Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 5

DOLL

“Why is your face all red?” asked my sponsor.
“I didn’t get my way,” I responded.
“And this crimson appearance is the result?”
“You see that it is. I was very careful about what I wanted and worked hard to be reasonable.”
“And Baby, you were. You did nothing wrong. Your ego was in check and you kept your expectations in proportion.” said my sponsor.
“Then why didn’t it work out my way?”
“I only have a sad and simple answer for you. The result had nothing to do with you, your wants, expectations or desires. The whole experience boils down to only one thing: It was not that type of party, Doll.”
“Oh.”


Promise yourself tears like rain and smiles like sunshine.
*



Discussions with my Disease


“You’re not the girl I used to know.”
“Not the girl you used to love is what you mean?”
“You’re different is all I mean to say.”

“The rest you leave there to rot, unsaid?”
“Something has happened to you.”
“Is it something that you do not like?”

“I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“Or is it that you never knew?”
“One false move could break us up.”

“All your moves are false
why will one more cause such change?”

[Novelafemme]

Yesterday's meeting was profound (as usual) and completely spot on. It blows my mind that each meeting I attend seems to be specifically fine tuned so that it dives into exactly what I am struggling with.

Obsession. Um, ya.

That oh-so-fun way we take something and turn it over and over and around and upside down in our brains, picking it apart and unraveling it until it has been dissected and pinned down at every appendage, all so it fits into an acceptable version of what we want it to be...so it either fails or meets our expectations.

How exhausting.

We, as a species, do this innately. It is biologically programmed into our developing psyches. The key to releasing your obsessions is to see them as stepping stones out of the darkness and into the light of day. Stepping outside the realm of ruminative thinking in order to sit with what exactly the object of that thought is trying to show us.

Just one drink and I'll feel calm and be able to unwind.

One more slice of cake and I won't feel so sad and empty inside.

The perfect car will help me find the perfect person who will then complete me.

The perfect clothes will mask how ugly I feel inside.

These obsessions only further remove us from the freedom of ego and self. The truth is that there is no "perfect" scenario that will lead to that ever elusive peace of mind. Peace of mind is something we have to cultivate and tend to on a daily basis by working the steps and holding ourselves accountable for our thoughts, actions and deeds. When we get off track it is up to us to guide our minds back to mediations such as the Serenity Prayer.

*taken from my own personal notes

[Girl Friday]

Two meetings today.

What I learned:

" Take the 'personal' out of being a person.

Sometimes we do great wrong in the course of our dysfunction. No one is exempt from fallibility, mistakes, or just good old fashioned stupidity.

Anger is a healthy emotion and many of us struggle to put it into perspective, given our experiences as or with addicts. We talk a lot about what to do when we're angry and how to process those feelings. But when we're wrapped up in our justified angst we sometimes forget one very important thing: each one of us will be on the opposite side of similar circumstances soon enough. It is inevitable that, sometime in the near future, someone will be angry with us for our own behavior or decision-making and we will be the ones bearing up under that 'justified' displeasure and scorn. This is one of the best reasons there is to stop taking another person's mistakes personally.

We've learned that it doesn't take a drink to make someone act like a drunk. It also doesn't take an idiot to make a stupid mistake. (You're a perfectly intelligent person, right?!) Mistakes are part of the human process. If you took every mistake as a personal affront you would have no time for living.

Conversely, it doesn't take a saint to embrace compassion when wronged. At the end of the day, pressing the victim advantage after you've been hurt won't make anything better and actually might make a whole lot of things worse. Say your piece and then let go.

Thank you to everyone who shared part of their story and/or their advice with me. I'm going to go apply it to what's left of life.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 6

THE ONE I BOUGHT

There are fairy tales I never gave credence to. Multiple bear stories don’t move me. Cats with footwear have not warranted a second thought. True love-----now that one I still buy hook, line and sinker. Work hard and true love will fix the rest; that is what I have always believed. The evil spell I have walked under during my sad little life will be broken only by the durable and all-fulfilling love of my betrothed. Each time this plan fell through, the blame was leveled at the wrongness of the match but not the wrongness of the plot. Anytime I work to be restored to sanity by one person, I have displaced a rightful power and thrown myself to the sea.


Let a whisker width of optimism carry your day.

*

Enclosed Space


In the echo chamber it is the cymbals
which cause the most pain.
The drums resound, deep and loud,
but it is the crashing of brass that drives me wild.

Cotton, wool and sealing wax
cannot put my head at ease.
Resonate walls with their hollow effects
create the feedback loops of hurt.

Like the endless reflection of parallel mirrors
the sounds come back to me with relentless repetition.
Aural illusion might have been the idea,
but chaos is the result.

Leaving the space between these ears
will be, will allow, the band to play on
without the benefit of my torment.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 7

HOSTAGE DOLL



A doll stands wedged between two mailboxes, naked and exposed, the edge of the road passing her by. She is there to pay for my self-loathing. I throw my treasures in the air as skeet to be shot and shattered. Hate is the obnoxious microbe, which sours my digestion and rids me of nutrition and affection. I purge love and tenderness. I rip the covers from my playthings and leave them to bleed. I hide in my self-destruction. I put garish displays street-side and cry my tears alone. I can not ransom innocence to pay the price of fear. I must bring in the broken babies and put hate out on the curb.


Tickle wit with realism.
*

Weight Problem


I have trouble raising my 50 pound hand in meetings.
In between meetings I have the problem
of trying to dial the 500 pound phone.

Which leaves me with this 2,000 pound weight
on my chest and no air to breathe, no life to lead.
There is the difficulty of the relentless tyrant,
my would be sponsor, the person I fail to ask.

Plus the home group that does not support me,
since they do not know my name.
All the while folks laugh and talk and have a good time,
I can see none of them have suffered from my weight problem

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 8

THREE ROOSTERS


The three roosters come to the meeting to hear themselves crow. The membership purely spectators in the longest, lowest, loudest sobriety competition. Those of us in the fray 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.


Tour your past but leave at closing time.

*
Abraxas



I was waiting for a magic person
and then you appeared.
I was dazzled;
I was under your spell.

In an attempt to prove myself
your natural assistant I sawed me in two.
Then I stepped into the vanishing cabinet
and promptly disappeared.

I was not wrong to see the miraculous in you,
but I never looked from your visage once you arrived.
The world around me melted at your entrance
and I flowed down the drain along with it.

I somehow expected a response from you,
but why respond to an empty room?
So, I will plug back into myself and power up.

Power draws power
and I will see if I can draw you once again.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 9

GULPING



The plug that lodges in my throat from too much, too fast, causes the anxiety to rise in me. The panic fulls my contracting muscles into rock solid revolt. 'I can’t live' is the predictable result. Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex does the same thing. My heart clots and my personality stops in mid flow. Everything, in carefully chosen well-chewed bites, makes the process proceed. My life works along workable paths if I stay away from oversized freight. I can never swallow myself whole; why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire?


Tumble your heart like a stone then warm it.


*

Prize Catch



There is a reason that fish flap and twist
when they are caught,
why even though they are in the air
they fight for the life that once was theirs

Only martyrs go without a fight,
it is good to know that at least this vice is not mine.
When I did not love my life its loss was not an actual change,
there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to struggle for.

Now I thrash at the feel of my loved life slipping from me.
It is good to know I have passion enough to rally a defense.
My life can be taken from me, but I haven’t lost my will to fight.

[nowandthen]

Celebrating 27 years being clean and sober today! It has been a wonderful, hard, and would not change a thing adventure to date

[RockOn]

Happy 27th Recovery Birthday to You, nowandthen!

I am so happy for you!!!!!

[RockOn]

Sherrie, your June 17th (today's) post is a wonderful read for me. Your writings are such a soul-soother. Thanks for continuing to "keep coming back" and sharing with us.

Your friend always,
Brock

[femmsational]

Originally Posted by nowandthen

Celebrating 27 years being clean and sober today! It has been a wonderful, hard, and would not change a thing adventure to date

Happy Birthday!! It's a fun journey, isn't it :-)

[LeftWriteFemme]

May 18

STRONG WORDS


Serious language, deep language, real language helps me by grounding me. I don’t have to be nice for company when I can just tell the truth. I needn’t have guests with virgin ears or unrealistic expectations, and I no longer pander to such foolishness. I know the layered meanings of my words and value the intensity of a large vocabulary. I am not intimidated by prudish co-conspirators who stare down pointed noses at powerful utterances. Weak words make poor boundaries and breed victims. I will not be trapped by niceties; I will speak clearly out of necessity.


Allow your integrity to increase the value of your truth.



*
Martinizing


The price of upkeep scares me, it daunts me even.
I pay the initial cost, I have bitten that bullet
of required outlay; the continued charges for maintenance
push my face in the mud until my ears clog.

Avoiding the need of perpetual responsibility
to things, relationships, life, doesn’t change the reality,
rather it embeds in my skin a slick denial and an indignant retort
to the drycleaners and shoe-shiners of the world.

Waste and want play tag inside a misunderstanding
of what is required of me; of what life requires in general.
I must make quietude, draw a map
and find my way to this psychic change;

Unfortunately all the little voices scream
“Yes, you paid the price to see the show,
but you don’t make enough to stay!”

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 18

CLONING DAYS


The novelty of sobriety causing sweet days wore to gauze and I attempted control. I cut, pasted and sutured elements of good living in an effort to make 24 hours of personal perfection. I was so sure I could replicate these jewel like days. I would make perfect spheres, everything round and even, one after another like a string of pearls. The more I tried the harder God laughed. Days are their own planets; Saturn is different from Mars and today will have just as little to do with tomorrow if I let it all work out. Perfection is a thing, which is born to live, not a thing I can craft in a dish or a test tube. Life must will-out or chaos will prevail.


Take two words and make a seesaw in your mind.
*

Who is Who

Remake the bed for the restless child in you
who sleeps better if attention is paid to the small kindnesses.
Placating her saves you the sound of her plaintive cry.

If you teach yourself
or allow yourself to grow fond of her, this child you,
these simple chores will seem light, refreshing, natural.

If you fight her she will grow strong
and you will grow weak.
Don’t resist nature.
Don’t resist your nature.

Take a hug to share
as you would take an apple divided
on a walk in the woods with a companion.

Share emotional embraces,
let your thoughts surround her
when you make plans and do deals.

If you treat her as if she is the best of you,
you will become the best of her.

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 19

THE LANDING


Risers and runners lift from where I stand. Here I make my decision. I climb and face the challenges of my life. Each new test returns me to this square; the steps ascend in every direction. No matter how many times I have scaled this set of twelve, I must start anew with even the slightest change of direction. Like facets on a diamond’s base, the flights emerge from the tiny base and hold the world of possibilities within their meticulous surface. I look into these precious mirrors to see who I am and where to go, though none of this would be possible without a place to stand.


Chart the constellation of your features.

*
In the Beginning is the End

I wonder if the road would show the reflection
of its end would I walk down it still.
I always decide that I wouldn't want to miss anything,
not even the most painful things,
yet this may simply be a flaw in my upbringing.
An overvaluing of survival.

What of you?
If the knowledge of beginning and end
were within your grasp would you begin?
Would you flee the end?
This end or every end?

Or is it the beginning that you fear?
And why not, for doesn’t every beginning
hold within it every end?

[LeftWriteFemme]

June 20

THE PALMIST


Last night I had a silly dream. I was in a tent at a carnival and the woman across the table held my hand so dear, looked into my eyes and said, “Today you will go to a meeting that will save your life.” I thanked her and left full of anticipation. When I awoke, I was filled with the same strong sensation. I rose, washed and left for the meeting with anticipation. I paid close attention to the coffee maker, those setting up chairs with me, and the newcomer. I listened carefully to the speakers and the sound of the group’s voice closing in prayer. Nothing out of the ordinary happened… other than my realization that every meeting saves my life.


Believe in contradiction.

*
Notice

I put myself on the auction block
and wait to see how high a rate
I will have to pay to become slave to my illusions.

I have worked so ardently to free myself
from past enslavements and here I stand naked on this block,
selling myself and hoping I will fetch a price.

Poisonous pedagogy is atomized, contained in every breath,
I don’t know how to live apart from it
and thus I stand waiting to be bought.

It no longer matters how I got up here the first time
for who cares that slaves enslave.
All that matters is that there seems no safe way off this block
or out of this web, or down this street;

The world seems a bad neighborhood everywhere I turn.
Yet I must admit that standing here affords a view
I would not have if I were buying.

If I am a slave I can have hope of someday being free,
if I am a owner what hope might there be?