Hillen Prison Blues – I Feel the Fluids Rushing

March 29, 2012

I feel the fluids rushing

Up and down

And back

Up and down

My back

Spine

Light headed

Heavy hearted

Ears fuzzy disoriented

Vertigo

Bones crack every time

I move

Elbows

Knees

Hands

Feet

Fingers

Toes

FACE

My facial affliction

Nerves explode

Fireworks of the nerves

Side of my face

I seek relief

Scream in agonizing

Torture and terror

I chose

Sleep to

Escape

Forget

Awake

Remember

Impairment

Then depression

Sleep

Forget

I want to forget

I don’t want to sleep

I want to sleep

I love my sleep

But not much

My dreams are pleasant

And my reality is a

Nightmare

But

I’d rather have the bad dreams and the good life

“Sleep. Those little slices of Death. How I loathe them.” Edgar Allen Poe said.

 

“Sleep. Those little slices of pleasure. How I adore them.” Rich Hillen Jr said


Writing

July 9, 2011

Writing. I write even when I’m not writing. I have so many stories, ideas, blogs and books written in my head and a small portion of them are half or a quarter written on paper. Not paper. In Word documents. Unfinished thoughts, ideas, blogs, stories and novels. A writer writes all of the time. I used t write the way I thought and spoke. Now I speak and think the way I write. Sometimes my actual thoughts and spoken words use correct grammar and syntax more so than when I write.

 

Not everyone is a writer but everyone has a story worth writing. Everyone could be a writer. I believe everyone should write. Don’t be afraid. It’s just putting words in front of each other. Write what is on your mind. Write what happened. There are no rules. Some say that there are rules and a proper way to write. Blah.. Fuck grammar, syntax, spelling, punctuation and big words. If you can’t be creative then don’t. Just say it.

 

We all have live a rich life. Not always happy. Not always miserable but something worth writing about. Some of us struggle with day to day living and survival and it’s worth writing about. Some of us are happy and enjoy life with occasional struggles worth writing about. Right?

 

A lot of my friend send me poetry and prose that the usually keep to themselves and sometimes even hide away. These pieces of writings are some of the best I’ve ever read. I’ve published a few on my wordpress site and they even got more readers than I get. So much

 

Of all of the arts I’ve tried and even excelled at, writing is my favorite. Something about seeing what’s in my mind on paper or on a document or blog makes me happy and fulfilled no matter how bad I feel or what the topic is. I have this innate desire to share my thoughts and feelings as often as possible online and I enjoy positive and negative feedback. I am self-absorbed and like to be in charge. Writing is perfect for my ego. It satisfies my need for instant gratification. It’s one thing I can do without depending on other people. Complete control.

 

Whenever I get involved with projects whether it’s art, music or business partnerships I am the only one that has my heart in it and the others tend to fade out. They have their own dreams and lives to live. I can’t expect people to blindly follow my dreams and goals. So I write. I write. I write.

 

I may never be a best selling novelist or celebrated poet but I have people that read what I write. People like you. You must want to red what I have to say of you wouldn’t be reading this now. I guess there’s the partnership. There is also the completion of my writing. Once you read it my writing becomes more than just self indulgent self absorbed ramblings It is a complete work of art.

 

I thank you for that. I thank you for making me who I am today; A writer.


What is Your Problem??

December 28, 2010

Monday night. Monday nights were unlike any other night in my life for the last 19 years. I’m not supposed to break my anonymity but everyone that has read my blogs even semi-regularly or even knows me as a person knows that I go to AA. I have been going for over 19 years even during my relapse in 2008. The Monday night meeting has been my “home group” the entire time. A home group is that one place that a person commits to being there every week and takes responsibilities like setting up the room and making the coffee etc.

 

I rarely missed my Monday night home group until the past 4 months or so. Maybe more. I can’t remember. I started getting anxiety attacks really bad close to meeting time for several weeks in a row. Then I would find other excuses not to go. I would get sick or something. Even last night I should have been at my home group meeting and I had a bit of anxiety and depression then I had a bad allergy attack to top it off. I just discovered I have a shellfish allergy. I ate an egg roll without thinking tonight. My roommate has also been doing a lot of cleaning lately and I am allergic to every product he uses. I really appreciate the cleaning but I can’t breathe and my throat is closed up. I took some Benadryl and it worked but that wasn’t my point.

 

I love to go on tangents.

 

The point is that the anxiety and hesitance of going to my home group meeting has bled into the rest of the week and I rarely go to a meeting at all. I still pray and meditate and maintain a semi-spiritual state of mind but I’m not actively helping others in the way of going to meetings and sharing.

 

Of course this leads me to judgment on my recovery from alcohol and drugs and working the 12 steps. It’s a known fact that people with addictions like mine have little success on their own. Even though I feel like being alone most of the time, I rarely feel lonely. I am comfortable with where I am at despite the occasional anxiety attack. I pray every day. I am overall productive and creative with the various projects I am involved in.

 

I am ultra self-aware a lot of the times. I can’t figure out my aversion to going to meetings. I’m not consciously working the 12 steps but when I look at my life I am doing what’s in front of me and living a decent life doing the right thing.

 

Sometimes I rack my brain as to why I don’t want to go or get anxiety from the idea of going. I have a few concepts but they might not hold up in court. I thought it might be the increase in the number of people in the home group. It could be the girl I secretly like but won’t admit to myself or anyone else that it’s true.

 

I feel disconnection with the people I’ve known for years, Some I can even call family. It could be the recent return of an ex best friend after a close to a 5 year hiatus. I feel uncomfortable around him sometimes and he jumps right back into his role of “king” AA, which gets on my nerves.

 

 

I do force myself to go to a meeting every now and then but I either get anxiety or I get really bored with it. I get nothing out of it. Then again that describes many social situations for me lately except for the events that I have to be at. Most of the time anyway.

 

I’ve come to accept this new me. The loner. The isolator. The writer. I just have problems when it comes to going to meetings for some reason.

 

It could be that although I am comfortable with the new private me, I am not comfortable with the social me yet.

 

Maybe it’s not a problem at all and I am over analyzing like always. Maybe I’m just temporarily uncomfortable with going out and it will pass or maybe my new life is just that- “new” and I have to adjust and maybe I won’t go to meetings.

 

I still don’t drink and I still believe in the 12-step program as a way of life. I am living it in my own “loner” way.

 

I am positive that whatever the problem is that I will be fine. I will survive. (Cue Gloria Gaynor)

 


Acceptance is the Answer to myyyy…….. Blah!

December 16, 2010

“Life is great. My head’s a mess” I said when asked how I was doing by someone I haven’t seen in while.

He knew exactly what I was talking about. You see usually in the 12 step groups I go to people that are recovering usually say the opposite. Life is horrible but I’m doing well. I can handle life on life’s terms. So can I. I can’t handle my mind on my mind’s terms all of the time.

I’m a changed man. For better and for worse. A few years ago I went through some major mind altering changes. I was drugged for Psychiatric reasons and for physical reasons. I was in a horrible relationship that we both knew was horrible but kept fighting to stay with each other. As the relationship drew to an end and the drugs were affecting me more and more I turned into  recluse. I didn’t want to be bothered with anything or anybody. I went to work, I came home and wrote a bit then that was it. I ended up relapsing and gave up 16 years of sobriety. I hit bottom pretty fast emotionally and spiritually so I went t the people I knew could help me. I got help.

I was more than eager to change my life and people saw it. I got better in the emotional and spiritual sense but I remained a recluse. I soon moved back in with my parents for financial reasons and to help my ill adopted father. I always have to clarify that since I actively see my biological dad. That’s another story. My adopted father died the middle of last year and I stayed with my mother. Despite my sadness and increased anxiety at work and home I kept on writing and living. I found myself going out less and less.

This past year has been one of major growth and acceptance. My mind is still ut of control at times no matter what I feed it.

Long story short too late as an old friend used to say) I lost my job of 6 years, came into some money, finished and published my first novel, collected and republished my Serial Killer Coloring Book, moved out of my adopted mom’s into a 2 bedroom house with a friend, started a new business venture (http:novaboon.com) with my friend and housemate, I landed a high paying new job,  and just today there was an article in the Philadelphia City Paper about me and my evolution into a novelist. It was in reality a great year. I don’t always feel that great about it but the facts are the facts. I still get anxious, manic and depressed at times. I’ve grown a beard and my hair a bit to match my mood and it seems to fit. I’ve taken a liking to being alone. I am the opposite of everything I used to be.

I have also developed a slight agoraphobia. I have panic attacks when I go into public sometimes. It’s unpredictable but for some reason when I have to be somewhere like work or something I get by. It’s the social settings that get me, Then again I can get anxiety just sitting on the couch or driving my car.

I recently thought of something my adopted father once told me. “Learn to accept yourself. The good points and the bad things. Accept who you are.” He said. This is exactly what I am going through now. I am in the process of accepting myself for who I am right now. I am not the same person I used to be. I don’t care what people think for the most part.

“life is great and my head is a mess” but I have accepted myself for who I am anxious or not.

 


Nicole Died

August 4, 2010

I just found out that my cousin died. Well, she was my ex-cousin. Ex-cousin in-law technically. She was my cousin’s wife. They weren’t officially divorced so I don’t know what to refer to her as. At one time she was considered a friend. She was even my housemate briefly along with my cousin. I stayed in their house while I was down and out in 2003-2004. Weird. I just posted a story on wordpress.com that I wrote in 2004 about going to see the Cramps with her and my friend.

A little family history. When I was in my early 20’s I found my natural father who had left when I was 5 years old. I was quite the partier at the time. I drank a lot and I was always high. He introduced me to his sister. I guess I should say re-introduced me to her. She had around 10 years sober at the time. She told me about my Uncle and my grandmother dying of alcoholism. She was “planting the seed” in my head for when I was ready to get sober. Eventually I did.

Through  her I meet my 3 cousins. Joey. Patrick and Kelly Ann. We got along great but didn’t see each other much but when we did there was a strong bond there. It’s amazing to be so much like a person that you never see. It has to be the genes. I stayed in and out of contact through the years. The male cousins were big partiers. A lot of drinking and drugging. I stopped and they kept going. In 2003 my cousin Patrick died of a drug overdose at the age of 36. Same as me. But for the grace of God there go I. It was hard on the family and tried to remain friends with the remaining cousins. Meanwhile I met Jo’s wife Nicole. She was tattooed and into punk and rockabilly like me. We shared our love for John Waters’ movies and horror. We hung out a lot. My cousin Joe didn’t like to go out much. She was also sober and he was on and off.

I was stuck for a place to live near the end of 2003 and the offered me a room for real cheap so I moved in with them and their 2 dogs and 2 cats. It was a small bedroom but it served my purposes. I still hung out with them at the house. Right before I moved in Nicole had a gastro-bypass surgery and there were complications. Something was wrong with her gall bladder. She started abusing her pain medications as well. Sometimes she was completely incoherent. I dealt with it and moved out in April 2004.

I pretty much lost touch with them after that and they also separated within that year. The last time I saw Nicole she came to visit me at the restaurant I was working at. She was with my dead cousin’s widow who was also known for doing a lot of drugs and partying. They didn’t look too healthy but I was happy to see them. That was at least a few years ago.

Today I joined my natural father for lunch with my aunt. She told us about Nicole’s death. My aunt wasn’t real clear about the exact nature of Nicole’s death. She said it had to do with her neglected gall bladder and her drug use. My cousin Joe isn’t going to go to the funeral. I kind of want to but I don’t think it would be appropriate. She was using her maiden name so I couldn’t find any information on her. I’m not even sure when it happened.

I guess I’m writing this as my way to say of saying goodbye to her. She was a friend and family after all. Rest in Peace Nicole.


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