With what I’ve been through in life, you’d think I’d have learned by now.
But no, I’m just as susceptible to fear and anxiety as anyone. Probably not as much as some of you–for whom it appears peace is an illusion with fear constantly raining down–but rest assured, I can turn it up pretty good sometimes.
And every time I find myself in a rut when worry and anxiety ride my tinnitus like a highway to my brain, I beat myself up for not being true enough to the things that got me this far. For not remembering.
You see, the most faith and peace I’ve ever known was when I had nothing.
I was living in the basement of a guy’s house I’d only known a few days. I had no money, no friends, two pairs of underwear and socks, a pair of shoes, and the clothes on my back. I was freshly sober from a divine intervention at a point in my life when I was convinced I had no reason to live.
And yet, somehow, in the bowels of an old house in North Jersey, I found the kind of peace that people dream of.
I don’t know how long this lasted, a few months I suppose. But during that time it was like one miracle after another. I was walking on clouds.
For example, one night after a day when all I had eaten was a bagel at an AA meeting that morning, someone came by to take the owner of the house out for dinner. But that guy wasn’t home, and so he took me instead. And paid for it. I slept hard that night.
The faith I had during those early days of recovery was beyond anything I’ve felt since. I had nothing but absolutely trusted that God was going to somehow come through if I did the things necessary to get my house in order. The thinking was that my will had gotten me to death’s door, what did I have to lose by turning it over to this benevolent (they said), omnipotent force? But that’s what I did. As crazy as that sounds. So I worked hard, I listened and shared at AA meetings, and I got down on my knees every day and asked for His will to be done.
And I was constantly rewarded for it.
The rewards started small and appeared at a steady, just not fast pace. In God’s time, people would tell me. I bought it.
In the first couple of months of asking for God’s will to guide me, I earned my driver’s license after having it revoked years before for a DUI. I started driving a taxi in Newark and busted my ass doing it, nearly getting shot a couple times in the process. I bought new clothes. I began paying rent to the guy who let me live in his house. And most importantly, I started to understand that a life without alcohol was not some death sentence.
I had nothing. I feared nothing. I expected miracles. And miracles came.
I graduated from driving a cab to working in the mailroom of a big law firm, where I met my future wife on the first day. I got an apartment on my own. I bought a car and paid for insurance. I started going to night school toward a degree that I was certain I’d never reach, but I was doing the work and believed that hard work and faith was all I needed.
Twenty-six years later not only am I still alive, but I’ve also exceeded my expectations in terms of a full life.
I have a wife. A house. A college degree. A career as a writer. Two beautiful daughters. The best friends of my life. I even wrote a f*cking novel, are you kidding me?
But over time, my relationship with God has changed as much as my life. And not in a good way.
It’s strange and ironic. Yes, I still get on my knees, and I still believe that everything works out in God’s time as long as I am honest to myself and people around me—and I continue to “do the work.” But man, in spite of the miracle that is my life, there are times when faith is hard to remember. Days when fear sneaks up and bips me in the balls. It’s hard to be grateful for that, you know? But that’s exactly what I have to do—continue to show gratitude. I mean, I used to be homeless and suicidal. This is better.
***
The night that Hurricane Maria ravaged Puerto Rico, I laid in bed thinking about all of my problems. About how things aren’t moving as fast as I’d like with my business, my side projects, and my writing. About how money has never really been plentiful for us despite all this hard work. About I need to lose ten pounds to feel comfortable. About how my teenage daughters don’t need me around much anymore. Fear was playing tennis in my mind.
But then I thought about the hurricane, and the fact I was laying in a warm bed, in a safe and dry house, next to a beautiful woman who loved me.
And I felt ashamed for my wavering faith. Who the fuck am I to worry?
I have a reference point to a much different life. But the farther away that life gets, the farther I’ve strayed from the kind of faith that has worked miracles in my life. That said, to have any faith in this age of fear should be worth something, ammirite?
Years after my epiphany, during a time when I was jamming 3 years of credits into 10 months in order to graduate, I was a Literature major in college. That’s when I discovered Walt Whitman. Whitman talked a lot about God. And faith. One such passage from Leaves of Grass came to me the night of the hurricane as I laid in bed worrying about my life:
I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen,
anywhere, at any time, is provided for, in
the inherences of things.
Before going away to write my novel Minor King, which is essentially a book about faith, I took to the bible to better understand teachings on the idea of faith. That’s when I stumbled across the book of Matthew. Chapter six was particularly resonant because of my life story:
31 So do not worry, saying, What shall we eat? or What shall we drink? or What shall we wear? 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
To this day, whenever I read this I get chills–and I’m immediately taken back to those early days of sobriety when I had nothing and yet was somehow filled with peace.
Everybody goes through rough patches. We’re all susceptible to fear.
Not everybody has a reference point to faith the way I do, however. I mean, I’m like the living, breathing poster child for faith. Who the hell am I to fear? And yet, all these years later, there are times when fear has its way with me and chaos fills my mind. And that’s pretty disappointing. But it is a good reminder that I’m human. And that I have to keep doing the work.
Something they told me early on in AA was that God wasn’t going to keep rewarding me for my faith only to lure me into a dark alley and beat the crap out of me. I believed it. I continue to believe it. I just wish I remembered it more often.
Today I have everything I ever dreamed of. It’s funny.
—
The Good Men Project is different from most media companies. We are a “participatory media company”—which means we don’t just have content you read and share and comment on but it means we have multiple ways you can actively be a part of the conversation. As you become a deeper part of the conversation—The Conversation No One Else is Having—you will learn all of the ways we support our Writers’ Community—community FB groups, weekly conference calls, classes in writing, editing platform building and How to Create Social Change.
◊♦◊
Here are more ways to become a part of The Good Men Project community:
Request to join our private Facebook Group for Writers—it’s like our virtual newsroom where you connect with editors and other writers about issues and ideas.
Click here to become a Premium Member of The Good Men Project Community. Have access to these benefits:
- Get access to an exclusive “Members Only” Group on Facebook
- Join our Social Interest Groups—weekly calls about topics of interest in today’s world
- View the website with no ads
- Get free access to classes, workshops, and exclusive events
- Be invited to an exclusive weekly “Call with the Publisher” with other Premium Members
- Commenting badge.
Are you stuck on what to write? Sign up for our Writing Prompts emails, you’ll get ideas directly from our editors every Monday and Thursday. If you already have a final draft, then click below to send your post through our submission system.
If you are already working with an editor at GMP, please be sure to name that person. If you are not currently working with a GMP editor, one will be assigned to you.
◊♦◊
Are you a first-time contributor to The Good Men Project? Submit here:
◊♦◊
Have you contributed before and have a Submittable account? Use our Quick Submit link here:
◊♦◊
Do you have previously published work that you would like to syndicate on The Good Men Project? Click here:
Join our exclusive weekly “Call with the Publisher” — where community members are encouraged to discuss the issues of the week, get story ideas, meet other members and get known for their ideas? To get the call-in information, either join as a member or wait until you get a post published with us. Here are some examples of what we talk about on the calls.
Want to learn practical skills about how to be a better Writer, Editor or Platform Builder? Want to be a Rising Star in Media? Want to learn how to Create Social Change? We have classes in all of those areas.
While you’re at it, get connected with our social media:
- To join our Facebook Page, go here.
- To sign up for our email newsletter, go here.
- To follow The Good Men Project on Twitter, go here.
◊♦◊
However, you engage with The Good Men Project—you can help lead this conversation about the changing roles of men in the 21st century. Join us!
◊♦◊
We have pioneered the largest worldwide conversation about what it means to be a good man in the 21st century. Your support of our work is inspiring and invaluable.
The Good Men Project is an Amazon.com affiliate. If you shop via THIS LINK, we will get a small commission and you will be supporting our Mission while still getting the quality products you would have purchased, anyway! Thank you for your continued support!
—
Originally posted on Obsessed With Conformity
—
Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash