Whispering Wyrd

Until recently, when I looked back on my life, I did so with regret. A lot of regret. Regret for things I said and did in my younger years, especially during active alcoholism and addiction. It felt like my life was a fast, loud car with my foot pressed all the way down on the accelerator but my hands weren’t on the steering wheel. It didn’t even have a steering wheel.

And predictably, maybe even inevitably, that car eventually became so damaged, so utterly wrecked, that it just wouldn’t function anymore. Not at that speed and not in that condition. It didn’t just wreck itself. It wrecked everything in its path along the way.

I took that car to different “mechanics” and “body shops,” trying to get it running again. But over and over, I was told the same thing… That kind of damage doesn’t get repaired. There’s no real hope for something like that. Of course, the “car” was my life. And the damage was everything addiction and alcoholism left behind.

Even after I got sober and clean, the regret didn’t go away. In some ways, it got worse. It became something internal, something extremely corrosive. It started to eat away at any sense of self-worth I had left or tried to rebuild. At some point, I realized I had to let that go too. Just like I let alcohol and benzos go. Because that level of regret is toxic.

People who haven’t walked through addiction, trauma, and recovery may not fully understand that weight. But those who have, they know. Recovery isn’t just about putting substances down.
 It’s also about what’s happening inside of us.

At least for me, there was no real recovery without an internal change. An internal shift. I couldn’t keep thinking the same thoughts, living the same way, or surrounding myself with the same patterns and people, and expect something different to happen.

That car analogy is powerful for me because it felt true.

There was a time I really did feel like I was trapped in something powerful and out of control… full throttle and no steering wheel. And I felt every crash. Every impact. And there were a lot of them.

The “mechanics” and “body shops” in my life came in different forms, doctors, religious voices, authority figures.

Doctors told me I would never be free from benzos. Not after that high of a daily dose, not after that many years. The best I could hope for, they said, was to reduce the amount I took. The risks were too high. No one wanted to be responsible for what might happen.

I also remember a Baptist preacher my mother-in-law sent to talk to me. At one point, he stood up, frustrated, and walked out of the house saying, “I think you are ruined on Christianity.” In other words, yet again, no hope.

What he probably didn’t realize is that moment became a turning point for me. Not out of anger, but clarity. His words were the proverbial final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Christianity. I had already struggled for a long time with those teachings, and after that, I finally allowed myself to be honest… I just didn’t believe them.

But I did know something else was there, because even in the depths of addiction, that spiritual longing never left me. What I found, what truly resonated with me, was Buddhism. It’s what I believe with every fiber of my being. And it has played an essential role in saving my life.

Looking back now, I’m grateful I didn’t accept those final verdicts about my life.

Because if I had… I probably wouldn’t be here writing this. I wouldn’t have made it to my 60th birthday. And I definitely wouldn’t be experiencing the kind of peace and happiness I have today.

That “car”, my life, is in better shape now than it has ever been. Not because it was never damaged. But because it was rebuilt. It has a steering wheel now. And for the first time, I’m actually driving it.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this… Be careful who you hand your keys to.

Even people in positions of authority can be wrong. Sometimes they’re speaking from limitation, not truth. Sometimes they just can’t see what’s possible for you. That doesn’t make them bad people. But it does mean you don’t have to accept their conclusions as your future.

Nobody knows your life, the condition of your “car”, better than you do. So take care of it. Be patient with it and don’t give up on it. Even if it’s been through a lot. Especially if it’s been through a lot.

Amituofo
~Buck