I'm hovering 'round the six-month-mark (a thin sliver of my life, half of which I spent chemical-dependent) and I'm just now detecting hints of a type of 'mental hygiene' I probably should've picked up around age 12.

Right now I have to keep all my reference points labeled - like a biology dissection lab schematic. Wisdom it is not - I’ll be the first to admit, it’s more like a serenity-yardstick.

I start with the trust and acceptance that I can capably tie my shoes, then build on that. I finally discovered that tying the shoelaces of life is easier than building on the fear and resentment that mechanical brain viruses are trying to infect me via subliminal juxtaposition of angles in the Roman alphabet.

Surprise. People scare the shit out of me less and less, and here’s hoping the reverse is also true.

Most of the time I still just wear slippers, though.