St. Joseph on my dashboard...
With my partner John and I headed to Chicago, the final days of his tenure as "editor in chief" of an international magazine based here in Dallas have found us at a barrage of farewell dinners and happy hours in his honor.
I am always fascinated when everyone places a drink order and I order a mineral water, the inevitable question of "Why aren't you drinking?" will be put to me before the night's end. The good, old reliable: "I don't drink." usually follows and the subject is dropped. Sometimes folks who haven't seen me in a while automatically order me a beer and it's always amusing to see John rise from his chair to volunteer: "Oh, Matt's not drinking." John has seen me through some very dark nights and mornings and knows better. But an even greater thing is "I" know better.
I had an interesting conversation with my former partner Greg the night Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans and parts of the Gulf Coast. I had not spoken to him in almost a year. We were on the phone for almost an hour about the hurricane and drifted on to the subject of "us." I will go into more detail about this phone call in a later posting. Greg and I never had an "ending," just a sad fading, a drift of sorts out of each other's lives. "Matt, I was just tired." Greg remarked about our end. He was referring to the endless rollercoaster of emotions I had him riding at the height of my addiction. I sometimes viewed Greg as a passenger in an "out of control" car in which I was the driver, he paralyzed to take the wheel, powerless to intervene. But was it his place?
At the beginning of this year I hit rock bottom, but found the strength to do this amazing "about face." I cut off everyone but John and his family. I was very candid with John's folks. They were incredibly supportive and never judged. They only hugged, kissed and supported. "Just as John is our son, so are you." they offered. I tried not to dwell on all my losses, but focus on reclaiming the "old" me. Here I am seven months later and the transformation has been wonderful. I am that gregarious, happy, confident person I was back in 2000.
"So how do you handle being in a bar around all this alcohol?" I am sometimes asked. Actually it's more of a challenge being around those who have had one too many. For me, it's an "in your face" reality check that alcohol will never again have a place in my life, ever. Last year, me and my wonderful father, a former alcoholic, sat in my brother's den on "Father's Day" and watched as the rest of my family lounged by the pool drinking Margaritas. Daddy had to sit inside as the New Orlean's heat and humidity took a toll on his breathing. I was visiting from Dallas and he related how hard it had become to do simple things. He never complained, but it did annoy him when my mom had a few too many.
Right before Hurricane Katrina, I began a Catholic Novena to St. Joseph. I prayed for three things: Some much needed closure with Greg (in any form), to be reunited with my family (on speaking terms), and that in all the positive changes I had made, continued guidance to a new destiny. The nine day novena ended the day before Katrina struck and the power of prayer was never more evident:
As mentioned above, I called Greg and was lucky to catch him at home alone after which a very candid conversation took place. I learned that Greg is in a new place, a place I have to respect with his new partner. Our 10 years together and our sad ending in 2003 have to be dealt with "each to his corner." Although this need for silence is sad, it is necessary in order for each to heal. It is only a testament of how much we loved and continue to love each other. I think we both look forward to the day we can sit across from each other, laughing together as friends. Thank you St. Joseph!
My brother David, Mom and my sister evacuated to Texas staying with my sister's partner! In a series of phone calls I found them and they were only 20 minutes away! I'll never forget the initial, tearful phone call to my brother David. My silence was abuptly ended (in the right time as I had prayed.) I feel closer to my family more than ever. Thank you St. Joseph!
John and I are headed to a new destiny in Chicago. I have felt change coming in the past months. It's been more than intuition, almost like there have been "divine" road signs placed in front of me. I know only good waits there for us, that I can be a strong, supportive partner on this new path. Thank you St. Joseph!
I was with John and group of our friends at Wrigley Field watching a Chicago Cubs game last month. We had bleacher seats in the outfield. One of John's friends confessed: "Matt, I'm so proud of you. You look and sound great." This friend was a Katrina evacuee staying with one of John's friends in Chicago. This friend worked at one of the bars in the French Quarter and had seen me in my alcohol soaked days. "I wish I could quit." he admitted. Just then, It started to rain. "C'mon, let's get some shelter." I told him. One storm at a time, that's how I live my life now. Well that and St. Joseph on my dashboard.
I am always fascinated when everyone places a drink order and I order a mineral water, the inevitable question of "Why aren't you drinking?" will be put to me before the night's end. The good, old reliable: "I don't drink." usually follows and the subject is dropped. Sometimes folks who haven't seen me in a while automatically order me a beer and it's always amusing to see John rise from his chair to volunteer: "Oh, Matt's not drinking." John has seen me through some very dark nights and mornings and knows better. But an even greater thing is "I" know better.
I had an interesting conversation with my former partner Greg the night Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans and parts of the Gulf Coast. I had not spoken to him in almost a year. We were on the phone for almost an hour about the hurricane and drifted on to the subject of "us." I will go into more detail about this phone call in a later posting. Greg and I never had an "ending," just a sad fading, a drift of sorts out of each other's lives. "Matt, I was just tired." Greg remarked about our end. He was referring to the endless rollercoaster of emotions I had him riding at the height of my addiction. I sometimes viewed Greg as a passenger in an "out of control" car in which I was the driver, he paralyzed to take the wheel, powerless to intervene. But was it his place?
At the beginning of this year I hit rock bottom, but found the strength to do this amazing "about face." I cut off everyone but John and his family. I was very candid with John's folks. They were incredibly supportive and never judged. They only hugged, kissed and supported. "Just as John is our son, so are you." they offered. I tried not to dwell on all my losses, but focus on reclaiming the "old" me. Here I am seven months later and the transformation has been wonderful. I am that gregarious, happy, confident person I was back in 2000.
"So how do you handle being in a bar around all this alcohol?" I am sometimes asked. Actually it's more of a challenge being around those who have had one too many. For me, it's an "in your face" reality check that alcohol will never again have a place in my life, ever. Last year, me and my wonderful father, a former alcoholic, sat in my brother's den on "Father's Day" and watched as the rest of my family lounged by the pool drinking Margaritas. Daddy had to sit inside as the New Orlean's heat and humidity took a toll on his breathing. I was visiting from Dallas and he related how hard it had become to do simple things. He never complained, but it did annoy him when my mom had a few too many.
Right before Hurricane Katrina, I began a Catholic Novena to St. Joseph. I prayed for three things: Some much needed closure with Greg (in any form), to be reunited with my family (on speaking terms), and that in all the positive changes I had made, continued guidance to a new destiny. The nine day novena ended the day before Katrina struck and the power of prayer was never more evident:
As mentioned above, I called Greg and was lucky to catch him at home alone after which a very candid conversation took place. I learned that Greg is in a new place, a place I have to respect with his new partner. Our 10 years together and our sad ending in 2003 have to be dealt with "each to his corner." Although this need for silence is sad, it is necessary in order for each to heal. It is only a testament of how much we loved and continue to love each other. I think we both look forward to the day we can sit across from each other, laughing together as friends. Thank you St. Joseph!
My brother David, Mom and my sister evacuated to Texas staying with my sister's partner! In a series of phone calls I found them and they were only 20 minutes away! I'll never forget the initial, tearful phone call to my brother David. My silence was abuptly ended (in the right time as I had prayed.) I feel closer to my family more than ever. Thank you St. Joseph!
John and I are headed to a new destiny in Chicago. I have felt change coming in the past months. It's been more than intuition, almost like there have been "divine" road signs placed in front of me. I know only good waits there for us, that I can be a strong, supportive partner on this new path. Thank you St. Joseph!
I was with John and group of our friends at Wrigley Field watching a Chicago Cubs game last month. We had bleacher seats in the outfield. One of John's friends confessed: "Matt, I'm so proud of you. You look and sound great." This friend was a Katrina evacuee staying with one of John's friends in Chicago. This friend worked at one of the bars in the French Quarter and had seen me in my alcohol soaked days. "I wish I could quit." he admitted. Just then, It started to rain. "C'mon, let's get some shelter." I told him. One storm at a time, that's how I live my life now. Well that and St. Joseph on my dashboard.
posted by Matthew Cortez at 10/25/2005 09:23:00 AM
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