Room for Rent – By Marc Mcmahon

Deep down inside of me, right down the hallway from where I keep my skeletons in the closet, was an old not so well lit room. It had no windows, wreaked of stale beer and cigarette smoke and was probably one of the most inhospitable of places you can find if you ask me.

I was in between jobs back in 96 and decided to rent that old dingy spare room to a seemingly polite gent that I became acquainted with by accident. He moved in right away which made me extremely happy.

As the next twenty years went by him and I became very close, almost as if we were one. He took my reserved and fairly inexperienced at life self, on a tour of an elaborate tour of good times (or so I thought). We drank, did more drugs than I thought was humanly possible, gambled, got in trouble and chased women from one corner of Seattle to the other.

Six months ago, I noticed myself not being quite as resilient as I was in my youth. I started having a hard time partying with him at the level he was able to maintain, and started thinking that maybe there might be a better way for me to live my life. One that wasn’t so selfish and self-indulgent. One that might even have some care and concern for the well-being of other people. One that was full of meaning, purpose, hope and love.

As I pondered these new ideas of mine I began to get a deep seated sense that this was the direction my life needed to go. The more I prayed, the more I meditated, the stronger the pull towards these new ideas and this new life got.

I also began to notice how incredibly self-absorbed my roommate had become and I started to find it quite appalling. Then one morning, I woke up to a loud party down there in his room well before the time that I had to get up and start my day, which really pissed me off.

That was the final straw. I realized Alexander addict’s behavior was no longer acceptable to me. The direction I was planning on taking my life had no space for him in it. So I kicked him and his unsuspecting friends out, right there on the spot.

Having had that spare room, down that hall, deep inside of me full for so long, I now felt a tremendous emptiness. I began to miss him despite the pure drama, chaos, and hurt he brought with him. It didn’t matter. He still filled that now, very empty room.

I couldn’t allow this empty feeling to hinder my growth or deter me from reaching the goals on my new quest. So I made an executive decision to spend my time and the little energy I had left, remodeling that old dingy, stale room.

I tore out the twenty-year-old beer stained, smelly shag carpet and replaced it with brand new bamboo hardwoods. I cut a hole in the wall to add a big picture window so for the first time ever I could get some sunshine into that place that’s never had any.

I also extended the sewer line down past that hallway room and put a new septic tank in at the back of the house. That way when shit ran down hill it wouldn’t always stop there, build up, and poison the rest of the house as in the past.

With all the renovations complete, I put my room for rent sign back out front and proudly listed my number on it. Sure enough, a gentleman in dire need of a residence showed up, looking for somewhere clean and fresh and new to start again.

He tells me he wants the room sight unseen, and he is on his way over with rent money and his belongings. When he arrived I could just sense the gentleness of his spirit as he approached the house.

He politely walked up to me on the porch and reached out his hand to shake mine. He was a tender-hearted little Asian man who introduced himself by his first and last name Me’ Self.

Me’ has been renting this room at my house now going on five months and he is a pleasure to have around. He is a recovering addict with a heart the size of Texas.

He writes personal real talk memoirs about the hell he went through in active addiction, and of the blessings that his new life has brought him. He recovers very Out Loud and doesn’t much care if anyone takes offense to it either way or throws the importance of some weird anonymity clause at him.

All that is important to him, it seems, is that he is as transparent, forthright and completely unhindered as possible. He takes the misery, pain, and heartache that he experienced walking through his own personal hell and uses it, to hopefully help someone else not to have to see so much of their own.

I am so glad I met Mr Me Self. He has helped me to grow in ways I did not know were possible and helped me to find a meaning and a purpose for my life.

To be continued!