04-23-2014, 04:21 PM | #2221 |
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04-24-2014, 04:46 AM | #2222 |
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April 24
ESCAPING THROUGH THE CEILING Up and away is my motto; upwardly mobile is my goal. If I can flee without leaving a track, I’m clean. No heart-wrenching walk down the aisle or the lane. No dust on my shoes. No possibility of stumbling. Grace at all cost. Empowerment through elevation. If I must leave my human plane to attain this, so be it. Give up my natural rights, such is life. But, yet, if I lose my bonds to earth what did the leaving gain me? I arise to appear better; as a result, I appear not at all. Hold your hand then touch your face. * Imperturbable Perfectionism is a cover, a blanket of lead; hard to move and rich with poison. What it tries to hide is my unwillingness to struggle and strive. It’s not a fear of failure, but the horror of success after a long hot pursuit. If I can stall on the intricacies of the first move there is no further movement. If I can fail before I begin there is no sweat, no stain, no stink. Catastrophe is no bother, but skinned knees are my undoing. Winning is not so important to me; my unfortunate goal is to look untroubled. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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04-24-2014, 04:48 AM | #2223 | |
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04-25-2014, 04:38 AM | #2224 |
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April 25
FEEDING THE MONSTER Who will feed the monster once they’ve made her? Her hunger burns in her like a beacon. Should I let her starve? Should I put her on rations of old crusts and tepid water? Rebuke her as if she were her own idea? Possibly bind her hands and cover her eyes? Stand her in line with the good girls and fit her in? Turn her visage from her desire and tell her to forget? Hold her hand and tell her that’s enough? When I stand in the face of her yawning hunger, what do I say? “It’s for your own good.” Well, that’s what ‘They’ said, too. Round the corners and square your shoulders. * Blinded Alcoholism hits me like a kind of blindness. I stagger through the living room cursing anyone who changes familiar placement or published timetables. Like every aspect of this disease shocked sightlessness is mine to deal with. I must pick up the white cane, procure the Seeing Eye pup, learn to read clustered Braille. When my vision clears in these well worked spaces I am relieved but I must accept that when I walk into a new room more often then not I will be blind again and must pick up my walking stick once more. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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04-26-2014, 05:51 AM | #2225 |
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April 26
HOW THINGS SEEM Not everyone who pushes me down is my enemy and not everyone who pulls me up is my friend. I have been seduced by the closeness of people who used me as their shield. When I have been held in the place of honor, the point man of life, I forgot that made me the replacement target for the one who stood behind me. I had been offended as I was thrown to the ground. The hands that shoved me, I saw as my rejecters. I was spared the tragedy and peril of the thing that flew by my ear thanks only to the grace of a thrust in the right direction. Accurate appraisal is my weakness. Seeing things for what they are is hard. Things are rarely how they seem. Grow tall with your grain and the years will grow around you. * Would You Rather a Lamp? I am a girl filled with expectations. Like a ginger jar filled, stuffed caulker block full, though the filling is the part which is unpredictable; It could be match books, or seashells, acorns or all those pretty capsules. This makes me erratic and sometimes volatile. Are you strong enough or far too sane to stay and help me sort the contents? It’s lonely work without a witness or a spotter. I rather be alone than with you reluctantly, so please try to shuck that husk and remain. Yes, I am sometimes capricious, but I try never to be cruel. I know sometimes you convince yourself that leaving me to my own devices is the wisest of courses, but don’t be fooled; You disappear due to your weakness not strength and the worst part about the price of abandonment is that everyone has to pay it. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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04-27-2014, 06:29 AM | #2226 |
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April 27
SERVICE AND SACRIFICE The difference between life and death in my recovery is the equal difference between service and sacrifice. If I offer you what is in my hand, fine. If I also give you my fingertips, I am lost. Service lightens the load in my heart; sacrifice removes my tools for living. When I go into debt for your existence, the cheer and optimism is sucked from my awareness. My eyes go dead and soon I follow. The cingulotomy of obligation crucifies my future and murders true hope and love. Service feeds my heart and yours. Renovating makes space. It builds the muscles for joy and contentment, pumping and refilling my plate with spirituality. Wriggle your toes and flex your mind. * Perkiomenville Being actually alive does not feel as good as I imagined the relief of not being dead would feel therefore I have anxiety and dread, or is it disappointment. I feel like a failure when I am in the process of trying I want to throw the pieces in the air and run. Does this mean I’m weak or does it mean I am frightened? Is there some heavenly host of other reasons why my crêpe paper soul twists and turns in the breeze of the marketplace? Some part of me was auctioned off and its removal left a psychic scar that even equanimity cannot ease. I am all things wonderful and yet there is this flaw, this toe tied thread which holds me back, holds me down with painful accurate precision. I look for the knife with which to cut it all the while wondering if this will turn it into a toe tag or a price tag. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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04-28-2014, 04:50 AM | #2227 |
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April 28
CHAPTER AND VERSE I remember being trained and rehearsed for finding the words which would release my soul from bondage. The scrupulous concern for detail pointed me to heaven. And yet I drank. Inside these rooms the path is wide, judgment is suspended and I have the right to be wrong. The penalties for error can be great but the privilege and risk are mine. As in all things, the extremists come. They have come to this place, too. Thumpers hound and belittle, threaten and cajole. They tell page numbers like punch lines and narrow the field at every opportunity. I can’t stay sober sitting on my old stool and I can’t maintain this desire by their chapter and their verse. Notes are numbers, so count out your time and sing your song. * Jane Street The space between wanting to live and not wanting to hurt is the alley in which I live. This lane is not as narrow as you might think, In some places there is room for parking on one side. Since I reside here more often than not I have filled it with many of the appliances, which allow me to pretend at life. It doesn’t afford a truly clean or cheerful locale, but there are laughs, sometimes flowers in the spring. Finding my way out of this is tricky. When unlocked I find these are backdoors to commerce and though better than being sold wholesale, retail is not what I was hoping to find as I wrest myself from a confined existence. I have heard of those who drive through plate glass ignoring the structure. I think this is less workable from the back. What is left when I can’t bully or climb? I guess I will have to throw my hands up and pray. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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04-29-2014, 04:36 AM | #2228 |
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April 29
WHEN A SNAPPER CROSSES THE ROAD What should I do? I see the soggy green/gray lump creeping the macadam too slow to survive for long. The surge in me, to aim and end the duckling eater's life, is a short-lived but palpable surge. My Disney style justice is dismissed but heard from nonetheless. Shall I pull over and assist? This turtle is as ill equipped for this stretch of road as I am ill equipped to aid in its conveyance. Should I reach with fingers or toes to something I know can extend its neck and sever me from parts I hold dear? The ever-present missionary in me has spoken and is silenced. In fact, what I can do is slow down and give wide berth. I know this creature is a danger, but never more so than me. Plot your graph and measure your curve. * Terry Bradshaw When someone wants to take the easy way out I condemn them for wanting ease and fail to register that they want out. I hear a whine when in fact it’s a cry. A challenge is rarely passed up by the able bodied, but must be foregone by the injured. Carried from the field is no personal victory, not a goal for sure. When I would rather watch than play I need to check for wounds not inflict them. It is not natural for me to sit in the stands, but accusation is never the way to get me on the field. Suit up when I’m whole and hide when I’m not. Absence is a fallback position for the fallen I have to help myself to get back up. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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04-30-2014, 04:07 AM | #2229 |
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April 30
PINK CLOUD When the pink cloud lands in my valley, my task is to walk. The pleasure of its presence can never outweigh the practice this cloud affords me. I walk in a haze of cherry blossom lightness; the future is a blur I do not fear. Forward motion seeds my inertia; my gyroscope is set. When dark clouds gather and the way is overshadowed, I will keep on. When the test begins and I must proceed in the obscurity of night, the lively steps of pink-cloud days will cheer and empower me. I can embed my future with right action and bank the confidence I feel today, saving it for the rain swept days that come to everyone. Progress is positive even when made in bliss. Get a cozy blanket for the times when the answers don’t come. * Reguess When in my sarcasm I suggested that you ‘guess again’, I realized that you were in fact guessing, guessing about everything, Guessing in order to create a process of elimination, a tool on which I now recognize you entirely depend. Guessing as a way of life is a tragedy. I’m not saying that trying to know every last thing in the world is an acceptable alternate goal, but to reach an adult age and not even be able to work your way up to a possible hunch is scary, scarier than even my sarcasm, Which at this moment seems interminable, but I’m sure you guessed that. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-01-2014, 04:34 AM | #2230 |
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May 1
HOLD CARD My bottom pulled my hold card to the table top. I turned it over and found I have a bit of value. Each time I turned over my will, my value increased. After many spins, the face cards appear; I’m the Jack, the Queen, the King. I revel in the time and practice it has taken to get here. I play my hand and take my chances. I have been privileged to pair with wonderful sober partners who turn themselves over and transform before my eyes. The years raise the ante and I play close to my chest. The stakes are high and if I turn in the wrong direction, I can be the Joker once again. Smell your meals before you eat them. * Leap Day When winter is almost at an end it becomes beautiful; a theoretical thing, which though it may hurt you, can not hurt you for long, therefore is safely appreciated by mere mortals. You don't have to beg for God's own protection, Time has become a friend and winter only a show. I will soon wake from this chilling fright, will in fact thaw from it in short order and needn’t fret though chilblains still catch at me now and then. I can stand at the window admiring frost and ice formed lace; intricate patterns whose beauty will soon be lost to me, Put away in favor of crocus and daffodil. The terrible loveliness of soon to pass trauma is not lost on my hyper-vigilance I grasp it, I just can’t seem to let it rest. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-02-2014, 04:18 AM | #2231 |
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May 2
THE MEAL Home cooking is the key. I want to order in, have my life delivered to the door. The takeout menus entice me. From three courses on china to burgers handed through sliding windows, it all sounds good and I request all for take home. But this is not the way. I must light the flame and chop the veg. I can’t have a life prepared by others. I can share recipes and suggestions; this is help not displacement. I can stand and cook with others and together make the feast. I cannot sit and wait to be served. I stand at the range while the sauce simmers and it comes clear; I am my own meal. Nothingness won’t necessarily consume you but it does block the view. * TWC I wake early and watch the lazy rain fall in slow fat random drops. I view it with silent awe, only part of my recently somnolent mind bewildered. Dawn advances toward me and I register a new concept: snow, it is snow; the sky had been, too dark to allow me to see the white, all I could comprehend was the fall. The lighter the sky becomes the more the precipitation behaves like snowfall. I muse this to my sponsor and she laughed, “Well, we all misname things in the dark, Sweetie, lighten up and give yourself a break.” You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-03-2014, 03:47 AM | #2232 |
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May 3
REALLY RAINING “Why do people ask if someone is really sober?” “They’re checking for the winners, I guess,” responded my sponsor. “But what does that mean?” “Well, when the clouds roll in and the next thing you know it’s really raining, you can clearly discern the difference between that and just a shower. The commitment of water saturates the atmosphere and the rain is the undeniable certainty. That is what people are looking for and they ask to discover if the person even comprehends the concept.” “What do they do if the person is really sober?” “Stand next to them and soak it all in.” Have double paned windows to insulate you from cosmic rays or constant criticism. * With and Without With my sponsor- Without my drinking buddies With my Big Book- Without my contrived dogma With my home group- Without my dysfunctional family With my step work- Without my mental masturbation With my sobriety- Without my insanity With all this I can live- Without all that You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-04-2014, 07:01 AM | #2233 |
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May 4
DESSERT I have to be my own appetizer; I have to be the thing that entices and intrigues me. I must be the roughage, the salad full of color and variety. The entree must be me, as well. The things that sustain me, the meat of my life, I have to supply and swallow down. I can be all this. I run to the sweetness of others but this cannot be my source of sustenance. The greater part of me needs to derive from me. I can set the table and fill it with the fullness of who I am. I am enough and others are dessert. Twinkies will never be sufficient. They can only be a treat. Make sure your work area is well ventilated. * Yield Don’t Stop If I let amazement stop my progress I will become landlocked instead of becoming free. Picture wagon wheels planted in Kansas when the destination had been California. Yes, the plains are great, but if that was not my aim it is a far cry from heaven. Arriving at any haven is tempting; when it crosses to captivating then to captivation, here is where the problem lay. Steps six and seven changed me and this is good. If I allow this to halt me this is disaster. If the wheels fall off the wagon I walk. If I grow too tired to walk I pant with my friends and we carry each other, we don’t stop. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-05-2014, 04:24 AM | #2234 |
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May 5
TRANSITIONS During the months of winter, the trees stand tall and leafless---static in their appearance, frozen in direction. The insurgence of spring brings to life the truth. The buds and flowers show the draw of their owners---the pull of life from the earth and sky. Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously given. These leafless giants open themselves as home and sustenance to the surrounding community---returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholeness. Celebrations of all I have call for me to give it all back, even during the time when we all look the same. Always step out of the spotlight before it burns you. * Pinocchio as a Girl I should be painting today instead of reframing the future, an unnecessary and ephemeral job at best. Kind of like lassoing an unborn colt, I try to put a rope around something that cannot get away. Outcome hasn’t much to do with foregone conclusion and wouldn’t I be better mixing colors and wetting brushes than cutting slices from a pie in the sky? But tomorrow seems more spacious than this crowded present and I con myself into believing this is a harmless trip to the fair. I lose my light, my thought, my sight with these thieving sojourns; leaving me to creak around because all that is left is wood. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-06-2014, 04:39 AM | #2235 |
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May 6
STREET SIGNS Hanging out on the corner of Disillusion Boulevard and Grief Road, then returning to that special spot on Despair Avenue, was my daily routine. I made the circle and never looked far afield. Widening my circuit allowed me to find Anticipation Place and Hopeful Terrace. I pushed my search and found roads, whose existence I never fathomed, intersecting, creating areas of intrigue. Optimism Court interfacing with Realization Way is the fairest of my finds, but many a fine street corner has me lurking, catching stray sunshine and encouragement. I make my home wherever the hospitality is available and return less often to the dark and stifling places of the past. Happiness is where you find it. Just make sure to read the signs. Exponential growth is a little thing that affects you in a big way. * A Good Ship Recently my life has taken on a surreal quality. I stand in front of myself as if I were a business to be run or a project to be undertaken. The intensity, uncertainty and drama seem to be on the wane. There are choices to be made and outcomes to be determined. This is all work and numbers, nothing at risk below the skin. My heart is secure, true love its protector, faith its inborn light. I am docked in safety harbor; the waves may rock me, but my anchor holds me fast. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-07-2014, 04:40 AM | #2236 |
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May 7
K-TURNS I do not believe in a universe that makes complete sense. I often find myself trapped because the things I pull into no longer feel firm. I attempt K-turns in alleys far too narrow for the maneuver. I can’t back myself through the passages I plunged into willingly. My faith doesn’t compute in reverse and I find this disconcerting. I may walk into the face of fire but find it impossible to turn my back on the flames. Today, a one-way faith is fine as long as I am moving forward. Allow talents to unfold like spring leaves. * The Little Black Dress The holes in my pockets cause me to feel naked. Though it is an inside pocket and no one can see I still feel exposed, My thinking changed and for that matter chained, one link looped through the next. I start with a hole in my pocket so I know I can’t stay in this dress all day. I know I will need the storage later as time wears on but I can’t change now and I don’t want to waste time putting on my tights. My legs are cold. I fly from room to room. I gather my keys, but forget my phone. I am bare legged and unreachable, overexposed due to a hole in my pocket. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-08-2014, 04:05 AM | #2237 |
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May 8
THE SHINY THING The starling stands with the candy wrapper in its beak; the cellophane flexes in the breeze. Here is my life. I have the shiny thing in my possession. What do I do? Do I give up my intended tasks to attempt dominance or control of the shiny thing? Do I release this thing of intrigue and beauty? I am drawn to the shimmer and sparkle but shudder at the price. The world is filled with shiny things. I can enjoy them but leave them where they lay. Play the tune but change the lyrics. * More Than a Fedora I have no explanations only expletives, I wish I had something to say that you wished to hear, but that is not current events; Foul humored broadcasts are what fill the air this day. Bad temper is tempting, but I can no longer be satisfied in this way nor is this a performance that you care to witness. I will play FCC to my ruminations curtailing this colorful darkness for my benefit and the clearing of the air. I have never shied from dramatic vocabulary and I do not now, but throwing out words is waste and I am learning to conserve. I don’t have to leak my power I can cover my head and close my mouth. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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05-09-2014, 04:47 AM | #2238 |
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May 9
ROLES “You don’t have to give up playing God because it was a bad thing to do," said my sponsor in her most gentle voice. “You have to give it up because it doesn’t work. In a world seemingly spinning out of control, you, brave child, stepped up to the plate and took a swing. That is heroic, not demonic, but impractical nevertheless. You have to be your own full-time job even when it feels like there are other jobs left unfilled. You don’t have to run around finding the feet that fit those empty shoes, either. Maybe those empty shoes are just bait for a bad trap. Keep on your journey and I think you will come to a place where the work is being accomplished by a surprising cast of characters. You will be free to stick to the role ahead of you.” Taste your thoughts carefully and spit out the rancid ones. * 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 God 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. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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Clicking on these dragon eggs will take you to my new erotic novella: Dragon Bait .........Hope you enjoy it! ________________________________________________ Please take a look at my work Click on flashing smilie to see my website To look at my Daddy/girl erotica book Click on pompom girl to see Elbows on the Table, Palms Flat |
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05-10-2014, 05:05 AM | #2239 |
Practically Lives Here
How Do You Identify?:
Daddy's good girl Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Jersey
Posts: 16,642
Thanks: 2,529
Thanked 12,320 Times in 5,198 Posts
Rep Power: 21474867 |
May 10
THE 24 HOUR GOD Matching a loving God to the horrors of my past has proved impossible for me. Projecting a connection to an all-powerful God of the ever-foreshortening future seems implausible. In today, I see a nurturing God. Not an all purpose God, not a God who serves all. In my life, there is a God I trust today. Each morning, when I wake, it is a pleasant surprise to find a God. Not an expansive God, not a God to fit the continuum, but a nice neat God who fits right in this 24. Lift your fingers to your scars and feel the gratitude. * 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. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
__________________
Clicking on these dragon eggs will take you to my new erotic novella: Dragon Bait .........Hope you enjoy it! ________________________________________________ Please take a look at my work Click on flashing smilie to see my website To look at my Daddy/girl erotica book Click on pompom girl to see Elbows on the Table, Palms Flat |
05-11-2014, 05:27 AM | #2240 |
Practically Lives Here
How Do You Identify?:
Daddy's good girl Join Date: Nov 2009
Location: Jersey
Posts: 16,642
Thanks: 2,529
Thanked 12,320 Times in 5,198 Posts
Rep Power: 21474867 |
May 11
ON-COMING Anticipation of the approaching traffic consumes. The tiny spec grows and develops into the arriving vehicle. 50 miles per and the rapid succession of the coming and those leaving eats quickly at my heart. The pain seers me. Why are these who travel from the direction of my destination passing me by? For miles and miles, they appear to be greeters. The breeze created by their passing chaps my face and I question my goals. How can so many abandon my objective? But flee it they do. My hunger does not diminish and I press on. Of course if we all went this way, we might tip the globe. Maybe that’s what they fear. Smile with your eyes, laugh with your hands, rest your heart, ease your mind. * 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. You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
__________________
Clicking on these dragon eggs will take you to my new erotic novella: Dragon Bait .........Hope you enjoy it! ________________________________________________ Please take a look at my work Click on flashing smilie to see my website To look at my Daddy/girl erotica book Click on pompom girl to see Elbows on the Table, Palms Flat |
Tags |
12 step recovery, acoa, al-anon, alcoholic, alcoholics anonmyous, coda, on-line meeting |
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