Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 8

YOU ARE ALLOWED TO CLOSE WINDOWS OR KEEP THEM OPEN




Not every open window offers a warm and welcome breeze. There are windows, which greet with artic blast and little else. Frosted cheeks and chapped lips, I face these frigid openings believing it is my lot to forge ahead in this bluster. Never did I think to shut the glass on this disagreeable weather. I am allowed to close windows but I didn’t know it. Every irksome thing that comes my way is not mine to face; many things will pass my way. This does not make them my responsibility. On the other hand, when spring blows honeysuckle through the air, it is a fine idea to prop the window open with a stick.


Wave gently good-bye to yesterday.


*

Migration

Why does an alcoholic leave the drink behind?
To go where it’s warm,
because drunkenness has become cold comfort,
because the climate has changed.

The wind resists the flight from the bottle
and the initiative to break the flow
is rotated among the flock.

Though each member of the band plays their part,
the one diverting the air just ahead of me
and the one just behind trumpeting
still hold the majority of my attention.

Flocking is my primary purpose
because survival is the intention of life,
demise the intent of my illness.

One more sober day is all I can ask,
it’s all I ever need,
it’s all that’s ever offered.

[Tommi]

Congratulations is all I'll say for now. It's the middle of the night . .

"Wave gently good-bye to yesterday."

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 9

PICTURES AND FRAMES


I paint my way into the corners of the frame. Each picture I fill diligently, color, texture, all the tricks I use. I work hard to get the desired effect. I hold nothing back; I put heart and hopes forward. I load my brush with pigment; I propel my tongue out of my mouth. I use it for balance like a kangaroo uses its tail. Stroke after stroke, I layer the image. My depiction is fresh to me. I bring the green, the red, the blue, blue, blues; all of those flow from me. The canvas fills; my soul soars through the tinctures. Then the disappointment begins, the complaint and lamentations. The perspective is off. I can’t seem to contain this scene within the confines of this gilded prison. I re-adjust. I tilt my head; I paint from the bottom up, then the top down. No, no. I must pick up a new canvas, the frame oak, burnished and honeyed brown. I cast to the side the gilt and sculptured casing; I lay it along the wall with the others, the many discards of life. As yet, the obvious has escaped me; the tint, the hue, angle, size may diverge but that is all. I have recreated the same scene in all the frames. In all my attempts, I have painted only one picture.


Learn your process.
*

Résistance


Resisting tough love
is approaching long run action
with short run thinking.

I hate to set the toddling babe down lest he fall,
but in the end if I do not put him down
he and I will both be the worse for it.

Whether I see a forest or I see trees
depends so very much on my perspective,
also on my willingness to delay
the prevention of minor scrapes
to eliminate the need for permanent scaring.

The theme is greater personal responsibility
and less irrational fear.
Guarding tomorrow’s possibilities
by not hamstringing them today
through the resistance of tough love
saves lives, it saves mine.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 10

VOLUNTARY MUTE



I have learned I don’t have to answer just because someone asks. I have learned to change subjects. I have learned it is better to say nothing. Repeating the phrase, ‘it’s just my opinion,’ followed with, ‘I could be wrong,’ has proven insufficient. Somehow things frequently turn out worse than I expected but, as of yet, none have turned out better; this upsets. People become angry when I am correct; they are less angry when I’m silent. I tell the truth and trouble follows. I didn’t get sober to lie. So, I keep my mouth shut. There is no reason to distress folks, and reality has a way of doing that. Silence is my new defense. I hide inside of it and find my new freedom. Unless it concerns my sponsor, my sponsee, or my cherished friend, battening down the hatches saves me from a tempest and spares others their outbursts.


Persuade yourself to breathe.

*

Conception 2

My active voice is the elixir of fire
my addiction would have me snuff
in order to keep us hidden from each other,
me hidden from you, you hidden from me
and no one noticing you or I pouring the drinks.

Minus my active voice
I slip easily into unconsciousness,
my effectiveness doused.

My active voice is the light in my room
the candle in my window,
the glow within me,
which illuminates my days as well as my nights.

Moving ever forward the gyroscopic precision
of this voice never fails me
if I keep my “listening ears” turned on and tuned in.

My active voice is and will always be
the live wire connection of my Higher Power
uniting with me through people, places and things.

My effective conscience
is everything that results from this bond.
I run at an unfathomable rate of efficiency
when my active voice is on,
my feet fail to touch the ground as I fly to right action,

The nature of my effective conscience
is just that, nature,
as natural as if I were not carrying a fatal malady,
but instead possessed the secret to serenity,
which in fact I do: sobriety.

[LeftWriteFemme]

March 11

THE WALL OF PLEASANT




How quickly I am protected by a sweet smile. A disarming countenance and a gentle phrase save my skin and psyche. No longer do I defend my reputation as a wit or critic. I let it all flow by. The simpler I appear the more effective the facade. The energy I conserve not fighting losing battles is well spent in the company of like-minded sober friends in the pursuit of sober lives. I stay out of the fray and behind this partition. Its insides are posted with announcements proclaiming my opinion and the lunacy of the person on the other side. The reading of these notices does not persuade me to dismantle the enclosure but encourages me to keep it sound. Many years of shelter behind this now vine covered fortification allow restraint of my words, spoken and written, to safeguard my sanity. When I am gifted with comment, I am spared the desire for credit. Boundaries are a blessing and living within them a saving grace.


Reconnect to hope.
*

Creed
We have a long standing family tradition
of viewing miracles as tragedy;
this custom has afforded us many
a fine escape from the unknown.

Most things in life are bad; people, places, things,
this belief is protective though useless.
Ultimately I feel this belief is not what colors
the dynastic impression of the miraculous,
but the apprehension is due to the limited nature of the thing.

I come from a line of dissatisfaction;
miracles are provided when what is desired is panacea.
If everything is not imperially resolved
then it is all for naught

Because the same psyche
which cannot begin a process
without a guaranteed outcome
can’t pickup the slack after a triumphant start.

Give it all to me tied with a bow,
I will begin the critique from there
though I will accept, offer me a beginning
fraught with uncertainty and I will decline.

A secure entrenchment is preferred to inexact risk.
I will die with my boots on,
but I mustn’t leave the house.

[Bad_boi]

As of next month I will be 3 years sober. I haven't abused caffeine in any form, pills or drinks in 1056 days. In this span of time I have noticed considerable changes. I have more natural energy, my thoughts are more clear and level headed.

I remember the day I quit. It was the day after I OD'd on Nodoz and Redbull. I was watching videos online about welding. They were talking about how you can't weld if you have a pace maker. I decided that I didn't want to screw up my heart so I could be a metal worker. As of this year I started my first welding course. I am proud to say I have a reason to beat my demons.

[LeftWriteFemme]

Originally Posted by Bad_boi

As of next month I will be 3 years sober. I haven't abused caffeine in any form, pills or drinks in 1056 days. In this span of time I have noticed considerable changes. I have more natural energy, my thoughts are more clear and level headed.

I remember the day I quit. It was the day after I OD'd on Nodoz and Redbull. I was watching videos online about welding. They were talking about how you can't weld if you have a pace maker. I decided that I didn't want to screw up my heart so I could be a metal worker. As of this year I started my first welding course. I am proud to say I have a reason to beat my demons.

Congratulations! Welding is wonderful.....sobriety makes so many things possible in my world, things I never thought could ever be in my grasp and yet today they are my reality! Good luck in all you do, Sherrie