This topic here feels way too big to even address, dang, it’s huge. Earlier this week I planned a half-hearted attempt to do something about it, but then stopped. With the subject looming overhead, I tried to just move on with my daily activities, you know, staying busy and trying not to think about it. Alas I could not escape, I had no choice.

A few days ago I started to do something about it, I began planning a public event in Madison for this week, planning it for today actually, for Thursday April 4th.

Lining up a few different critical tasks, I prepared for a Facebook-publicized event pronouncement, but then something shifted, and I convinced myself no, no, I had to stop. I couldn’t, it was too big, and perhaps the chore was also too dirty-ego-centric to follow through on, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I paused, I didn’t do anything resembling renting space, or arranging food for invitees, or the like. Still, the gosh-darn notion consumed me. So, as lame as my attempt may turn out to be, here I will try to explain. If you’re too busy with other tasks, just click on the attachment below and you can listen to me tell the tale instead of taking time to read about it.

Leading with intention makes for a better life, that is if not coming unglued when unexpected results follow.

Time, and change.

Time, certainly a fascinating topic. Is time more about math, or is it rather the accumulation of wonder, hope, hard work, and a little bit of mysticism?

Speaking of time, how long does a decade feel? 10 years, is that a long time? How much change occurs in our individual realities across such span? Are we different today than we were a decade ago? How much have we grown, learned, and evolved in 10 years?

Do our undesirable actions, behaviors, and addictions bubble up time and again as we journey, so to dispel that we have learned anything at all? Or can we say with objective show-me-like truthfulness that indeed we have mastered those habits that once domineered us?

10 years sounds like a long-ass-time. Try to imagine where you’ll be, how will you look, who will you be with, what will you be doing, and not doing, will you be happy, or disgruntled? It’s a long…ass…time.

Hell, five years almost feels like forever. Three years, well, that’s also almost unimaginable. Even a single turn of one new calendar creates question. Frankly, I do not know all that will occur in the next 12 months, both those things intended, awhile the variables flying in from left field. I can barely imagine the final result.

How much control do we actually have over the outcome? Is the freewill to steer our own ship an illusion as some claims say? Is our destination predetermined, and despite all attempts, can we legitimately become someone new, someone different, someone better?

Of course change occurs. Change is one of two life certainties, we have no choice. Change, surely change happens. The other one is death and that’s it. That’s all there is to be sure of in life, those two things: Change, and death.

So ok, we do change our lives don’t we, or maybe is it that life changes us? Regardless, day by day we metamorphosize into a brand new us, forever different than who we were yesterday, we have no choice. By default, we become different hour by hour, day by day, year by year, and certainly, decade by decade.

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

How do we even begin to define depression? Well, from where I sit it appears to be an unsettled emotional state that crosses over into a physical ailment, brought on by a belief of being held down or pushed aside.

Under mild conditions we are perhaps agitated, self-loathing, and unhopeful. Advancing then to moderate levels, a helplessness arrives, we seem to seek shelter in the negative, and even our once happy places are then shuttered, verifiably closed for the season. Moving then to extremes, we ourselves become a human snowball, mostly on autopilot and freefalling downhill. Earlier helpless conditions evolve to hopelessness, we abandon interest of self-care, and our internal voice begins a shutdown sequence.

Not all of us even survive level one of such darkness.

For me, this shit is as real as real can be, well, close enough anyway. You may have tuned in enough to know that I lost my dear niece Lexie on September 11th in 2017, when she turned a shotgun upon herself with accuracy, game over. Lexie was a ridiculously bright and sparkling star on earth for all her 25 years, now relegated to a flickering far-away entity in the night’s sky. She was way apart from crazy, operated soundly as a dynamic self-employed business lady, and held an advanced art skill. Lexie’s suicide note still presides on her Facebook wall, and such is a rather sensible however harrowing tale of her conscious search for solace after being pursued by monsters for much of her life.

Perhaps the acceptance and marketing I promote for depression is because the ultimate state of dark has brushed me threateningly close. Within this pod episode, I attempt to explain the what and the why of the previous sentence.

The very day when Lexie won the war against her monsters, I was actively pursuing a way out of my own misery. When my favorite middle sister Beth called me frantic with the news that Lexie was dead, I accepted it as a sign. Literally, I believed Lexie was inviting me to join her. Just months prior, two publicly famous individuals also took their lives in dramatic fashion, best friends Chris Cornell and Chester Bennington, so once Lexie was gone, it felt to be the perfect storm and time for me to finally jump overboard and into the stormy sea, no life jacket.

By my accounts, Lexie suffered much because of trauma encountered in her early childhood. Knowing a thing or three about adverse childhood experiences myself, I see that much of my own unsteady footing is because of missing safety and love in my youth, meaning I entirely missed that shit under the age of eight.

So, after recently escaping the grasp of my seventh great bout with depression, I have chosen to open more on the subject. Here I divulge never shared detail, as well as uncover some of what affords me the tactics to NOT accept an early termination of my human operating system.

Once more and again, why do I do these things? Why, so to help, because some of our humanoid experiences contain crossover, or withhold some slight similarities that we can all learn from. And if one of us holds some insight, I believe it is best to give it away, even when unpopular or painful to do so.

But can we not just figure shit out on our own and skip the drama? Do we need such hard topics to be spewn out in front of us, isn’t this detrimental to our optimism and inner light? Maybe, but not for me. I would rather know too much than too little because I know how coming up short feels and it

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

There is so much adhesive hardship in life, aka trauma. Within this vibrant episode, my dear gal pal Shequila and I discuss substance abuse, poor mental health, and more. Shequila knows the all-consuming grip of addiction too-too well, having witnessed her mother's struggle with abusing heroin and other substances for three decades. She shouldered the role of caregiver to her four younger siblings while still a child herself, then found interludes of refuge at her grandmother's apartment in the Allied Drive neighborhood of Madison Wisconsin, where Shequila spent time with 15 other grandchildren.

Shequila and I have known each other for more than a dozen years and last November, her and I joined forces to present a communal exposition panel on substance abuse at Garver Feed Mill in Madison, the full-length live recording which you can find within podcast #24, two episodes prior to this one. With over 100 community sisters and brothers in attendance, that Garver event was spectacularly informative. Please give it a listen.

After being honorably discharged from the United States Navy because of an injury, Shequila went on to earn her master’s degree in social work and is currently employed as an intensive outpatient and transition therapist. Shequila helped launch Madison's ‘CARES’ team in 2021, providing an alternative response to behavioral health-related 911 calls. While working to break down barriers to mental health care, she soldiers on toward a Doctorate in Social Work.

Tragically at 20 years young, Shequila’s youngest brother Michael died of an accidental drug overdose in the most ridiculous manner. Also here within episode 26, we land on the topics of helplessness and hopelessness for a while, as well as conversing what it does to us fundamentally to grow up without a mother. I ask Shequila about her family’s most dysfunctional dynamic, the question arising somewhat because Shequila’s parents were both 15 years old when they had her.

Shequila fires back to me with the query of what used to make me happy, but no longer does. She then questions the relationship between taking care of others, meaning our acts of kindness and service, aligned with who we ourselves are. Shequila charges me to contemplate the difference between love and addiction, asking me what I learned about love from my parents.

Shequila masterfully explains to me the condition of ‘abandonment trauma’, meaning parental wounds, and here specifically, ‘mother wounds’. What do mothers do for their offspring anyway, and when growing up without one, why do we often face the world ourselves to provide others the care we missed? Additionally…being without but still yearning for a home. And being without but still desiring access to nurturing support and comforts.

I raise the scenario of fearing my clinically insane mother, awhile avoiding the indoors, and specifically the fright of being trapped behind school walls. Shequila shares her scariest life experience…the terror of being left at the park all day while in care of her younger siblings, when she was eight years old. Not going into detail, but Shequila mentions the times her mom overdosed at home, and I riddle Shequila why she chose social work, I wonder about the toll that the line of work extracts from her, and inquire if she has any regrets in life.

Shequila shares her confusion after being discharged from the Navy, and I ask her what she thinks holds her back from her best life right now.

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

The complete CHAPTER TWO  audio recording, read by Roger.
CHAPTER ONE can be found in the previous pod episode #23.

Chapter Two excerpt:

(a poem) Mirror-Mirror Why Do You Hate Me So?

Yes I see, yes Mirror I see the glass is clear yes I see…

Yet Mirror, why always same-same the seeing?

 Storm clouds shower thy under-roof’s nest

Sans shelter, sans safety, sans calm

A rare outing, apart thy guardian’s wing

Some sunshine sprinkles atop thou’s madness

Near here, only near here my dear, fear the mere moment

No-no, oh no, no-no-no, I hear thine momma bird’s song a calling…

 Mirror please, I hunger hearing no more

Mirror please, now cut off these ears

Mirror please, I seek seeing no more

Mirror please, forever fog thy darkness

Please Mirror please now forever blind these eyes.

Some Nests No Home

Once collected from Detroit, still occupying our first Baltimore area Hillsdale Road haunted home, after a while the bat-shit-crazy mother bird then nothing but gone from our family forever-n-ever institutionalized…bye-bye mommy, father bird removed his wedding ring for finality and we fled that damn monster house. Veritably, BigBird did what he believed right, both protecting us from our mother’s insanity, while himself adjusting course to attend night school for another five years. The resulting edginess flooding my father seemed unbearable, even to me as a young ignorant seventh-year child. He was by far away more than home, and even when around, BigBird yelled into my perceived ears more than he spoke. 

The wobbliness followed wherever I went, me invariantly unsteady within my own shoes.

Though a shaky roof teetered overhead, I felt relegated apart from any shelter, and far-far from whatsoever warmth or support. Maybe I was just being weak, a wimp, a little fucking biddy crybaby bird, IDK. With the familiar sheets of bitchboy downgrading rain pelting me, finding nowhere secured nor space zoned calm, I fled, I ran. 

I ran fear filled and resentful

I ran then fell then ran til lost, castaway adrift and underbelly exposed 

I saw, I saw only slightly…I saw only darkened skies

Darkened skies, darkened skies as the bare warm noontime sun shone 

Not running to get un-lost

Not fueled by hope

Not desperate to find 

Nor frantic to be found

Again fleeing the frights

Again eluding the yelling

Again pissed off mad I was, atmospherically disregarded

Again, again this catastrophic unsteadiness

I relied on nothing, I turned to no one but mine some the paltry resource crumbs

I sought shelter, I coveted comfort, yet still running, yet still lost 

I then froze, I then froze and I hardened, I hardened cold like stone

I hardened cold like stone, immediately then the chipping away began

My self-belief fractured, factually crumbled, my-self succumbed to nothingness

Unbothered the nothingness, unbothered the skip-over, worthless even the bother

Worthless the breath, worthless the existence, this slur worthless the worry 

Worthless…worthless to a lesser degree than even muddied parking lot gravel. 

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

Over 100 friends packed the room, and in excess of 250 joined the FB livestream.   

Without discussion, we sit amidst an opioid and fentanyl epidemic. National suicide rates have reached true crisis levels. Alas, addiction and poor mental health casts their anguish upon us all. Eager to transcend the torment, chiefly we lack the comprehension of where or how to begin. Realities of outpacing the suffering lingers as a far-off fantasy, and a wealth of us are convinced there is no way out. Join author Roger Ray Bird and a cast of Bright Sparks for a demystification of the self-destruction. Roger shares his personal experiences as a user and drug dealer in Baltimore, and reads from his new book Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict? 

Bright Spark cast:

Shequila Hoye knows the all-consuming grip of addiction, having witnessed her mother's struggle for over two decades. Shequila shouldered the role of caregiver to her younger siblings while still a child herself. Her grandmother's apartment in the Allied Drive neighborhood, where she spent time with 15 other grandchildren, became a refuge for her. After being honorably discharged from the United States Navy, Shequila went on to earn her Master’s Degree in Social Work. Horrifically in 2020, her 20-year-old brother died of an accidental overdose. Shequila helped launch Madison's CARES team in 2021, providing an alternative response to behavioral health-related 911 calls. While working to break down barriers to mental health care, she soldiers on toward a Doctorate in Social Work.

Michelle Kullmann lost her son Cade Reddington to a single-pill fentanyl poisoning in 2021. As a dynamic mother and 30-plus years spent in the Madison business community, Michelle utilizes her learned experiences to advocate for fentanyl poisoning awareness and harm reduction. Michelle spreads critical information gained since Cade's passing on the opioid and fentanyl paradox so fellow families can learn from her family's tragedy and hopefully save lives. #forever18 #onepillcankill

Laura Bird is a Milwaukee native, and now lives in Madison with her husband, three teenagers, and small dog. She’s a middle grade author, an ambassador for the Wisconsin Book Festival, a board member for the Madison Public Library Foundation, and co-founder of the Great Midwest Book Group. She also freelances for BRAVA Magazine. 

 Tyler “TJ” Schmidt was an average Milwaukee teenager until drugs slithered into his world. After the U.S. government dramatically restricted pharmaceutical OxyContin pill production, Tyler switched to heroin. While partying inside his freshman college dorm room, TJ’s visiting uncle died of a drug overdose, and Tyler served prison time after being charged under the Len Bias law. Then however doubly tragic, in 2020 Tyler’s girlfriend died from drugs. Surviving multiple overdoses and several stays in rehab facilities himself, Tyler is now three and a half years clean, and aims to make his life purpose helping others find their path away from addiction. 

Roger Ray Bird forfeited his mother to a Maryland mental hospital when he was four, and began abusing drugs at age 12. At 16 Roger became a national statistic, high school dropout. After surviving two overdoses, then exhausting a 13-year addiction, he traded drugs for a professional mountainbike race career. Following 20 years at Trek Bicycles, Roger now mentors young adults and their parents struggling with addiction.

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

A read-aloud of chapter one from the new book. Partial text:

My scars represent my best lessons…my stumbles hurt me, while teach me. 

Growing into the learned weathering of up’s and downs, aka residing in the middle, this my greatest challenge awhile my greatest opportunity. I try, I really try, I try to remain honest that even when low, an up period is on its way coming to me, fricking always.

With or without placement of middle, we all do it our way. No other way is available to us except our way. Our way is the correct way for us, aka there is no wrong way, aka there is no wrong way…there is no…wrong…way.

During a bumble, I try to hold on and keep from making my down any worse. During a down, using my finest emotional shovel I dig to my deepest place of best try, to start shaking the hard thing, or least avoid giving the hard thing more power over me. 

To arrive at the bottom of my best try well, if able to act, even whilst bleeding…if able to rise, even whilst broken…maybe I can begin, if willing. If willing, if willing…if I can try, if I can start, I most certainly initiate movement, and quite possibly maybe movement in the direction of betterment, aka less down. I just need to try, I just need to try and start.

This rollercoaster ride, a puzzle.

This puzzle a game, this puzzle game called life.

Rollercoasters are designed to shock and scare. 

Puzzles do not include directions, no directions exist for puzzles, just start. 

Games never include certain and definable outcomes and if so, it’s not a game.

Life comes with no owner’s manual, only to learn that life is a rollercoaster puzzle game.

Retaining the known that up periods always follow down periods, I land in a better place.

A better place where I feel safer, warmer, and grow a little stronger. 

A better place, a better place instead of remaining stuck within the turmoil. 

A better place than the tumultuous untruths of Whatever, Why bother, and Why me?  

A better place, confident and reassured I am not the only one hurting. 

A better place, confident and reassured I am not doing it wrong as once thought.

This rollercoaster puzzle life game, I am not doing it wrong.

I am not doing it wrong, there is no wrong way, there is no wrong way, there is no…wrong…way. 

There is no wrong way rather just play the game, just start, futz with the puzzle pieces until they begin to fit together, hah…then hang on, it’s gonna be a hell of a ride, sometimes shocking, sometimes scary, but remember, it was designed that way.

 ~

Querying my darling daughter Birdy’s formidable unknowing, these my bare all writings are for her, my lovely Lauren. Revealing a plethora of never before recognized truths concerning my addiction, I also dedicate this ramble to my son Travis aka Boyd awhile you my preciouses, you my beloved sisters and brothers of the world. 

Sharing these here my lived knowings, I try to help. Help locate a sunnier path, or least shake the damn shadow. Help to find, see and embrace the straight-up factual possibility…it…is…possible you can do it, you can do it, I know it, you really-really can, I fucking know it, I know it deep in my heart, you are strong-stronger than you even realize, I believe in you, I am fighting for you and I love you.

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

Attempting to begin my life anew, I recognized the biggest challenge is overcoming the worst parts of myself. Beginning to claw my way up and out of that shitty hell, I found the need to silence the defeating voice in my head and go, just go.

Dissecting the value of friends in my life, I also share a reading from my new book Daddy Why Were You A Drug Addict: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within.

I share insightful details concerning the six foreword authors of the book, and our shared vision of trying to live a sustainable life. Please give it a listen. Please share this episode with anyone interested in tales of survival, or depression, or drug addiction, or alcoholism.

AUDIO READING:

Jellyfished

The first person I met only seconds after pulling over in Colorado for a brief unplanned hangry bird lunchbreak, unplanned because I thought to be traveling further west to Telluride, was a burly mountainbike riding dude named Paul Jankauskas, alongside his behemoth golden retriever mountain dog, Marmot. Although I found Paul to be gruff, I quickly learned he was a legitimate bespoke craftsman beyond scale, and one of Paul’s ventures was operating his minuscule but hyper-high-end bike shop in the heart of Vail’s retail village, Custom Wheel Building. Paul teased a summer session full-time bike mechanic job in front of me within minutes of our first meet-up that December, and the following Spring I was working for Paul inside his tiny ultra-cool shop. 

Often my primary orientation was just stay out of Paul’s grumpy way, while spending joy-filled minutes between tasks playing with Marmot, who arrived to work with his hooman every single day. Paul’s wife Joanne was a gem of a sweetheart, and stopped by the bike shop now and then to bring Paul lunch. Marmot was such a darling boy, albeit an absolute monster…he had the biggest head I have ever seen on any retriever-type dog. I affectionately nicknamed Marmot thy darling Woolley The Mammoth.

During winters I relied on my day job working for big boss Otto at his Spruce Saddle mid-mountain restaurant for a paycheck, a complementary season ski pass, and free food when on the clock. Winter evenings I was employed at an exotic ski boot fitting shop next to Paul’s bike store, working for the masterful Don Lamson at his Boot Lab.

Come summertime I realized the need for a second job to pay bills and frankly, it had to be a foodservice job. Lacking adequate funds to feed my face at home, I was then a cook at the local Pizza Hut franchise after concluding work at Paul’s bike shop.

My sophomore year working for Paul, I had raced my mountainbike tons the year before, spending many hours behind the windshield with Dave Turner and Mike Kloser carpooling to mountainbike events all over the state. But two months earlier at my most recent race, I broke my collarbone. Still waffling on turning pro although I was beating multiple card-carrying professionals every weekend, I struggled somedays to keep pointing forward with my racing aspirations beyond expert class, and lately struggled slightly to even maintain my mood. Coming off my broken collarbone I was trying to rally my front facing mojo and get back on the road with Dave and Mike. I found the endeavor of racing and the potential it held for me was perhaps the only at-time thing capable of saving me from my most vicious inescapable enemy.

I was trying, I was really trying to stand taller than my pain,

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE

Coach Sarah and I discuss the might of the written word…and what about the value of our stories shared anyway? Both regarding the writer awhile the reader, we consider the realities of publishing our life’s experiences…personal and professional.

How to do it…self-publish, hybrid publishing, or working with a formal publisher? What happens after writing for weeks or even years, you realize the need to either start over or re-write the lost sort-out of your most burdensome inner trauma?

Sarah and I cross paths with our juxtaposed youthful reading and writing experience.
 
We discuss…when we write, how much we write, jacket or no jacket, working online and offline, and writing in big chunks of time away from home or squirreled away during private quiet minutes adjacent to all our daily distractions. I touch on my massively inward journey, keeping score and the process of it all. 

After 6.49 hours of writing per day on average for two and a half years, and sometimes writing 10, 12, or even 18 hours at a time, I explain my commitment alongside my sacrifice to accomplish the task. 

We chase our tails a bit over the notion of personal pain and trauma processing on paper, versus after the fact.

In summary, we both agree on the critical nature of reading aloud, and working with programs utilizing Read Aloud functionality. Finally, how about the on-the-shelf publishing…printing small or large runs…print it first, or record the audio book first, and why? 

The emotional content runs deep as we share our experiences of actually writing a book versus not writing a book, and the chore of not only writing, but publishing, and bringing our works forward to the world. 

The book:
Daddy, Why Were You A Drug Addict?: Winning the War Amid My Angel and Devil Within
by Roger Ray Bird
ISBN 979-8218286651
Available on Amazon for $11

Roger's social directory: HERE