From Heel to Heal.

Whether or not you go into a twelve step program, or you pull yourself up by your own bootstraps and rely upon the old tried-and-true method of massive self-denial in order to overcome an addiction, there are steps that always come. AA has formalized them, but before the book that Bill W. wrote, they were steps that would naturally come with the clearing of the head, the strengthening of the body, and the return of the conscience.

One of the steps is to make amends, to the best of your ability, to the people you hurt.

Over the years, I've gotten a chance to do that; with limited success. Most people I felt I hurt seemed to not really give a damn one way or the other; which doesn't say much for my choice of friends. But a few of them, the ones that I really hurt, have accepted my apologies graciously.

Recently, I had the opportunity to open up a communication with somebody I hurt very badly. We hadn't communicated for twenty two years; and thanks to the many social networking sites, she tracked me down.

I'm always a little scared when people track me down. I'm not sure if I'm going to be greeted with a (metaphoric) hug or a (metaphoric, I hope) Louisville Slugger upside the cranium. With this one, I got a little of both; while in a metaphoric hug, she metaphorically bloodied my nose.

And, friends and neighbors, I deserved it.

And then, the conversation began. And I have to tell you, after the fact that I had to put myself out there and admit to all the crap that came with the many gallons of cheap vodka (and yes, good orange juice) I injected into my system, she was gracious enough to stop hitting me and listen with a sort of kindly interest.

And the time machine buzzed, and off we went to the mid-eighties. And we again went through what happened, and we talked about where we went after that, and how we came to be here right now, and eventually I suppose we will talk about what should have happened.

And during this whole process, another weight that I've carried around with me all of these years is lifted. And a wound becomes a scar, which is reminder of what not to do next time. And I begin to actually remember; not the things I want to remember, but the things that ACTUALLY HAPPENED.

And slowly, and surely, I become a better man.

It's not a destination. It's a journey.

And thank you for letting me take it.