Grown Up and Growing Old

Twenty-five years ago my first encounter with Mental Health began. I was 29 years, a drug addict, and a chain smoker, drank alcohol when I couldn’t get drugs and thought society was screwed. There were a lot of internal conversations on my part, along with the mixing of colors of the world I didn’t mind. Most of all I couldn’t keep a job past 5 months, six at the most and I was forever searching for somewhere to sleep.
I finally reached the age of fifty-five; with gray and balding head, and numerous treatment centers, a state hospital, and several AA and N/A meetings in my pocket. I finally curbed the alcohol and drugs. In between the age of 29 and fifty-five, I learned I would grow old and there would be nothing, and there would be no one. That’s a partiality of truth, and one that raised hope. Old acquaintances have passed on, I am taking responsibility of keeping my own flesh and blood from “losing it” and I am working; most of all I sigh in the evening before I sleep, with a memory.
I gave up on life, to become a part of it, without feeling anguish, I yielded to the concepts of Recovery, AA, N/A and viewed Outcomes in MHCD without dredging within the crevices of my conscious mind, at last; forcing myself from the pretentious games of mind I played on myself, that others so whole heartedly laughed with me about. I learned gray hair isn’t worry, it’s growing, in truth and wisdom, not all mine, there is the touch of spirit and I keep going, even in fear, realizing I am being stronger without going overboard; just growing old.
I will probably live the rest of my life taking prescribed medications. I am a diabetic, yet I am also schizo-affective, can you tell? I am also bi-polar, my friends laugh because I know where I can hide, never knowing where I have been, and I never know where I am going, but I’ve gotten to be fifty-five years old because someone else believed and I let them; that’s part of Recovery, knowing someone who cares and others who have faith!
Written by: Donald Sammons