January 5, 2004
I shared in a great meeting tonight that I made it my mission to be the least stereotypical drug dealer in L.A. The house was clean, the dog was walked, I always answered the phone, and I treated my clients ethically, cutting off those who were obviously ruining their lives with it. I was catering to the illusion that I was keeping my life manageable, until I was forced to live in the ultimate unmanageability of prison, where I was managed down to the smallest detail.
This seems to be blast from the past week. At the meeting I ran into someone I used to work with, and, like everybody else in L.A., had a huge crush on. We spoke a bit about the difference in him between then and now, and what he had discovered was authenticity. And it showed. He was still extremely attractive, but no longer intimidating. He had completely lost the unapproachable veneer. It was very refreshing.
In any case, the email that follows testifies to a certain degree of redemption that existed even in the darkness. I think that my initial experience in AA in 1986 was still in my bones. I just don't know what step the following actually represents. Ironies abound in this life.
Hi, Marc,
S. S. here...yikes, that name must conjure up lots of memories and images. I found your email address because I wanted to write and thank (again) for saving my life.
You not selling to me that time I called you on the phone after I got out of the hospital and a sober living house saved my life. I will forever be grateful to you and I have such respect, affection and appreciation for you beyond words. I will never forget the loving lecture you gave me on the phone when I called you asking for drugs. I remember pulling over to the side of the road and listening, listening, listening. You telling me you heard I had been sick, in the hospital, from the overdose, and you felt I should use that newfound sobriety to rebuild my life. You put a spark into me that I didn't have at the time. You reminded me of my worth, my talent, you told me to respect the gift of my writing and to give sobriety a chance. You could have easily taken the road of selling to me but you thought far beyond that, and thought of me and what was best for me, when I, at that moment, didn't care and was fleetingly willing to toss it all way for one more fix, despite the fact that I had spent five weeks in a hospital and had nearly died several times. When the ambulance came to get me, and my apartment was covered with my own blood from vomiting and more, I was in shock and I heard later that they said I was only two hours away from death, had my building manager not heard my screams from the bathroom window and called 911. And, despite all of that, the compulsion to use was greater and you saved me from myself.
I remember that I momentarily didn't listen. I was intent on getting drugs and so I went to another dealer and bought a package. But your words were so haunting and powerful and meaningful to me, and had such truth, that I couldn't do it. So that's when I deposited the baggy under your mat and called you to alert you that it was there for you to do with as you wished. That was my last attempt at using, and it was before of you and your love for me and for respecting my worth as a human being -- you were a drug dealer with a conscience! -- but you were also a friend, obviously, that cared for me beyond selling me product.
That was so powerful, your words to me on the phone and your refusing to sell to me, that I couldn't go through with it. Because of that, I am more than two and a half years sober and I have a great, new wonderful life. A new apt, a new car, my friends are back in my life and I'm taking writing classes and I have my passion back for my craft. Thank the Lord, I date, I have lots of sober sex (who thought it would be possible?), and I don't think of myself as diseased and damaged and hopelessly corrupted and dirty and unworthy of love or anything good in life. I do outreach work in AA, I attend meetings, I have a great sponsor. I had the privilege of taking J. to his first meeting ever last week -- what a joy that was, and, as I told J., of all the situations and places we have been, and all that we have gone through in the decade-plus that we've known each other, what a miracle that we would both survive and I would be the one taking him to a meeting -- at the AT Center in Silverlake where I had shared about him, without mentioning his name of course, over the years, about his struggle and whether I could have him in my life while he was in active addiction. He was also one of the ones I always prayed for when it was time to pray for those in active addiction outside of the rooms. And there he was, last week, sitting next to me at an NA meeting...
I am so happy that you are sober -- I have looked at your blog and your writing is magnificent -- and so honest. Such courage.
Thank you again...I hope we can be in each other's lives in a very new way when the time comes.
[HERE'S THE KICKER. I HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS INCIDENT. NEEDLESS TO SAY, IT MADE ME FEEL A LITTLE BETTER ABOUT HAVING FACILITATED A LOT OF WRECKAGE WHEN I DEALT DRUGS. A LOT OF FUN, TOO, BUT AT A VERY HIGH PRICE FOR SOME. BUT I HONESTLY FEEL NO WORSE THAN I DID ABOUT SERVING DRINKS AS A BARTENDER FOR MANY ALCOHOLICS. I DO BELIEVE IN A SOCIETY WHERE CONSENTING ADULTS SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO WHAT THEY WANT WITH THEIR BODIES. EVEN WITH ALL THE SUBSTANCE ABUSE, IT'S A HELLUVA LOT BETTER THAN SAUDI ARABIA]
Tomorrow I see my Parole Officer. Today I completed my resume. Moving forward.
MCO 2005
