The Monkey on My Back...

Stephen King, The Gunslinger introduction fo the Prisoner (Eddie Dean, Heroin Addict)  “After Roland caught up to the man in black after the mountains, Walter used a deck of tarot cards to predict his future. One of these cards was The Prisoner, which depicted a young man in pain with a baboon on his shoulder, probably a symbolic representation of having a "monkey on your back."

“When the only fast way you could get rid of the monkey on your back was to snap your spinal cord above that bunch of nerves, you were dealing with one heavy monkey.”   

- Stephen King, The Drawing of Three (Dark Tower II)

Have I ever told you about the Monkey on my back?  Have I ever told that no one has ever described having a monkey on your back as well as Stephen King introduces Eddie in the Dark Tower Cycle.  As King said in the Gunslinger “One of these cards was The Prisoner, which depicted a young man in pain with a baboon on his shoulder, probably a symbolic representation of having a "monkey on your back." The baboon that King describes is depicted above.  He was a really son of a bitch this Demon Monkey.  He had his clause dug deep into it Prisoner’s back and was violently whipping his hostage.  Have I ever told you that I know exactly how that feels?

Let’s just start by saying my demon never was heroin; no I was never that cool.  Although, according to my sign if I was a drug, I would be heroin.  Because by the very definition of Scorpio I am both Hardcore and Addictive, just like Sweet Lady H.  I can surprise my pain for a time, just like Mr. Brownstone can suppress the pain, however, when the inevitable crash comes I am rage, I am anger, and I am wrath.  I wear that pain on my sleeve and the entire world knows what it is.  What is the Black Dread if it is not the crash after a wicked euphoric hi?  It is not lie that I am an emotional person.  Probably to emotional some would say.  Not only emotion but extremely sensitive, if you ever said anything to me that could be in anyway shape or form considered, you can guarantee I remember.   I forget nothing.  I feel every.  I take it to heart and I turn it over and over in my mind trying to know it and understand it.  “H” brings that same intensity to its users.  So usually with me the Scorpio everything is either really, really good, or really bad.  There is generally no in-between.  It is like my love, and friendship.  I only know how to do it one-way: True and completely.  I am so all or nothing.  Then I can be obsessive. 

I know I have said here before, but the first time I started reading the drawing of “The Drawing of Three” I put it down.  The last thing I wanted to read about when I was 21 and clinically depressed was some dude with a fucking heroin addiction.  In my mind Eddie Dean was a weak piece of shit, which should have kept the needle out of his arm.  The truth, I know now, is I didn’t want to hear about Eddie and his Monkey Demon because I was being whipped by my own demons.  I think the Eddie Dean story hit a little to close to home.  I was drinking heavily at the time because when I was drunk was the only time I had a quiet mind.  It was the only time I was not worried if I had just hurt someone.  It was the only time that I didn’t need to pray for forgiveness over some sin that was not committed.  I medicated with beer and later Jimmy Beam.  So, no at 21 I didn’t want to read about another person’s bullshit.  I was not in the right frame of mind to listen or even understand it.

Hell, when I finally did read the book, and fell in love with Eddie Dean I don’t think in my late twenties I was willing to admit how much I had in common with the heroin junky from New York.  No, but it was true.  We are kin he and I.  Addicts that carried terrible monkeys on our backs, but also, Ka-Mai.  Eddie was Ka-Mai as am I. When Eddie finally met his maker, as I have said in the past, I wept like a little baby.  I cast the book aside and cursed Stephen King for killing Eddie.  I couldn’t pick the book up for a week or two after that.  Even then it was never the same.  Eddie out of the story just felt wrong.  However, I did what Eddie would have done if Susannah, Jake, Roland, or Oy had fallen, he would have continued on to the Dark Tower.  That is what Gunslinger’s do; they stand and are true to their calling. 

I have often thought that the Monkey on my back was food.  I have thought it was depression, booze, women, and even cigarettes to some extent.  However, yesterday for the first time in my 38 years, I got a good look at the Monkey on my back and it wasn’t any of those things.  The Monkey on my back was ME.

Yes, it was me.  How could this be?  Aren’t I a food addict?  Yes, I am.  I use food like Eddie used Heroin.  I use it like I did booze when I was 21 to quiet a mind that will never just shut the fuck up.  However, I think those are both symptoms of a much larger problem.   

I am not sure I can possible explain this.  I am not even sure when I sat down here at the computer did I realize this.  The Monkey on my back is me.  It is not a 600 lbs. gorilla.  It’s not tacos and burritos, burgers or fries.  No.  It is me. 

Am I trying to punish myself, my family, or the entire fucking world?  I don’t know.   I really don’t.

What I know is I was struggling on my walk.  I was tired.  I was sore.  I didn’t want to be out there because it was hot, and even working on my tan wasn’t sufficient reason to keep going. 

My mind raced as my mind will do as I am walking.  There is no easy way to say this.   I got to thinking about my Mom and Dad.  I got to thinking about them aging.  I started thinking I have not been the best son lately. That I wanted them to know they I am better now than when they brought me into this world. 

The truth is my weight has always been a barrier between me and my parents.  I sometimes feel like they had me signed up for Gastric bypass at the age of 23.  I know that isn’t true but sometime sit feels that way.  Sometimes I wonder if I don’t hang onto the weight as a way to show them that I can still be a good son even when I am really fat. 

Then I think all they ever wanted for me was the best life I could have.  My mom being a foodie and having to have gastric bypass knows all to well how and what I do to myself.  I don’t know.  I am not even sure what I am trying to say anymore.  I love my parents.  I am lucky to have them, and I need to be more appreciative to them because I do miss them.

However, I was thinking about them.  I was thinking about growing up on the Southside of Terre Haute. I thought about how much I hated high school.  I thought about the breaking of my mind that just completed when I was 21 and Europe but started when I was 18.  I think about the stress I put on myself back then to have the perfect party.  To make sure everyone else was happy.  I never took the time to ask myself if I was happy. 

I thought about all this stuff and that is when the monkey, that little fucking monkey finally showed its ugly self.  I was walking and the little bastard grabbed me around my shirt collar and pushed me against a tree and got up in my face. 

He was awful.  He was me.  Not me as I am, but me as I would be if I had chosen Sweet Lady H over food.  It was a version of me that would be if I had followed another path and stayed on the booze or other drugs.  He was think, to thin, and his skin sagged.  It was loose on his face and around his chin.  He wore a Navy blue blazer, with a collared shit underneath.  The neck button was undone and his tie hung loosely around his neck.  He wore khaki’s and was some how holding me against a tree but his feet weren’t touching the ground it was strange.

In his rasping horse voice he told me it was no use.  That it didn’t matter what I did.  It was to late.  They would never know.  They would never see me as I was meant to be.  That I would fail this time just like I have ever other time because that is what I was a disappointment.  My parents would never understand that I am better me now that I have ever been and that my mind was at ease and now I was ready to deal with the rest of my demons. 

He laughed in my face and he told how pathetic I was.  That I couldn’t even stick to Tyson program for 90 days.  That I failed and went to McDonald’s on Friday and that was just the beginning of many more failures.  It was my KA.  The only place I was meant to was down.   He told me that I might as well quit walking because it wasn’t going to do me any good.  He said that the last six months and my blog was a joke.  Just look at yourself you weight he same now as you did then, how have you gotten better?

I tried to block him out and keep going.  I couldn’t.  I was locked eye to eye with this monster and I could see the insanity rolling off him.  I could smell a sick and dank order rolling off his breath.  I could feel his unshaven cheek press against mine.  I felt his hot breath on my ear and I heard him say “It was me, it was always me.  I have stopped you so many times before.  I will stop you this time as well.”  He cackled and that laugh held nothing but malice in it.  “You can’t undo what you have done.  You can’t.” His breath came in short quick gasps.  “They will never see you succeed.  You Mother, Father, Sisters and Brothers will never see you succeed.  Because you losing weight and getting better is a punch line the joke.  The one they have all been laughing at for years.”

I was twenty minute into a 50-minute walk at this point and this monster owned all the space in my head.  It is hard when you look into yourself and see you only true enemy is you.  You see your weakness.  You see your suffering.  You see you letting life pass you by, not because something some else did to you but because of what you did to yourself. 

I failed myself most of my life.  I let myself fail most of my life.  I accepted that it was ok to be less of a person than I should have been.  I accept that now.  I accept that I can’t blame this on anyone else but myself.  I have to own this.  I have to be willing to stand and be true.  It isn’t enough to just talk about the tower; I have to want to get there. 

I thought about some many things while this little demon monkey was in my face.  I thought about the 475 lbs prison I built for myself.  I thought about being alone.  I thought about my friends, and my family.  I thought about those fucking tears that still won’t fall.  The entire time with my monkey in my face or in my ear and I walked on. 

I walked on and I pushed through the pain.  I pushed hard.  I walked angry. I was angry.  Angry at me because I am not living the life I want.  I was angry because the biggest obstacle in my life has always been the space in my own head.  As beautiful as my mind can be, it can also be a prison, or a mind trap. 

I realized since April I have not looked at my pictures one.  I have not thought about my ideal image.  I realized that I have been sleep walking through my own fucking life.  There is to much I want to do and need to do before I can do that.  So, I walked a little harder.

I walked and walked.  I pushed as hard as I could.  I felt like I was moving really fast, but I was only going about 3 mph but I was moving.  I was moving and I was like you know that little fucker is wrong.  That Monkey on my back and in my ear and in my face is fucking wrong. I am not the same.  I am not.  I am better.  I am getting better.  I can walk for hour now and not feel like I am on deaths door. 

So grabbed the little fucker by his shirt collar and I said, not today fuck face and not anymore.  I have to walk on.  I have to walk hard.  I have to free my mind.  I have to cut this monkey off my back.  I have to reprogram my subconscious. So for twenty minutes today out front and in the sun, I did just htat.  I thought about the kid in the green shirt.  The boy in the navy fleece next to the statue in Germany and promised myself,  I would stand and fight.  I would be true.  I not let that monkey ride for free anymore.  Now that I have seen him, I think it is time to face him.  I think it is the mountain and the viper all over again because it is a battle for the ages. 

I am going to rip that fucking monkey off my back and I am going to the Tower.  I am going to race again. I am going to have a good healthy life.  I will have the life I have dreamed of.  I will do this.