LSD Boy

LSD Boy sure has me thinking and laughing and thinking some more.  One of the best things about The Fellowship is that it has taught me that I don't know shit about shit about almost anything let alone where other people are concerned.  My inclination is to tell them what to do when I think they're drifting into a dark, swampy forest.  I'm usually able to keep my mouth shut because, really, what do I know?  Maybe their journey is to wander through the moors and find Shangri La on the other side.  Maybe the heroin addict has to OD and almost die to finally realize that recovery is a better option.

I am the director and who tells people what they should do: "The best thing to do would be to sober up and not OD at all."  Seems like a no-brainer but there you go.

"Where I go?"  Jerry Seinfeld.

I find myself reaffirming my strengths most of the time - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly.  I am comfortable telling people what I've done - what has worked for me and what hasn't.  I'm really good with the books, too - I can tell you, more or less, what's in there and what isn't.  I'm not good at predicting future outcomes for other people, however, despite my skill in predicting the future.  Sometimes it seems so obvious and so compelling that I can't keep my mouth shut, but not usually.  I check my motives, take a deep breath, and repeat my mantras.

LSD Boy responded to my how-ya-doin' text yesterday: "Why do you ask?  Is there something specific you're worried about or are you just checking in?"

Sounded kind of defensive to me.  I may have gotten in his head a little bit.

Anyway, he called to talk about his weekend - he played host to an old friend who is still drinking heavily and seems conflicted about it.  None of the stuff that we had discussed recently came up.  I have had this evolving series of discussions in my head about what I'm going to say to him when he says this to me or how I'm going to start this conversation where I say this forceful thing and tell him I can't do this or I have to do that or I don't think he's this, that, or the other.  Blessedly, it always occurs to me that no one did this to me when I was getting sober.  My strengths are listening and sharing my own experiences.  My strengths are not judging and telling people what to do.

I listened and didn't tell him what to do.  Maybe, as he stumbles toward what I hope will be a long and contented sobriety, that his experiences are making him uniquely capable of helping someone else that wouldn't be receptive to my lofty advice.