Friday: Try …
Sometimes TRY is what we have to do to survive. And not some simple try, but a gut wrenching, painful, walk through hell, TRY.
Try becomes something entirely different when faced with certain INCURABLE death.
Nobody except those of us who have had to TRY, understand this kind of effort, and what kind of mental and emotional energy we are putting forth to survive.
First World people don’t really know what TRY really means until they are standing on the firing line faced with their own mortality.
We are taught in the First World, as we grow up, that we must get an education, and graduate at the top of our classes, get a job, make a home, find a wife and pop out a few kids along the way.
This is not a TRY proposition. It is a societal YOU MUST DO THIS proposition. The notion of TRY is not even present. It is something we must do, as taught to us by our parents and society around us.
This is a DO proposition. And NOT a YODA “There is no TRY only DO” action.
An old-timer quoted YODA in the meeting tonight.
For those of us who grew up in the Star Wars years, we all know this character and his teachings. There are many who incorporated Star Wars into our lives, in one way or another.
Growing up in the home I grew up in, I was constantly TRYING to do the right thing, living with parents who called me a mistake and continually reminded me that I should never have been born. They still believe this, TO THIS DAY.
Imagine that kind of stress, when you are trying to grow up like your friends.
I tried. I did the best I could do, until the time came for me to go out into the world.
The man I listened to said; that in order to belong that I had to TRY his method of entry.
I had to TRY to walk into a bar, take a seat and have a couple of drinks. That if I tried this, it would guarantee me acceptance.
For years after, I kept TRYING and I kept FAILING.
Instead of acceptance, I ended up sunk in alcoholism.
The end game did come, this week, twenty-three years ago.
That last morning, sitting in a bar at 7 a.m. I tried one last time.
It might have been exciting for the few hours that TRY lasted, in the end, that action of TRY took me to the end game for which I ended up in.
I TRIED to fit in, to become one with all. That was a HUGE failure.
On the day that doctor said to me that “This is the end, kiss your ass goodbye, go home and prepare to die,” There was no more TRY for me.
This was the end.
It was good that I had a card up my sleeve, in hindsight.
I called Todd, and he came to me and said “NO you’re not gonna die, not on my watch.”
The very last TRY I attempted, I certainly TRIED to kill myself, because I was not going to die a miserable death like my friends. I was going to go out on my own terms.
Todd (read: GOD) had other plans.
He set me on a path of TRY that changed my life. And it saved my life.
Every night, as I walked into that bar, He asked me to TRY, just for that particular night, and every night after. He gave me the space to TRY, making mistakes all along the way. Every mistake ended up in a lesson about life.
Can you imagine what it felt like to know you were dying, watching your friends drop to their knees, drinking and drugging their way to their graves, and know what the end game looked like, but at the same time, you were floating just above the water, safe from that gut destruction, because someone who loved you asked you to just TRY.
You have no idea what that felt like. Nobody does, except those of us who survived that war of sickness and death.
First World humans who get life changing news from their doctors, face this same kind of threat. Some sickness can be cured. Some people do survive.
However, many do not.
A death sentence of sickness is the same across the board. But a sickness that has no drugs to cure it, nor doctors to treat it, and a system of healthcare that did not exist, even in the late 1990’s, is a totally different BEAST.
And First World humans were celebrating in the streets and in their churches, they were celebrating in huge numbers the fact that us FAGS were getting what we DESERVED.
That Hell was a real place, and we were on our ways there.
Imagine what that felt like.
I know what that felt like, because those words came out of my parents mouths.
Todd asked me to trust him and to just TRY.
I cannot begin to describe what that kind of TRY felt like. I can, but I know, my words fall on deaf ears, because First World Humans really don’t care about us.
I TRIED my way into survival. As long as Todd was there, monitoring my effort to TRY, it worked. But when he left, my TRY lost steam, because I did not know how to TRY on my own. I just did not know how to do it any more.
I went to meetings for a while, and I was trying to stay sober. I did as some asked of me, within the rooms. I was trying to build a home, and I did that.
On that night I was asked to TRY in a room, to share experience, strength and hope, with what I knew about Experience, Strength and Hope then, I did not know what that meant. Not like I know it today.
How do you try any longer, when sober men come to you and say that “We don’t condone your lifestyle and you need to go away and not come back,” How does one continue to try when people in the program turn you away and ask you to GO ???
Left to my own devices, I TRIED life on my own terms, on my OWN WILL, ALONE.
Cue the SLIP music.
In the last year of my drinking, Delusional as it was, I was right back in the mix of “In order to belong, you’re gonna have to drink your way in.”
You really cannot TRY in a black out.
When I got to my bitter end, the only thing I could do was to PRAY.
At least I was still alive to pray.
God listened to my prayers. He sent the answer to my prayer.
I had returned to healthy TRY once again.
I sure as shit could not trust myself to do anything right. ALONE.
One step at a time, one day at a time, I tried to stay sober. I listened to people talk. I listened to books being read to me, because I could not really read them myself.
Gifts from God began to come to me and I ended up moving to Montreal.
A New Life was on the horizon. For the first time in my life, with the right people in my life and the right advice, I tried every day.
Fifteen and a half years later, I am still TRYING.
The past year has been TRYING on me emotionally.
And I learned the hard way, what TRY really means to sober people who claim to be sober, yet walk away when the tough gets going.
Many people did NOT TRY to help me. They did not TRY at all.
My friends walked away, because their limited perceptions were, LIMITED.
I am not perfect, yet I TRY, every day.
I have one friend, here in Montreal, who challenges me quite forcefully. A week does not go by, without him giving me certain advice about my TRY.
My best friend, who lives in Ottawa, is the only friend I have who tries, every day, to be part of my life.
NONE of my other friends TRY like He does.
But, If I go to a meeting, there, they try. They don’t TRY very hard, outside of the room.
I talked to a good friend of mine tonight, that I had not seen in a while. I told him, how TRYING life has been on me, and that I was still his friend, and that he can rely on me.
He knows I am trying my best to be the best version of ME. Today …
I am still alive today because I believe in TRY.
TRY works. So if you are on the fence with something in your life:
All you got to do is Let Go, and Let God, and you gotta just TRY.
This entry was posted on July 7, 2017 by Jeremiah Andrews. It was filed under New Beginnings and was tagged with AIDS, All About Me, Death and Dying, Fellowship, Friends, Sobriety, The Quality of TRY, TRY.