Remnants of a Broken Life

An actual consideration I am currently faced with:

“Can I afford to both start saving a nest egg for an eventual new job/relocation some months down the road…as well as make a deposit on the root canal surgery I need in order to halt nerve damage I have no idea how I acquired — probably some years ago in a less-than-sober state — in my front tooth?”

Unfortunately the company health insurance (a benefit I was without for half a year) does not extend coverage to such dental procedures, so this one is on me.  Both from a financial and an accountability standpoint.  Most people are able to do more than shrug their shoulders when their dentist asks them, “What caused this damage?”

An example of a past ghost that still haunts me from time to time.  The distinction I’ll make here: in the grand scheme of substance abuse recovery, and life…these remnants are so very, very minor.  Inconvenient and regrettable? Yes. Devastating and irreparable? No.

Not everyone is so lucky to basically get up, glance around, dust themselves off…and walk away.  A few scars maybe.  A few bridges burned.  A few loves lost.  A few opportunities squandered.

I’ll live.  Gratitude for that fact informs my worldview these days.

Do I really need much more than that?


“I was raging, it was late /
In the world my demons cultivate /
I felt the strangest emotion but it wasn’t hate, for once /
Yes I’m changing, yes I’m gone /
Yes I’m older, yes I’m moving on /
And if you don’t think it’s a crime, you can come along, with me . . .”


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