my head. I accommodated his request for an over-the-phone
interview due to inclement weather after work, and I pondered for the remainder
of my shift what I would say. This was a chance to share my story of recovery
with a large audience, and I didn’t want to screw it up, so I took a Gas-X pill
and came up with an idea of what I wanted to say.
Several hours later, when he actually called, none of the
conversations I had in my head earlier in the day were relevant as he simply
asked me a few questions and I gave long-winded answers on the spot. I hadn’t
considered that he may have an agenda, and probably wanted to hit on a few of
the finer points of the book/blog/life.
I was delighted to find that he had done some homework on me
by reading part of the book, and some of my blog, which threw me off just a bit
because I had to remember what he was referring to and give answers based on
what I had written in the past. I think I did well, and we actually continued
our conversation the next day at which point he took several pictures of me for
the article he would write later on. Fortunately, I had stopped at home after
work to freshen up for the photos, so I don’t look like a vagrant urchin in the
paper.
I wrote a while back that the feeling I got when I first
held the book in my hand was indescribable. I would like to update that feeling
to grateful, and the same appreciative emotion overcame me when I saw the article
in print today on the front page of the Leader. I had seen
the article online already, and read it over and over—not because it was
about me, but because I wanted to see if I had done right by my program in the
interview, and shown that recovery is an approachable, possible, object. The writing literally speaks for itself. Click
the link just above, and give it a read, then come back.
“The blog posts are
not unlike waves. They crest with grief, and they fall away to expose a silt of
resolution. The blog in its early life was a way for the two to correspond and
to process,” Writes Jack Hammett, the author of the article. I love that
paragraph, but it made me realize that I’ve missed out on writing about
something so important: the relationship between my mother and me.
I’ve spent so much time writing about how to do A.A. good,
and what to do in an emergency (find an adult), that I never paused to say,
even briefly, that my mother and I are no longer processing my former life. We
are healed, regarding my choices. I will speak only for myself for the rest of
this post, but I hope she would agree that we have the closest bond we’ve ever
had, aside perhaps, from my infancy and early dependence on breast milk. I
never stopped to note that the calls once fraught with tension are now filled
with laughter and confidence. Our visits now are comfortable, untimed, and we
don’t have to greet at a “hug rug.”
We don’t see each other every day, or even talk on the phone
frequently, but I would bet if you asked her, she isn’t worried about where I
am, if I have food, or if I’m going to be part of a terrible overdose
statistic. No, I try pretty damned hard to make her feel at ease with my
lifestyle, and this time, Mom, I’m in the newspaper for doing something good
(something we survived together!) for people who are still out there, looking
for the ones they love, not quite ready to throw in the towel.
Somebody out there is going through what we went through.
Somebody will read this article, and understand more than just the words on the
page. They will feel it, because they
are us. This is why we wrote the book, this is why we continue to try to get it
out there. We have come so far. We have arrived, and we are no longer broken.
