Patrick, Nachos, and All of the Feels

Last night, I bumped into an old friend of mine. I was hopeful that I would see Patrick. His social media page mentioned that he was coming back to Maine for a visit.

I won't give you a lot of information about my friend. He was coming home after some challenging aspects of letting go. I have yet to check this out with Patrick, so I will err on the side of caution. I knew he needed to come home to reboot, and recharge.

So I went to a place where gay men focus on recovering issues on Friday evenings. I wanted to see my friend. And sure enough, he was there. I stole a hug and a kiss before we started. Then we got down to the business of recovery. It was a productive meeting, and the energy in the room was fantastic.

When things came to an end, my friend and I embraced again. I asked if he wanted to go with tradition and meet with the guys for dinner, or get together for some "Mikey time."

Patrick had future plans with folks from the group, so we agreed to meet at Denny's on Congress Street. I had selfish reasons for wanting to go there. It's close to my house, and I was working in the morning. We agreed to meet at the old recovery haunt. The classic, meeting after the meeting spot in Portland during the late 80's and early 90's.

We embraced again in the parking lot and ventured inside. The moment we sat down, I had to make a declaration.

I'm having all of the feels! 
What kind of feels? asked Patrick.
All of them! I said.

I quickly recalled all the times we and others had hung out here after meetings. It was as if I could see the members, sitting in their booths; a low cloud of smoke, hovering over the tables. We both took turns, filling in the blank spaces of our experiences with memories of people helping us. I added that my dear friend Patrick was so helpful to me.

Patrick has something about him that I do not. My perception is that he has always worn his sexuality like a loose garment. Comfortable and inviting. Not in a come hither way, but safe, secure and reassuring.

25 years ago, Patrick scared the shit out of me!

We returned from memory lane to more recent events. I let Patrick talk first. He's been dealing with loss, and I wanted to make space for him to lay all that out on the table. In what is typical fashion for a man that works on his recovery with amazing effort and grace, Patrick placed the pieces of the situation before his friend. And I was honored to bear witness to this (and all phases) of his journey.

We spent some time talking about my recent journey. Patrick listened and offered encouragement and candor in equally loving doses. We also worked through a plate of nachos, and each had a dessert.

During my all too brief meditation this morning, I thought of how blessed I have been to have this man in my life. Then I realized that the depth of my friendship with Patrick and other people is directly proportional to my willingness to engage in, and process, my trauma history.

I share these snippets of my life for the benefit of those that may feel isolated and alone with their history. Doing the work (However haltingly) and the passage of time has softened the rough edges of my history, while creating these wonderful, powerful memories of resilience, support, and recovery.

As of this writing, there have been 678 views of this blog in just over ten days. I am deeply moved that so many people have come together to this place to experience recovery from adverse childhood experiences.

I would like to make space for you, the reader, to share your experiences as well.

Thank you.

M