Episode 44: Into The Jaws Of Death

THE ANGEL OF MERCY (but like, you know, not in a religious way…)!!! MY BEAUTIFUL LOVERS!!! Olivia talks about addiction in her sexy voice…. GOLF!!! SCOTTISH TARTANS!!! TRUE NORTH!!! Gratitude. Holding space. RULES FOR BEING A HUMAN BEING!!! MORE Gratitude. HONOR!!! DUTY!!! DEMONS!!! Faith. Hope. PLEASURE!!! Trauma responses!!! ROCK BOTTOM!!! Thank you & goodnight. 

Excerpt:

“And in a very sharp turn from last weeks R Rated off radio special…

Alright well, it happens sometimes, that I don’t want to do this show. I’m feeling like procrastinating or knitting or checking out of reality for a little while. Not that there is anything necessarily wrong with that, I mean a healthy dose of an epsom salt bath and New Girl can reset the nervous system pretty quickly. 

But the real problem here, is that I’ve expended a whole lot of energy in the last two weeks. And I’m thoroughly exhausted. And I don’t mean like, ohh take a freaking nap already kind of exhausted. I’m like a soul weary traveler of the Wild West. 

I’m a sitcom character flopping onto a bed face first out of sheer spentness. 

And I have to say… From that state, it’s very hard to feel sexy, or sensual or excited about literally anything at all. Which one of my lovers noted by saying to me later this week, “Just let me know when you’re ready to hear all about it, I know you must be exhausted right now.” 

And my other amazing lover holding so much space while we try to figure out vacation plans, MY ANXIETY, covid tests, safety and emotional capacity. And folks, really all I can take away from my entirely virtual love life this week is that I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I MANAGED TO FIND SUCH KIND CARING OPEN COMMUNICATIVE HUMANS. Wow am I lucky! 

But, well, this week my love life definitely did not take center stage. Sometime else entirely did. Something I don’t talk about often. This week I had to try to help save someone’s life. Occasionally I am called to hold a container open for suffering. And as a sober member of this community. It is my honor, my duty and my life’s work, to do just that. And also to remember that first things come first. And before everything comes my own sobriety, of mind body and spirit. Of course. So this week I spent most of my week in the belly of the metaphorical demon. Battling the beast we know as addiction. Not my own, but someone else’s. The key here is not to think of it as much like a war, but instead as a dance. Between listening, comforting, radical honesty, boundaries, space holding, diving in, and coming up for air and levity. Now I know what your thinking, well that sounds an awful lot like a metaphor for good sex. And you're not wrong… So I prepared myself to square off with with the depths of another person’s addiction. And I went in. The last resort. The last desperate call, was to me. I could not have been more honored. “The Angel of Mercy,” as they called me. And, often, mercy is truth. The truth will set you free. The truth puts you, however hard your hands are shaking, however vehemently your body wants to give out on you, it puts you on solid ground. I have learned this the hard way in my life. Harder than most. And I have stared into the jaws of death and lived to tell the tale. As will this human before me. Because at the end of the day, no matter what the situation, we are all just walking beside each other, ideally leading each other home. And as Sheila Hite, one of my favorite goddesses of the divine days, “If you are going to be free, start by being honest.”

And what better a place to start than from rock bottom. Few, yet many of us in this world are GIFTED with a rock bottom. And I always remind someone standing in front of me, with nothing left to lose. That it is a place of exceptional power. We are stripped bare, of everything, except truth. 

And in that place, in the place of surrender, we reclaim our power by speaking our truth. 

And then we can begin the real work, of finding the tools to pull ourselves out of that pit.

There is a story told, that illustrates this pit perfectly. So imagine that you are an addict, and in the bottom of a pit of addiction (a literal pit). And above you, your friends walk by, and say, “Why don’t you just get yourself out of there?! Come on! We know you are better than this.” But you’re like, “DUDE, do you see how deep this pit is? No way I’m ever getting out of here!” So they walk on. And your family walks by above you, and they shout into the pit, “We love you! Come on out and make a better life for yourself! For us, can’t you do that?” And you’re like, “I don’t have a ladder or any rope! How do I get out?” And so they keep walking. And a religious person comes, and sees you in the pit, they say, “My child, I will pray for you.” And your like, “Well heck! No one’s thought of that before! Have at it. That ain’t gonna do me no good,” And finally, another addict walks by the pit… and jumps in with you. And you’re like, “DUDAE WHAT ARE YOU DOING! There’s no way out! Can’t you see that! Now we’re both trapped here!” And the other addict holds out their hand and says,

“Yes there is, let me show you.” 

And the only thing you have to do, is be honest, and tell me how you got here. 

I think that story speaks for itself. 

Robin Williams, has a brilliant comedy bit from early in his career I think. Where he’s basically ripping on golf, and how it was invented by the Scotts, and what a ridiculous sport it is. And as a proud Scottish lass of the Murdoch clan, yes we even have a tartan (that’s a specific plaid that signifies the family line)… I will wholeheartedly concur that golf is the most ridiculous sport ever invented, anyways at the end of his rant he says, “And then we’ll put a little flag in the hole at the end, just ta give ya hOpe.” 

And as we watched Robin Williams, we laughed and laughed. Because, well, we were laughing. And there was a little flag at the end, just to give them hOpe. It was me, I was the little flag. Hi, you’re Here. I can tell you, that if you get sober, and face this all, it will be the bravest thing you have ever done, and you will be ok eventually. As long as you keep going to meetings, and seeing some mental health professionals, and talking to other addicts. I’ve done it, and so can you. 

Here take my little flag of hope, it’s yours now: to carry with you into rehab. Into hopefully, a better life. 

And that’s what I did, that’s all I did. I sat with someone and talked, and made food and kept them alive for another couple of days. One moment at a time. 

And I remembered one or two, vitally important things. That we are all merely passing ships through the oceans of life. And nothing that they do is within my power or control, but I can sit and listen, I can give someone a hard talking to, and I can hold a lot more space than most. And sometimes all that victory looks like is watching them eat a bowl of my chicken and wild rice soup; the first thing they’ve eaten in 2 and a half weeks, and arguably the most nourishing thing in the world. And then another, and another. And knowing. That in the depths of the grasp of addiction, one bowl of soup, can literally mean the difference between life and death. 

Rehab or a hospital.

And we take so much of this life for granted.

So savor your life, hug the people that you love, breathe in deep and listen. And remember that genius and madness walk hand in had, and that at the end of the day all we can ever hope for is that we did our best and lived to tell the tale. And first and foremost, you aren’t going to be able to help anyone else, until you are able to first help yourself. So don’t run away from the work, or the darkness inside of you.

Learn to embrace it.

Learn to work with it.

So that when you get the call.

You can be ready,

to stand with them in theirs. 

So here’s some music I’ve been listening to, because it reminded me that a year and a half ago, I was barely alive, and this was some of the music keeping me here.”