In the spring of 1993, Daddy was in a rehabilitation facility in New Mexico. Stomi's mother had divorced him in January of 1992 and he remained very drunk for a long time after that. His stay at the New Mexico rehabilitation facility was not successful and this picture was taken the morning I checked him in to the HOW Foundation for the first time, in the fall of 1993. When he wrote the following, he was all too aware that he had, once again, lost everything due to his addiction.
Confusion
As I look across this beautiful valley
of mountains, rivers, and distinct rock formations,
it seems like a wonderful place to spend time, but
under very different circumstances.
Then my mind travels here and there and back to the past,
but rarely into the positive future.
I become so disappointed because I don't know if I'll ever be
what I would like to be.
I sometimes can't find the positive because of all of the
negative and I can't seem to deal with the
negative while still searching for the positive.
I can see and smell the sage and chamisa, but my appreciation
of these things is almost dormant.
There is a stagnation in my mind that cries out for everything
yet has no true desire for anything.
Then my thoughts come back to the losses, the guilt, the shame,
and finally, the loves of my life.
Looking across the foggy morning haze of this valley, I wonder
if I can overcome this demon or am I destined to
live my life in Hell?
I think of the broken dreams and promises, the dishonesty,
and the abandonment of my values.
Finally, I begin to think of my child, a product of my flesh, my blood,
with some of the same inner thoughts and features,
and then the cycle begins all over again.
I cannot and I will not compromise.
Will I win or will I lose?
This is the question.
Confusion
As I look across this beautiful valley
of mountains, rivers, and distinct rock formations,
it seems like a wonderful place to spend time, but
under very different circumstances.
Then my mind travels here and there and back to the past,
but rarely into the positive future.
I become so disappointed because I don't know if I'll ever be
what I would like to be.
I sometimes can't find the positive because of all of the
negative and I can't seem to deal with the
negative while still searching for the positive.
I can see and smell the sage and chamisa, but my appreciation
of these things is almost dormant.
There is a stagnation in my mind that cries out for everything
yet has no true desire for anything.
Then my thoughts come back to the losses, the guilt, the shame,
and finally, the loves of my life.
Looking across the foggy morning haze of this valley, I wonder
if I can overcome this demon or am I destined to
live my life in Hell?
I think of the broken dreams and promises, the dishonesty,
and the abandonment of my values.
Finally, I begin to think of my child, a product of my flesh, my blood,
with some of the same inner thoughts and features,
and then the cycle begins all over again.
I cannot and I will not compromise.
Will I win or will I lose?
This is the question.