Friends of Bill W.

[tomboystud]

Originally Posted by LeftWriteFemme

May 11



Out Standing in My Field



Trying to remove expectations is like trying to unseed a field; it is damn near impossible until something crops up, though when it does I must act swiftly lest things take root. Tedious as it is, weeding the fields of unreasonable expectancy saves me from so much frustration later on. I don’t recognize it, but expectations are like little dictators forever ruling me; leaving no room for G-d or direction, not to mention flexibility or change. Tap roots dive for the vein and my life depends on fleet elimination of unsuitable desire. I can want. I can strive. I can not leave expectations to grow in my garden.





Screen your comments when you can


*

STRETCHING

Stretching is not equivalent to change
Limbering is nice
And warms the muscles, body and soul.

Over-reaching, over-compensation is trauma
It distorts the symmetry
And breeds erroneous thinking.

Extension beyond the bounds sets me up for a fall
I misinterpret touching with finger tips
With a firm and able grasp.

I don’t step forward because I believe
I have a hand on things
Failing to see how this is different from an embrace.

The sinew tears
And the fabric of life is destroyed
I lean forward but I go nowhere.

Wow both of these have totally touched home today and I am so grateful that you share so much of you with us. Thank you for being an amazing friend to me.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 12



Box-a-week Tao


I am going through so many changes surrounding the cleaning out and getting rid of process. The flat sided panic that I experience while even attempting the smallest disposal seems impossible. I would deny it if I didn't have the repetition of this experiment to prove it as fact. I have now moved into the part of the illness where I compulsively clean the things that I have emptied in order to avoid facing the next step, the next box, the next mess. This is a two part trap: part 1. If cleaning can absorb all the time I will not be able to do anything else. Part 2. If I can't keep it clean enough then I have an excuse to give up and not empty the next space. I am trying to keep moving without being mean to myself. Because mean is worse than mess.




Try not to lose things you never had


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CHOICE

Growth is my decision
I don’t need conflict or catastrophe to bring me to change
I choose each day, come what may, to roll out the refuse
I am not tempted to leave it in to rot just because the sun is shining

Good days are good times to improve
How could integrity be retarded by joy?
I am not punished into recovery

I will never accept a Higher Power who set up a system like that
And give wide birth to people who claim their Higher Power did
My bottom may have been an inducement to start
But choice keeps me coming back.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 13


Be That Girl


I have tried to protect the investment I made in the past by selling the soul of my future. I arrived self-possessed, a winning girl, but I slid the self from the scene leaving me simply possessed. I gained everything then lost it a piece at a time starting with the parts nearest my heart. I must draw the shards together once more and mend this lovely crystal. The art of living is insured by my action not by grasping at slivers in terror of what slips from my fingers. I am what I have inviolate and all else comes to fruition when I am pleased; when I am myself.



Be aware which pens are poison


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SOOT

I diligently work to remove the soot.
The residue from the last time I tried to hot wire my brain
When I attempted the short circuit of my safety-thinking
I caught my life on fire and flames, though brief, were spectacular.

Electric fires are very jarring
The burning insulation toxic
It leaves bare, stuttering lines crossing and recrossing

My stable base, the methods I once used to keep sane, is shot
All because I wanted to go joyriding in my thoughts
Suspended reality sounds so good but always bursts into flame
Leaving me with soot removal as a hobby

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 15


Madame Alexander


I am, too naïve; if you show me kindness I will believe you, follow you, obey you, so, I have rules. These rules do not protect me, but they do make a box for me to seal myself inside. Where I will ship myself, stack myself; hide myself so well, that even I do not know. I pull the flaps down and pray not to have to make any real decisions. I fold my arms and close my mind, believing I could never adequately open it enough to safely live in the world outside of this closet. Here I sit wondering what to write on this label in order to be left alone all the while longing for true love, a thing never given to a quivering china doll shut up in a carton at the bottom of a wardrobe.



Make a suggestion box for your heart


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CELEBRATIONS

You wore a wrist corsage to the dump?
You said to celebrate every activity
I retorted to my sponsor
Yes, by doing them with purpose.

Not everything needs to be a production number
Sometimes just showing up is enough
Putting to much energy into preparation
Can leave you without resources

It’s okay to make an appearance
Do the simple act and move on
That is a celebration in its own way
Don’t squander your vitality on the mundane.

Do you know what I mean, asks my sponsor?
Don’t waste flowers on trash heaps, I answer
Yes, and don’t wipe your bottom with poetry
I mention this in case you get any ideas!

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 16


Life Events in Burlap




Two left feet in a gunnysack allows no forward motion and creates only a windmill that screws us into the ground. There is more perspective, front and back, more view, but nothing to do with it, nowhere to go. We are better off as book ends than this awkward foolish pairing. You go your way and I go mine works fine if we are cut lose, if any one person can be free of any other. You offer to change your perspective if I change mine. I smile, almost laugh at the idea of two right feet in a gunnysack and no improvement in sight. This is not grade school, not field day, I must turn to you or you to me and nothing else, no fair is fair, no turn taking. Because my past is not your future and your future is not my past. Face forward on both accounts and then we run the race.




Allow your imagination to put on a slideshow for your resistance

*

THREE ROOSTERS

The three roosters came to the meeting
To hear themselves crow.
The membership purely spectators
In the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition.

Those of us in the fray, we are like picked-on puppies
Who learn slowly not to put our heads up
To spare our eyes and hearts.

The same noise comes repeatedly
Suspicion is never aroused
The heads nod at all the right places
Orchestrated for ego and nothing else.

The meeting is closed with a momentary prayer
For the still suffering, in and out of the room
I pray that will be enough.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 17


Underoos



Why is it that I store undies I never wear in my panty drawer and leave no room for my favorites? Why is it that I have things in cupboards that have not seen the light of day in years, but they are kept as sacred? I don’t use my storage for me it is saved for obligation to inherited obsession. I live on the fringes of the only life I have; I didn’t question this, didn’t see it for what it really is. I don’t live in my skin only my head. I don’t enjoy today only plan for tomorrow. After years at this address it is time for me to move in. The mortgage is more than paid; it is time to spend my inheritance.






Be kind when you win; be kind when you lose


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PIROUETTES

I turn and spin, the world flashes as I go.
I am erect, proud of my self-possession.
I can stand the forces of vector rotation
Public opinion and gravity.

Sobriety has made a dancer out of me.
I sprint the stage and take my place.
I know the moves and trust, as best I can
The choreographer and choreography

I feel the wind move on my body as I revolve
The blur of existence spreads out before me
I can let it pass

To spot myself and keep my upright posture
The only place that requires my clear and unobstructed view
Is the line of sight from my sponsors eyes to mine.

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 18



Pearly Whites

Reaction is a separation, a polarization; it cuts you from me and God from we. Response is a connection, an inclusion; threading a line from you to me and stitching G-d into our pockets. I realize now that any positive connection is an instantaneous link to my Higher Power and can’t help but bring us closer. Tiny feet carry beauty and kindness; tiny teeth tear the fabric of the world to bits. I must let my footwork conduct my life’s work and seal my lips and reserve the dentistry.





If you take the cake don’t take it far



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DRIVEWAY TIME

Layer after layer of blue stack the sky
The moon risen and the sun dipping away
I wait for the twin lights, the constellation of headlights
My ride to the meeting.

It will be the entry vehicle to a world of population
Leaving behind the galaxy of me, the single star
I stand silent and the feeling of fellowship carries the miles

Laughter flies the winds of memory
And all the old jokes of truth and tribute are fresh
And abide with me until the car arrives
And we make it all new again.