I Love Mondays

I’ve committed to blog daily during this “year to live” and so I’m typing when I really would love to be sleeping. Sleep finally came after 4am this morning. Busy brian. Spud stayed out here last night so I got up and took him back to Birmingham. He’s been a godsend during this time in Alabama and I’m so grateful for his friendship. My friends have gotten me through what has been a very difficult time. Also, my phone conversations with other veterans continues to be a great help. Even when the calls are about “my helping them,” I always come away feeling like I’ve at least gotten as much help out of the interaction if not more.

I’m still sober but so tired right now it feels as though I’m coming off a binge. I really pray for a good night’s sleep tonight. One thing I love about Monday’s is that feels like a fresh start and I intend to dive back into the action items toward my goals with renewed vigor when I awaken tomorrow morning— hopefully it’s after 0500. One of the biggest areas of opportunity for growth is the beginning of each day. Santino suggested meditation and I know from experience that it makes a huge difference after only a couple of days of disciplined practice. The trick is to keep going. He’s certainly not the first to suggest it but his love and support from afar as meant a lot to me and I take what he says to heart. It’s sixteen days until my move back to New York and I can tell you that I’m walking through inordinate amounts of fear. I believe that God has been at work in this process in ways that I don’t yet fully (or may never) understand and I don’t believe God brought me this far to drop me. I’ll be okay in New York. I just have to live mindfully and keep a watch out for divine signposts and angels. I know that I’m talented and I know that I have abilities that are peculiar to me with regard to my art, my activism, and my veterans’ advocacy. I’m willing to work. I’m willing to keep trying. And I’m willing to not to have to wait until I’m feeling better to keep marching forward. The Marine Corps may not have given me that (I “marched forward” many times in live through a lot of pain before I ever stepped onto the yellow footprints) but it certainly forged the fiery ore of my experience up to that point—and adding it to the experience that my service as a Marine added to all that— into an unbendable steel. Sometimes, when I’m so tired and feeling so beat down, it’s hard to lift the blade.

I’m grateful for how hard this process has been. They tell me it will make the victory taste all the sweeter. I think of that day and it gives me strength for each next step.

See y’all tomorrow.