The light at the end of the turtleneck

Dress for the moment.

From the window, my mom saw a stranger walking to work in the rain once. It was a Monday morning, and she struck a miserable scene against the torrent.

Probably partied all weekend. And now, Monday seemed so bleak, my mom couldn’t resist commenting.

“Reality sets in.”

Well, Monday mornings aren’t famously fun. Factor in the pouring rain and, indeed, you could make a sturdy case for reality sucking.

That’s probably one of the reasons I avoided it for so long. Much of my recovery has been about learning how to deal with reality — rather than retreating to an attic, curled up to a crack pipe.

Maybe — if I had been semi-literate at the time — I could have taken a page from the ancient Romans. One of the precepts of Stoicism is to expect life’s downturns, even while living the high life. In fact, Seneca, one of Rome’s richest citizens, regularly played the pauper — just so he wouldn’t be surprised and ill-equipped by a sudden reversal of fortune. He recognized the potential for good or bad in every moment.

Then there was Marcus Aurelius, the ‘stoic emperor’ of Rome. He faced all kinds of misery — plagues, famine, war — and held true to his principles. My favorites?

• Control your mind, not outside events: The only thing a person has true power over is their own mind and judgment.

• Live in the present: One should confine oneself to the present moment rather than dwelling on the past or worrying about the future.

Stoicism has always been a challenge for me. When I was a junkie, I could have tried abstaining for a day or two. Maybe even a week. But the thing is, I hated even one clean minute.

In fact, every addict suffers severely from the disease of ‘Monday morning’ — when they’re waiting for their dope or, even worse, waiting for the funds to buy it. This is soul-deep despair. And I radiated it to everyone in my life.

Stoics might say that’s a good thing. The in-betweens help prepare us — strengthen us — for drought. Well, it never worked for me.

I remember living for the weekend, and the extreme low frequency that I operated at from Monday to Friday,

I couldn’t wait for the weekend. Which was oblivion. Then Monday arrived and it was back to Suckville.

But it wasn’t enough. I found a way to move the goalposts and shorten the gap — through the miracle of crack. I managed to get high a little more often.

The thing is crack wouldn’t stop moving those goalposts. Maybe in the past, I could survive until the weekend. But it soon reached the point where I couldn’t wait for nightfall or visitors to leave or this godforsaken dinner party to end.

So I waited less and less. I squeezed in a little daytime toke here and there. Maybe a little ‘how’s-your-father’ before the family visit. This felt like a graduation of sorts — to a card-carrying crack smoker.

(At this moment, I’m having a hard time with this confession. I’m hoping it’s because I’m recovered enough to have trouble recognizing the person I’m writing about. Or, at least, I see him, but I’m ashamed that it was me.)

Ultimately, this weekend warrior dispensed with weekends and ‘partied’ every day. Only, despite my best efforts, there was always a gap — and that space became increasingly terrible for everyone in my life.

Crack ultimately failed me. It made the in-betweens so unbearable that all I could do was consume vast quantities of it — hoping that either it would stick and permanently divorce me from reality. Or, at least, kill me.

You might imagine then, how much I enjoyed the 24-hour non-party that is recovery. It’s reality, every minute of every fucking day.

I could only escape to my dreams. Maybe that’s why I had so many of them.

Eventually, though, the waking moments stopped dragging. I started to see possibility again — maybe for the first time in my adult life. What could I become at the end of all this?

Being in-between isn't so bad either. A cozy chrysalis. Have you ever pulled on a turtleneck sweater on a cold winter morning — and halfway through, realized how nice it is to be stuck in the neck part? So nice you don’t want to come out from the other end of the neck for a good long while? You can see that little window of daylight at the end, but you like it where you are just fine.

Doubtless, we all get a soul-crushing slap in the face at the other end of that turtleneck. What is life but a series of appointments and disappointments? And then there’s the unrelenting horror of other people. They drive — they even park — like assholes. It’s a world of thugs, Bulk Barns, chicken wings, Bachelor in Paradise, Benjamin Netanyahu, and dead-eyed video gamers. Then there’s all that uncertainty about the future. And the sneaking suspicion that this is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a fake orgasm.

And for all that, my mom still tells reprehensible jokes that I can’t stop laughing at. I’m learning to play the harmonica, except not really. You wouldn’t believe the things you can do alone, or with a special friend, in a swimming pool. I’m smiling a little, writing these words — and also wondering why I speak them aloud as I type. Weirdo. Imagine if you could see me writing! Also, there are fluffy clouds and weird trees and downtown coffee shops and dogs in this reality.

And this strange angel spent 75 years on Earth. His books are still with us today.

In this house, there are no Mondays. No waiting for weekends. No light at the end of the turtleneck. It’s right here, right now; every moment rife with potential.

Like one of those ancient Stoics, I feel both sides of every moment, They crackle with energy that can be both good or not-so-good. It’s up to me to find the former.

We all know people — not just addicts — who find the not-so-good. Their moments are unruly, agitated, even violent. They can’t wait for the next one — and then they go and ruin that one too. Even worse, they wreck your moments.

Protect the present. You can't recycle or compost a wasted moment. It goes straight to the trash.

I’m learning not to wait for the next moment. This one’s perfect. We can do great things in it.

That reminds me of something else my favorite Roman emperor said:

“You could be good today. But instead, you choose tomorrow.”

(Oh, and remember how a moment ago, I was pained by thoughts of who I used to be? Well, in this moment, I’m smiling. Moments are funny like that.)