Meeting The Man: James Baldwin in Paris

(via Mubi)

Sometimes we get off track.

That's O.K.

But never squash your opportunity to hop back on. This road is easy to see if we KNOW it. So if you find yourself lost, dedicate some time to slowing down and smelling the fucking rose. Take the time to learn. Who said you had to be anywhere else but where you are? Like the old saying goes: "You are what you eat". You will be miserable if all you want to see is misery.

Embrace the chance at life. Live.

I've noticed that people love to hurry. Meals are always quick, coffees are never savoured, glances are fleeting, conversations brief and it feels like this is becoming normal, that people only expect surface level and they only strive for surface level in all aspects of life. Mediocre coffee. Luke-warm love. Convenience. Because life is scary and when you sit with it long enough, and really listen to the silence, you notice what you're missing, and some of what we miss, we know we will never be able to find again.

Seyda Noir

My name is Calyx and I'm an addict.

That's always a great hook. Glad you're here. Sobriety is great, but I'm done with the bullshit. Here is my raw and unfiltered journey through sobriety, you're welcome to follow along.

I'm not exceptionally motivational, this shit is tough and I refuse to sugar coat. You should too. I hope I can convey something comprehensible, and that you might be able to take something away from my experience. Good luck!

January 28th, 2022. That's my sober date. But I loath dates, so I often forget it. It's written somewhere in my house, but I forget where that's at too. It's not for lack of care, or maybe it is. Im not perfect, but im sober. That sounds like a win for me. I was coming up on 3 years when I relapsed last. It was really a stupid sort of deal. Letting someone into your life should not be handled without care. Ask me, im an expert at doing the exact opposite. Magically, one aquaintance enticed me out of my delicately bubble wrapped box of sobriety and tempted a hunger that, for the most part, had been shoved under the bed amongst the old family photos, a long lost sock, and a disgusting population of dust bunnies. An hour before my relapse, my mind was TV static. Minutes before, my hands were tingly and going numb... my heart beat swelling in my face and burning through my skin. Seconds before, I can not recall. I was entirely consumed once again. Like a flash, nothing mattered more in that moment.

But the guilt! The shame! The self disappointment! Blah blah blah. Sometimes it's like visiting an old friend. The one that firmly grasped your hand when you you were drowning way back when, but afterwards wouldn't stop asking you to bend over so they could fuck you up the ass. (Sorry, I've never been a fan of the back door option - the front works just fine, thanks!) You don't know why you go back. You hate them. Yet, you do.

So, 3/9/2019 became 1/28/2022 in only a second. No big deal. Im not dead, yet. So I kept on trucking forward. Here I am, again...with a year and some change on me. Things are much different this time around, for what we could assume is for the better.

Check in for weekly thoughts/short stories/all that jazz, but don't get ahead of yourself. I'm an immediate gratification enthusiast, and I don't make habits of staying around anywhere for too long. Remember, don't panic!✌️

The worst part about anything that’s self-destructive is that it’s so intimate. You become so close with your addictions and illnesses that leaving them behind is like killing the part of yourself that taught you how to survive.