Gateway to the Universe or Portal to Hell

Posted on May 19, 2009


Today was another fantastic day. Well, there were some bumps, most definitely, but not like the scary kind you find on your private parts after a drunken stupid night with a stranger you met at the bar, but like little speed bumps that slow you down on the residential street of your day. My day had speed bumps, a left turn and then a stop sign. But after the uphill climb, and the downhill coast, I’m feeling pretty good about the sequence of events, although I may not speak of them in sequence. 

My boy Phil text me today saying that Mary Cary’s porn was all over TMZ, the Celebrity Pornhab, and I knew it was time to do a little street cleaning. Now I had already told all the producers that I also took part in this movie. I did it a few weeks before I was even cast for the Sex Addiction show, so it was all in fun, jest, games, blah blah blah. I told the head honcho’s over at VH1 and they laughed, said they weren’t suprised, and then this shit comes out today and I get a knot in my stomach the size of China. Time to tell Jilly Beans and Dr. Drew. Nothing worse than telling Dr. Drew that you were in a porno that poked fun at the life altering process he just helped you through. At least not for me. And I would have told him on the show, but “the addict” inside told me that he would hate me, the producers would hate me, I would get kicked out, shamed. This is where my mind goes, my little addict goes nuts and helps me to keep secrets, even when they are secrets that will soon come to light. 

I called Drew, actually Drew called me, and thanks to some serious twittering, we were able to connect, and I told him. I cleaned my side of the street. At least, I started picking up trash from the gutters. Drew didn’t seem surprised, and he even direct messaged me, after our conversation, that he hopes this show highlights how much I’ve grown through this whole process. Every time I talk to him I get weepy eyed, and am just constantly reminded of the gratitude I have for this Loveline lovin man. Jill didn’t even blink, yes I told her while we were on the phone, but it didn’t sound like she blinked, she just said….and…..

And nothing. That’s all there is to it. I started to stress of the whole process of coming clean, and finally said fuck it, and just did it. It felt great. Fantastic. Clean. So there’s that small bag of trash, heaped to the side of the road waiting for the sweet garbage man to come clear it away. Or am I the garbage man? Sorry, I’m getting my words and metaphors all mixed up. 

Another small bump today was Saucy. I think her ass is seriously on fire. I’m going to start mixing in a new kind of dog food because her butt is just unreal, she has non stop gas, and her poor little doggy bottom exploded, inside my home, and she hasn’t had an inside accident in months. And then when we went out, she crapped again! So, time to change her food, start a new different nice diet so her ass isn’t so fucking stinky and her poo doesn’t come out like soft serve ice cream. Sorry to those of you who may be eating soft serve. 

I attended two meetings today, an SAA and AA, and came to some conclusions in both. The SAA, I decided to make a conscious effort not to objectify every person that passes. This is a habit I got into, not quite sure when, or why, but this is something I find myself doing like breathing. I see a floating pair of tits, or a bulge in a mans pants. Very rarely do I notice faces. I’d be the worst witness on Law and Order, unless of course the line up didn’t include the defendants face. Just parts. I need to start seeing and taking people as a whole,  instead of picking and choosing the parts that I like most. It will be incredibly difficult, but just noticing it is a start, and that is the first step. Actually the first step is admitting I am absolutely powerless, and my life has become unmanageable. But I suppose this goes with it. 

That’s another thing. I spoke with the new sponsor today, and absolutely love her. She uses fuck like I do, not like fuck sex, but fuck as a noun, verb, adjective, and adverb. I really like her. We are meeting wednesday to drink coffee and start talking big book and step work. I’m kind of excited to work the steps. I mean, recovery is truly in step works right? A guy said it best when he shared. “Going to AA and not doing the steps is like jacking off and not busting a nut. You just hurt yourself.” I’m ready to start busting my proverbial nut all over the steps. There I did it again, sexualizing conversation. Fuck. Good thing it’s already recorded so I don’t have to log it in my phone. 

By the way, I’m writing this on my computer, just got internet installed today, and it feels wonderful to be able to type with all my fingers, and not just the thumbs. I feel as though I can say a lot more, and not have sore opposable fingers at the end of my session. Lovely. However, this little gateway to typing heaven just may be my Portal to Hell.

I realize I must be very aware of my internet usage. There is an overwhelming urge and tendency to isolate, and nothing would be more regressive than going from too busy outside to notice life, to too locked into the internet world to notice outside. Why is it so hard to find a balance? And then why once you are balanced, are we forced to rebalance. Can’t things just be fucking perfect and easy? 

No. I already know this answer. It’s like demanding myself to already have a year or 8 of sobriety. It just won’t happen. So I need to chill out, eat a piece of Tri-Berry cobbler, and repeat “Progress, not Perfection” to myself until I’m sleepy. Speaking of Tri-Berry Cobbler…..



PS- look what I found kicking around HollyHood 🙂 if they had shoestrings they’d be swinging…..