Friend of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 27

SIZING GOD UP



God doesn’t need to be big. I only look for a big God when I feel very small. I turn to God as compensation for my feelings, as some sort of bolster to brace myself with. I have found when I am diminished in any way, God is tucked in a corner or pocket or drawer. I flee to the great out of doors and find earth, nature and wind but the God of my understanding is proportionate to my mental state. My partner is with me, near enough to hear the fear pour off my skin. God doesn’t run from me to adventures in the wild. I want to escape myself regularly but this is not my Higher Power's defect. I come back to God when I stop running from me. I face my reflection and recognize I am not towered over by a giant God; I am yoked with a power to share the load.


Enjoy the shape of things.


Yours in sobriety,

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 28

DON’T BITE


Desperation jumps up, runs around, then drops. If I don’t feed it, desperation burns out fast. I used to buy the advertising, the Horror, the Humanity. The acorn falling on my head convinced me easily. I grew this nut into terrifying despair never realizing if I had left it alone how quickly it would pass. When tragedy comes there is no time for a performance. The whirling splendor itself proves the farce. If I learn to recognize these triggers I might keep from shooting myself in the foot. If I let desperation wear itself out I can stay with the pack. Despondence splinters me and separates me from anything rational but quiet resolve lets me watch the wind twist while I keep my feet on the ground.


Pay your friends in consideration and truth.

Yours in sobriety,

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 29

RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED



“Relapse is not required,” said my sponsor, “though at some meetings they make it seem appealing, all that prodigal drunk treatment.”
“Well, so far, I’m living in the blessing of being convinced the first time,” I told her, “plus what could possibly be out there that’s better than what’s in here?”
“That is the point. There is so much out there that is faster and bigger, more dramatic and extreme, but I sure have never seen anything better,” she patted my head and I grinned.
“Since I am winning the first time why would I want to lose?” I add just to overstate her point.
“This is the perfect place for those who want it, and all the rest get drunk, but drinking is not required any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.”

Save pretty words in a jar like candy.

Yours in sobriety,

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 30

CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND


I fill the pallet of a new year's sobriety and, when it has been accomplished, make a manifest and strap this pallet with the others on the flatbed of my life. The cargo is secure and weighty; there is ample pressure where the rubber meets the road. I maneuver my rig carefully. I feel assured as I stream with the traffic on the byways. The power and magnitude of my transport prompts in me overconfidence. I fail to realize variation in weather or road conditions can jeopardize my journey. Eighteen wheels make for a poor cantilever when traction is lost and top-heavy wins out. In losing the battle of gravity, inertia and control I realize the past is not a weight I need to haul; all that is necessary is the inventory. I slip the pages into my pocket and walk the rest of the way. I am my only freight.


Medicate with laughter and tears.

Yours in sobriety,

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 31

FAILED SOUP AND DISTRUST OF BURGUNDY



What keeps me coming back to meetings and step work is an abiding mistrust of booze. Despite promises and advertisement, hopes and folklore, I couldn’t rely on drinking to take me where I wanted to go and I surely couldn’t depend on it to keep me there. The struggle is great; the attempt to cling to salvation through decanter is mighty but in the end this joining of my chemistry to other chemistry failed miserably. No matter how I held my mouth, held my head, held my liquor, satisfaction escaped without me and I was left here in the soup of my disillusion and disappointment. Failure to cooperate fully with alcohol lead me to try sobriety as an alternative. I may not always succeed in my recovery, but I can draw dividends on every deposit and use this to build a path to my desires.


Make a private heaven with plenty of windows and doors.

Yours in sobriety,

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 1

THE COWS ARE HIGHER THAN THE HOUSE


I got sober only to end up living in a house where the cows are higher than the house. I mean, next to my house there is a hill. The hill is surrounded by a fence. The cows are pastured inside the fence. Standing on the hill, the cows are taller than the house.

I didn’t expect to live in a house where the cows were higher. I expected normal. I didn’t expect the cows at all. I expected the house, but not this house, and not here, next to this hill. I expected to tell people, "Come to my house. It’s at the end of the lane. It’s the one with the rose colored shutters." My sponsor wants to know why rose colored shutters are okay but cows overlooking the house are not. I can’t answer her. It’s just wrong; that’s all! I don’t know why she can’t understand this. It seems perfectly clear to me.

My sponsor says I am powerless over cows and my life is not unmanageable but my thinking is. She tells me to paint purple cows. To write stories about worse places for the cows to be. I tell her the tub. She says write it down. She’s no fun.

I heard in a meeting I should pray for the people and things I am upset about. I pray for the cows. My sponsor says the cows see how I live my life and she is sure the cows pray for me.


Write a letter to the moon

Sherrie

[RyanCGY]

Just wanted to wish you all a happy, safe new year and say thanks for my sobriety

Rehab next week.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 2

SPRUCE



The gum that grows in trees and trickles down bark, that is harvested and chewed, spit out and sticks to shoes, is the very stuff that mimics my life. I race with vitality, burst my confines, am ruminated and masticated by various onlookers and then adhere myself to anyone I feel will carry me to a more advantageous venue. I needn’t apologize for my fluid nature or viscosity. I am just as I should be, always where and what I am, and at the same time, on my way to somewhere and something else.


Make a collage from junk mail


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

Ryan,

Good luck at rehab, and Happy New Year!!!

Sherrie

[RyanCGY]

I go to AA. My life has been destroyed by alcohol and drugs. My health has been destroyed. I cant even count the times my partners have told me to get help. The last couple of years, my partner kept saying to me "Im so scared you'll die" I thought I was invinsible....the sickness of the disease of addiction is explained in just that, because I was sitting there thinking drinking/drugs were never going to kill me, yet in the last year Ive flatlined a couple times due to using substances (Just alcohol, hypnotics, and some milder opiates) and mixing them. I know alot of people who have been extremely close to me over the years have gone to Alanon.

In AA, youre told 90 meetings in 90 days when you first start, or when you come back in. Ive been in and out of AA rooms since I was 17. I started drinking when I was 10 and I believe I crossed the threshold to addiction in my mid teens because I have almost NEVER been able to drink moderately. Ive always looked for 'one more high'.

I ended up in Vancouver Detox recently, which is a purely medical detox facility. I did a phenobarb taper and dealt with my withdrawls. They were horrid. I also found out Ive got brain damage. Its not severe, but is certainly there. My equalibrium likes to be 'off' at times, I get dizzy and feel like I cant stand up so I have to wait till I can regain control before I walk further or continue down the stairs, my stress threshold is considerably low....things that would normally place my stress level at 2...ten being the worst about of stress...place me at a 7 or 8, roughly, Ive got alot of short term memory problems, I have a hard time concentrating. Ive also got a nasty ulcer that Ive had for a couple years now thats come close to bleeding a few times. I found out that my next drink will kill me. No ands, ifs or buts about it. I will die. Because one more drink will not be one more drink. Ive gone beyond the point of drinking so much Im hydrated. Now when I drink, I overhydrate, which causes your red blood cells to balloon, and death is possible. (Its like your organs drowning in thier own blood apparently).

Not only that, but there are times drinking has given me debt in the thousands range. Ive lost jobs, friends, lovers, apartments....so much more. I dont want anyone to feel badly for me. These are lessons an alcoholic/addict sometimes has to learn before they get help. Unfortunatly, some people DO reach the point I reached, and dont stop. If I didnt stop when I did, I would have had a week or so to live. My doctor found it quite amazing that I hadnt had a heart attack. Ive gone beyond losing wieght, alcohol has caused a major wieght gain, as I was so sick all the time, I only had energy to make it to the beerstore and to the next doc I could find whod prescribe me more hypnotics so I could take my regular 6-10 zopiclone a night dose with alcohol, and if I was lucky, I could get a rpescription for more T-3s instead of having to buy the T-1s you can get over the counter at shoppers. That was my life. It wasnt even fun anymore. I was getting drunk/high and only becoming angry. I became an aweful, aweful person who did aweful things. Things that no one would ever dream I was capable of. Not even me. Just to get that drink/drug. Just to make myself feel better. Just to get through the day. And for some reason, over the last six months of my drinking/drug use, whenever I woke up sober, my world would just be a freeking disaster. I wouldnt keep balance, I couldnt remember anything from the night before and I couldnt remember what I did 10 minutes ago. I couldnt put two thoughts together. I could write, and that was the only way I could keep my thoughts connected, as I could get up and walk around untill my concentration came back. I was frustrated with these things that were happening when I was sober, and when I was drunk they would dissapear and although I was an angry, depressed drunk in the end.....it relieved my symptoms. Well, that was the brain damage, as it turns out. And if I used something today, I would feel normal. I could handle any stress. I could walk a straight line without fear of losing balance in public or on the stairs. I could concentrate. Id remember what I did 10 minutes ago. All this would be a temporary relief. However, upon sobering up, (If I even ever got sober again), my damage would be worse and it would greatly affect my adaptation and physical rehabilitation. I know this now. Its frustrating to know that when I feel things intensly, its only because my brain is magnifying it. Its frustrating to know I cant change that right now. All I can do is try to remember that I have a brain injury and chances are I would over react. In that, I can learn to keep a continued handle on it. If I stay sober/clean, and take the medications I need for both my bipolar type 2 (No real manias...small ones, but severe depression) and the meds Ive been given for my brain, and continue with rehab and therapy, then within a few years some of the symptoms should be relieved. These symptoms will reach thier peak at the 3-6 month point in sobriety. And then the worst of it will be over.

I have a desire to stop drinking/drugs. I have had it with the sickness, and Im done with the bottle. I cant do it anymore. I dont want to. I cant. Not today. I cant change yesterday and I cant predict tomorrow. But I have today and thats good enough. And Im sober.

I believe Alanon is a wonderful program. I know I used to get so scared of it when peopel I knew were going to alanon. I used to think "OMG they think Im a drunk! They hate me!" lol quite the contrary! they just couldnt take my disease anymore. And now I dont blame them. Tough love is a good thing.

I now have wonderful, loving people in my life. My gf is starting to see the real me, and loves the real me. My friends are so amazing and are there for me. Its wonderful to have that support. On Jan 6th, 07, Im going into residential rehab for a couple months, and right now Im going to meetings.

A person can not stop unless they are absolutely ready. And most people dont stop untill stopping is the only option. There was a time where I was told by doctors, and I had been warned many many times throughout my 20s, that I needed to stop because my health was seriously at risk. I was told that by my mid to late 20s Id have brain damage and was told that if I lived to 30 it would be stretching a miracle quite far. I didnt believe it, or I didnt care. I saw 7 doctors to get opinions on whether or not I was an alcoholic because I didnt want to believe it. None of these doctors were connected in any way, and they all told me the same thing. At the time I thought they were idiots. Now I see *I* was the idiot. I realize that they were all right. I was wrong. And thats not something I was able to admit very easily or readily untilll I sobered up.

So anyways, I just wanted to share my story with everyone.

have a good 24

[LeftWriteFemme]

Ryan,

Thank you for sharing your story. Welcome and keep coming back, it's great to have you here!

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 3

I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS GOING TO THE CIRCUS

I show up at a meeting. I didn’t know the circus was in town. I expected calm,
demure, sober behavior. My expectations were dashed, my bubble burst. There
were people streaming back and forth in front of the speaker; there were kids
playing among the chairs. Smokers worked the meeting in shifts, hustling out
the back door and smoldering back in. The side conversations rivaled the main
attraction. People dressed for the street not for the meeting. The 'bippy
shirt, tights, and no skirt' was more of a high wire act than I had ever seen
before. Shock cannot even begin to describe the state of my mind.
“But for the grace of God,” said my sponsor.
“No,” I said. “It’s a choice, they’re sober now.”
“Oh, yes,” she remarked.
“Weren’t you sober when you took on every man with time, looking for a fight
with each of them?”
“I was cutting my chops. They understood.”
“Some of them didn’t,” said she. “Weren’t you sober when you dyed your hair red, but only half?”
“I was afraid I’d dye my scalp, so I started lower.”
“Yes, but aren’t you the one who says sudden hair color change is a sign of
instability in your sobriety?”
“Yes, I do,” I replied.
“I think you would have fit well with the circus, you and your two-tone hair,
but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“You’re being mean.”
“And what are you being?”
“Judgmental.”
“That’s my girl! What are you going to do about it?”
“Be grateful. Grateful I got in quick enough, grateful people let me work
things out in the rooms, and grateful I still have something to learn from
everyone.”
“Kiss up.”
“That’s me.”

Hold a rock in your hand until you warm it


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 4

THE FLOCK



Today I came to a place in the road covered with birds. The nearby fields,
covered in birds, the trees covered. As I approached, the birds took wing. The
flock responded to my presence; each bird flew, the sky darkened with their
flight. Wave upon wave, boundaries intact, taking action in the face of
obstacle. The gift of instinct displayed for me as I fly to my meeting, my
instinct rehab. I am learning my intuition; my sponsor spoons it to me from the
steps. I suck it down never knowing what it is about this process that makes me
better, anymore then I know how grain and bugs make birds fly. I have theories,
things I roll in my fingers when I’m nervous. I get glimmers, things my Higher
Power sparkles in my eyes for a treat. In truth, I don’t know ‘how’ I don’t
need to know, anymore than birds need to know lift to weight ratios.
When I respond to life events, when I spend less time self-concerned, I am so
much closer to self.
“Aren’t we spiritually centered?” quips my sponsor.
“Yes,” I reply. “One day in a row, I’m going for the record.”
“That’s all the birds have; you’re doing as well as they,” she smiles and pats
my back.


Say hello the next time a bee seeks you out


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 5


THE BAG


I saw a bag at the top of a tall tree. Full of air, the wind pushing it. It rocked back and forth, held by the stub of a branch. It is so beautiful, so lucky, so blessed.
My sponsor frowns. “Beautiful, yes,” she says. “Lucky and blessed? Convince me.”
“The bag is lucky; it could be on my doorknob, holding garbage. Blessed? It’s free, not a care in the world, supported aloft by the strength of the tree.
“Inside your house, it’s warm. Holding garbage is useful. Lucky to be out in the cold, no purpose, no one needing your help? Blessed? Caught on a tree, trapped, sharp twigs everywhere ready to shred you, beaten by the wind?”
“You're playing devil's advocate.”
“ I do it well. What are you playing? You want to be free. What is free? You want to know for sure you’re on the right path. You think the bag knows?”
“If I were the bag, I might be mad. I might condemn the forces filling me so full I can only feel the force itself. I might be exhilarated, overtaken, free from responsibility. I might feel isolated, unstable 40 feet in the air. I might feel punished, abandoned, dismissed. I could feel a thousand different things.”
“And on the days the wind doesn’t blow?”
“Oh.”

Imitate all the animal calls you know


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 6

MARIAN




Even if the whole world was created in a cipher and whirls off into nothingness, this is still not a commentary on the existence of God. We have today. For this moment of sobriety there is a power greater than my despair, my apprehension and it builds with me a home from the bricks of my optimism. Partnership is no prevention of inhospitable endings but is a temporary relief from desperate loneliness. The tired struggle of guaranteeing niceness spills my energy, scraping from each 24 the marrow so necessary. My open palm saves me from grasping, my open mind from grappling; I rid myself of tiny gods in tiny heavens where I do not reside. Let the blades of grass probe between my toes; there is beauty for me to see, love to hold, hope to float. Where this train originated and whatever its destination, it’s in my station now and I am grateful to be on board.


Leave your outgrown shell for the sea to take

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 7

HELP FROM STRANGE SOURCES


I can not get my mind wrapped around the places I find help. I struggle with believing I have been helped; I struggle with disbelief at my own resistance. I am helped daily by many tiny things seen and unseen. I realize now, I was injured by the same tiny things when I was misaligned with my Higher Power.
The sun rising, the tiny star I circle in this great nothingness, it makes my whole day. The air hanging around just in case I need it, which I often do. The people who live with me (a mean feat), work with me, those who exist here with me, keep my ship on course. How very sweet of them to do mostly right every day of their lives. What a help that is. The whole ecosystem and all the weather: what would I do without it? But this is on a good day.
On a bad day, the sun is in my eyes, scorching my skin. The air is too still or well, the wind is always a problem. And People, people are an endless plight. People do things to hurt, annoy and irritate me. Full intent, targeted to me, my life, my wants destroyed. Bugs seek me and I am followed by the darkest cloud, every day, all day lurking.
I am so thankful for a sponsor and a tenth step.


Name your tears; honor them for who they are

Sherrie

[Tommi]

January 4

THE FLOCK
Today I came to a place in the road covered with birds. The nearby fields,
covered in birds, the trees covered. As I approached, the birds took wing. The
flock responded to my presence; each bird flew, the sky darkened with their
flight. Wave upon wave, boundaries intact, taking action in the face of
obstacle. The gift of instinct displayed for me as I fly to my meeting, my
instinct rehab. I am learning my intuition; my sponsor spoons it to me from the
steps. I suck it down never knowing what it is about this process that makes me
better, anymore then I know how grain and bugs make birds fly. I have theories,
things I roll in my fingers when I’m nervous. I get glimmers, things my Higher
Power sparkles in my eyes for a treat. In truth, I don’t know ‘how’ I don’t
need to know, anymore than birds need to know lift to weight ratios.
When I respond to life events, when I spend less time self-concerned, I am so
much closer to self.
“Aren’t we spiritually centered?” quips my sponsor.
“Yes,” I reply. “One day in a row, I’m going for the record.”
“That’s all the birds have; you’re doing as well as they,” she smiles and pats
my back.


Say hello the next time a bee seeks you out


Sherrie

Thanks Sherrie..I so enjoy your posts every day...I celebrated my bio-birthday on Jan. 4th. Today is my clean and sober birthday. Every now and then, I look inside the cover of my original little black book, "Twenty-Four Hours a Day" .
On a yellowed, tattered page my Sponsor wrote two simple sentences, which have been my here in my darkest hours, along with the wisdom in this tiny journal, that seems to speak to the day's events along with your posts which are so insightful.

"Jan. 7, 1977,
To: Tommi

Read this little book every day and things just start happening.
God loves you and so do we.
Stay Close.

Liz H"

"Jan. 7-A.A.Thought for the Day....."When temptation comes, as it does sometimes to all of us, I will say to myself: No, my whole life depends on not taking that drink and nothing in the world can make me do it......."

It is truly one day at a time, older and wiser, yet still vulnerable, and I kept coming back, for ....30 years now. Just one day at a time adds up.. I need to party now, mocha java please

Wishing the best to all.

Tommi

[LeftWriteFemme]

Dear Tommi,

Happy, very happy Birthday and Anniversry!!!! How wonderful to have those words from your sponsor. Condratulations on another year of life and thank you for staying sober another year!

I am so glad you like my work, it's so nice to see you in here, it's been rather lonely lately.

What did you do to celebrate your days??

I visited a meeting in Brooklyn, NY last night it was fun. It was like a Jack-In-The-Box meeting there was an alarm on the door and everytime someone would show up a member of the meeting would have to pop up and climb up the flight of stairs to let them in. I realized how spoiled we are where I live, we just leave the door unlocked.

I hope you are having a great Today!

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 8

OLD GOLDFISH



I got them when my sobriety was new. They were tiny little guys, ten-cent feeders. I wanted my stepson to sleep soundly in our strange jumble of a home, fresh from purchase. The tank sat on a dresser under his elevated bed, space to fit my hand to feed them, no space for baby boy to climb in. I loved my goldfish. There is never a no with gold fish; feed them as often as you want; let the water get cold. Put them in a big space, a small space, plants, no plants. No was so hard. I hate and fear no. I am hard, fish are easy.
Tears and mesmerizing aquarium. Meetings and steps. I could not keep myself alive. I don’t know how I kept the fish fed. The program kept me going, kept hope flowing, and the fish swam. In this century, when we finally are outliving wild goldfish, we are sober together by the grace of our Higher Power. It’s been a wonderful time. I am grateful to be here with the goldfish. I am grateful the goldfish are here for me, expecting so little. Maybe I could return the favor.
“I’m grateful you appreciate the fish,” says my sponsor.


Find a bell to ring

Sherrie

[Morningstar]

mawnin everyone.......

i never posted in here before....and need to vent here a bit.. about my sister.
she smokes almost 3 packs a ciggies a day and drinks...... she wieghs 72lbs ..
she has been in the hospital 3 times in the past 2 yrs for phnemonia.. 2 of them I had to admit her ....
her husband...... drinks too...... he is a binge drinker. on weekends mostly.....
then he cries about how his wife ( my sister ) ... about how he can't watch her all the time.... why doesn't she eat...... he doesn't know what to do about it...... he has to work...... blah blah......
my sister... is driving my whole family crazy...... and her son.. whom is 17 .. he wil be 18 in May.. he is in a militarty program at high school ( ROTC) and has all these honors.. he doesn't drink or smoke or is into drugs...... he wants to join the military when he is out of high school... and stands a very good chance at going right to being an officer and not doing boot camp. His parents are proud of him......... but my sister..... is killing herself.
we try to talk sense into her..... how she will not make it to see her son. graduate with such honors...... my sister. is a closet drinker..... hides the bottles..... her son has found them and throws them out.... full or not...... she has no idea how she hurts him.
this last time she was in the hospital was over christmas.......
i went to her house christmas eve .. to show her a gift for our brother... she was sitting there...... on the sofa. next to her husband.... head hanging.. then would drop her head back..... eyes rolling bk ..... swaying bk and forth.. slow.... i took her coffee cup that was sitting in front of her and smelled it... it was str8 vodca... she is usaly on oxygen.. and use's inhalers.... she did not have her oxygen line on..... her face has been looking pale whie for days.. christmas eve it looked worse.... her lips had no color.... her hair..... well ...... i kept watching her...... her husband and i were talking . and i kept saying.
Rick... we need to put in a hospital........ look at her.
he would say he can't afford it...... and he knows..... and wants to help her.and doesn't want to lose his job cause of her..and then tried telling my sister........ u need to go to the hospital.. do you want to go??? but of course my sister..... didn't answer....
he then suggested he wanted to put her oxygen on and put her to bed and let her sleep it off.
I said.......no .. i think she needs to go ... ok here is the choices........ 1 .. i have my mom's van.. u can wrap that blanket around her.. and we can take her to the hospital now...... or i will call an ambulance... take your pick
soo after some debating.. with him.. cause he had been drinking too..... he suddenly snaps and says i don't care anymore.call them i give up.
OKkkkk soooooo i got up went into another room and called them.
then when the sirens were heard....... he got sooOOOO PISSED at me.....
guess he didn't think i would do it.......
when the paramedics took my sisters vitals..... they said her oxygen level was 55%.. and if I didn't call...... and she would of had brain damage or been dead by morning.
and the whole time her huisband is in another room... and comes out and scolds me. how could i do this and how i wasn;'t welcome in there home anymore.
I ignored him.
well after a week in the hospital.... and getting better and bk to most of her old self.
they let her go home..... and she is back to her old habits.... and i am in friggin tears about it. * very deep sigh here**.... my heart is so heavy for the fear of losing my sister..... she is my only sis. and i love her to death ..
i am trying to come to terms now.... and face the fact.. that she wil die soon..... her doctors already told her..... her liver will explode... its bulging now.. and when she coughs . you can hear the fluid in her lungs.
and with all this.......... she still does NOT see how she has a problem.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 9

IN A BACKWATER



There is a place so removed, uninspired, ignorance flourishes. I hate to go there. I avoid it when I can. Today I could not avoid it. Today I saw the gable end of a small barn, half hidden in the scrub trees. On the face of the gable end are two plywood cutouts, large, taking up the major portion of the space. The first cutout is a budgie, a bright blue parakeet, 7 or 8 feet tall. Tilted to its side, it looks dyslexic, but intriguing. Above it is a cutout of a black guitar, similar length, hanging long ways across the top, almost from eave to eave. I don’t know what it means, why they are there, who could have put them there.
A story’s tongue is sticking out at me; I can hardly bear it. I think of God, and laugh. If my God has nothing better to do than tease me, I need a better God. I think of my Higher Power and wonder if the power is curious, too. Am I overlapping a layer of consciousness I have no part in? Is this a subliminal preview of my future? Or am I far too nosy for my own good? My sponsor says the latter. I just don’t know. It could be something all together different. I have only time. Time will tell in the end; it always does. I hate to wait.


Compare and contrast eggplant and green beans.

Sherrie

[mrMsf2005]

well, i visited chicago/ home, for the first time since ive been actively in recovery/ sober. it was kind of surreal, but i have some gr8 toools to use in sooomany situations that come up EVERY DAY! so i did the best i could; and glad to report i am STILL maintaining continuous sobriety! sharing a bathroom with 4people and being around my family constantly was sort of sweeet; i went to meeetings, talked to fellow AAs; drank lots of herbal tea; ate alot of sweeets; read DAILY REFLECTIONS over cofffee next to my ma at the table, she read her mail; referred to LIVING SOBER boook(i brought w/me); called my sponser to check in; called a few SF/AAsupport long distance; a friend of mine who i know from SF now lives in CHGO/ she DOESNT DRINK OR DRUG, but i thought she just didnt, til she asked to go to a meeeting with me, and realized she thought she could give up without thinking she had the disease, but she says its hard and she knows she cant do it alone; wow, huh? we just never know....she's been off alcohol and drgs/ pot, since april2006 but has decided to start meeetings and work the steps; she got some localsupport from the womyn at the meeeting we attended, wowWOW. im happy for her. and glad to find some chicago meeetings i can go to when i visit....heard a gr8 speaker, and great thoughts.
soooo grateful,
this must be what the grace of GOD feeels like mrM

[RyanCGY]

I met my dad for the first time in 25 years yesterday. Hes been sober for 7 years. He still smokes weed. He says it isnt a problem for him.

He asked me last night when we were driving around if I minded if he smoked some. I didnt want to be a party pooper to him and its his truck so of course I said "no problem". I wish I would have said it was a problem. I didnt use but the smell just about made me barf, and I used to smoke daily.

Hes supportve of my need to not take anything. I know nothing is safe for me. I guess I am worried that his weed will lead to something else for him. I know I need to concern myself with my own recovery. I dont want to push him out of my life. I know he would respect it if I said "No Im not comfortable with you smoking it around me" I just dont knwo why I had no backbone last night. Im coming up on a month clean/sober pretty soon and I havent done that in years, Even the last time I sobered up I was still abusing hypnotics....so I guess I wasnt really clean/sober.

Now that Im so serious about quitting.....its wierd how heavily I have to take it. I didnt expect this feeling Im having. Its not a craving...its a digust with substances, but its like my body wants it sometimes but I dont want to use and I tell myself In 5 minutes this will pass" and it always does. Id feel like shit if I used and I would die because my health still has complications due to drinking/drugs.

What is this in me? Why does my mind tell me I can have just one when my mind knows damn well I cant?

This seriously is the only disease that will tell you that you dont have it, when you do.
F*cked up.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 10

BREAKING MY OWN GLASS



The police of a small town caught a serial glass breaker today. The man who owned a plate glass repair shop was breaking store front windows. I break my own. I go through my life; I slash my own tires and break my own glass. I fear continuity, stability, success. I love damage control, making arts and crafts from my slivers and shards.
“Think what you could do with undamaged goods,” says my sponsor.
I don’t know how to do anything with undamaged goods, except damage them or give them to others.
“Saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” she counters.
“Stick around,” I tease.
I can make a quilt from discarded clothes, mosaics from shattered dishes, collage from junk mail. I can hold your hand and cheer you on. See the potential in every person in a crowded hall. Rescue every stray on the block.
“What have you done for you lately?” my sponsor taunts.
She is making my point. What can I do for me? Search and destroy? Live outside myself? I have to be sober to be me. I can’t go around making messes so I have something familiar to wallow in. What if I can’t do anything fresh?
“Learn to market the retreads,” she says.


Watch an old thing in a new way.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 11

LONELINESS EATS MY LUNCH


There are days loneliness eats my lunch and I can’t fight back. How can I stand it? How can it still be this bad? I pull out the old chestnuts: If I’m not happy with what I have, how could I be happier with more? And, Even tickets on the fifty yard line don’t interest me; I came to play! I roll them around. I think of the other slogans, the tidbits, the smiles and hugs. Still, there are days my lunch is gulped down and I sit with my plate empty. Pickle juice, coleslaw drool is small comfort. Actually, it’s a jeer. I stare at my empty plate. I turn it and twist it. I stick out my tongue at it.
“You're good company,” says my sponsor.
Then why am I alone? If I’m so good, if my company is worthwhile, why do I sit here hungry and desperate?
“Are you sure you are?”
It sure feels that way.
“Well it might be true.”
And it might not. I get it. I am unhooked from myself; I’m ignoring the multitude at my elbow, looking for someone in my lap. I’m holding out for old terms from a new contract. I am loved by people who aren’t trying to consume me and I am letting my expectations dine for free.


Imagine who the wind visited before you and who it is on its way to visit now

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 12

LIFE IS TOO GOOD




I know it sounds crazy. Is crazy. But I hate having the fear, the gnawing gut of “what if I can’t maintain this”? The sober life I live, what if I get struck unable to connect to my Higher Power? I had a spiritual awakening; what if I get spiritual narcolepsy? My spiritual cord was cut when I was young, not by my choosing. What if it’s cut again?
“What if this line of thinking cuts it?” asks my sponsor
I hate when she’s right. What if this is the test? Be like them or not. Follow the path of the twelve steps when there is no weight of need pushing me. I have to keep my eye on the ball for myself when everything is going in my direction. I’m still not God. This is the lesson the abusers never learned. The one I have to.
“This has been a prelude to a decision,” says she.
What decision?
“What went wrong was not bad people making bad choices in bad circumstances. It was disconnected people making decisions without help.”
I have to stay in your pocket. Never be a free bird. I have to remember what true freedom is. It’s not being cut loose. I had that and it never felt free.
“Keep your eye on the ball; hold onto my hand.”


Read a children’s book to yourself

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 13

CATCH



How can my sensibility catch my intellect? Or find a map with enough information to get my heart to the current location of my mind? What are the common markers recognized by soul and brain? I know the pulse of my wrist is counter-pointing the firing of my synapses. My life signs run their course and I struggle to find the intersections. I long for more than signposts and curbing. I would like parallels, paradigms and conclusions. There must be a place of common home and hearth. I am looking for the depot of my life. I hope I hit it before I hit the coast.


Warm your heart with your thoughts.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 14

GRAVITY WORKS ALL THE TIME




Limits and boundaries are a drag. I hate feeling tied to the ground. I know I could fly if not for unseen forces. I sense myself lightening, smoothing, I drop my burdens; I pick up speed. Fourth dimension! Hell! I’m proverbial vapor trails. At this time I should explain. When I get moving this fast, I inevitably wind myself into a position where my head is up my in my nether regions, a place it does not belong.
I have slowly grown to love my limits; no restraint holds me back. In reality, I am supported, rooted as it were. I am not a hydroponic. I can live in the real world. I am me. Encouraged by the wind and the rain, I am not the hot house flower. I am truly free. I can walk where I was born to walk. I forget life has not been found outside my little world, and when it is, I’m still better off being me.


Introduce yourself to a new vegetable.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 15

NO MAPS



Maps have existed longer than I have. By the time of my birth, aerial photography had made pinpoint accuracy the norm. I can be tracked by satellite on my daily commute. I can get a Trip Tik and travel to the far reaches of this continent.
"So what’s your problem?” asks my sponsor.
There is no map for where we’ve been going. There are the twelve steps but after that, it is all uncharted territory, except, of course for my family’s warnings about dragons.
“Those critters stay to home mostly. You have bigger things to worry about.”
So, where’s the map? I need to know where to go.
“No map. We go through this together. The pitfalls are similar: sex and money. There are a few others. What each of us finds on this journey is unchartable, plus if you spend your time looking down, you will miss the view. We prop each other up as we step off into the unknown, and reel each other back if we start falling off the beam.”
How do I know if I’m doing it right?
“Are you still sober?”
Yes, but I’m unsure. Lots of people are sober right up until the time they’re drunk.
“So true. It’s all about motive, and it’s difficult to chart your heart. Do you have willingness?”
Yes, you know I do.
“I have found that is the vehicle to everywhere, Honey. Learn to enjoy the ride.”


Write silly verse.

Sherrie

[Kyssme]

January 15

NO MAPS



Maps have existed longer than I have. By the time of my birth, aerial photography had made pinpoint accuracy the norm. I can be tracked by satellite on my daily commute. I can get a Trip Tik and travel to the far reaches of this continent.
"So what’s your problem?” asks my sponsor.
There is no map for where we’ve been going. There are the twelve steps but after that, it is all uncharted territory, except, of course for my family’s warnings about dragons.
“Those critters stay to home mostly. You have bigger things to worry about.”
So, where’s the map? I need to know where to go.
“No map. We go through this together. The pitfalls are similar: sex and money. There are a few others. What each of us finds on this journey is unchartable, plus if you spend your time looking down, you will miss the view. We prop each other up as we step off into the unknown, and reel each other back if we start falling off the beam.”
How do I know if I’m doing it right?
“Are you still sober?”
Yes, but I’m unsure. Lots of people are sober right up until the time they’re drunk.
“So true. It’s all about motive, and it’s difficult to chart your heart. Do you have willingness?”
Yes, you know I do.
“I have found that is the vehicle to everywhere, Honey. Learn to enjoy the ride.”


Write silly verse.

Sherrie

love this more than i can say!!! thank you, Sherrie!!

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 16

FEEDING SQUIRRELS ON A ONE LANE BRIDGE





Cattle corn spread on the single Lane Bridge---the trap. Food or safety? There are plenty of other choices; my disease sees none of them. Gluttony and danger the perfect combination. How can I resist? Why would I resist? I have to have more. I cannot depend on my nature, the ability God gave me to survive in my environs. Help must come from outside, and must be wild and dramatic. Inward help is boring, subtle, tiresome. Where’s my image? My excitement?
How am I going to prove my God worthy without too much, without perilous risk and rescue? I can’t. I can’t prove my God, and my God doesn’t need to prove anything to me. I can find my way, off the beaten path, away from the prying eyes of rubberneckers. No cheers from the crowd are necessary. I have the equipment. It came standard. If I look at the controls and follow the twelve step tutorial, I should be able to manage just fine. No Mack truck in my face, as I stuff myself with ill-gotten grain.


Look deeply into a glass of water searching for mermaids.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 17

IN THE COMFORT OF MY ROOM



I sit and panic concerning the future. I have come through hell, built a safe and satisfying life, but it will all end soon. I can feel it. The tide rises in my soul, the blood red tide of self-doubt and degradation. I fail to see my strength, or intelligence. Hell, I can’t even remember the sheer willingness, which has carried me this far. All I see are shreds, tattered little bits of my hopes and dreams, scattered by the breeze of fate.
What is the point of me being in this sweet space if I’m going to intellectually turn it to a dungeon? Why set out fluffy pillows only to frighten myself daily with thoughts of their removal? How can I pray for safety and practice personal terrorism? With an open mind? No! My mind is closed to the double side of life. I know the destruction but forget the glory. I have washed ashore in the land of love and support. I need not drag my mind and spirit to the nether world of hopelessness. I’ve been to the dark places. My task is to warm in the sunlit today.


Make an anagram of your name, which empowers you.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

Kyssme,

Thank you so much!!! I am so glad you like it. I hope you are doing well. Have a great day.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 18

THERE IS A TREE




There is a tree in the woods. I’ve seen it. It is cut off from any visible source of strength or sustenance. Carried aloft by the surrounding trees, the splintered trunk dangles in the air. It makes no connection to the forest floor. I know the feeling. I have been cut off too. Violently separated from my God, as it were. I probe the fractured stump at the bottom of my soul. I explore the crevices seeking tendrils of hope. My anxiety bonds to my frustration, but faith eludes me. I look down to the broken place, the view unrealized by me. I have a vista of unimagined beauty provided to me by the growth of others. I am eye to eye with my peers, held in their loving embrace. I bloom and flower with them. I endure the winters the same as they, and come spring am the stronger for it. I don’t know why I was damaged. I don’t know why I was saved. I am grateful it is done.
My sponsor says it’s for our sobriety and the pleasure of your company.


Think of three honorable people.


Sherrie

[DallasLesbian]

Stopping in to say hello....hoping that everyone is doing well.

[resqx]

January 18

THERE IS A TREE




There is a tree in the woods. I’ve seen it. It is cut off from any visible source of strength or sustenance. Carried aloft by the surrounding trees, the splintered trunk dangles in the air. It makes no connection to the forest floor. I know the feeling. I have been cut off too. Violently separated from my God, as it were. I probe the fractured stump at the bottom of my soul. I explore the crevices seeking tendrils of hope. My anxiety bonds to my frustration, but faith eludes me. I look down to the broken place, the view unrealized by me. I have a vista of unimagined beauty provided to me by the growth of others. I am eye to eye with my peers, held in their loving embrace. I bloom and flower with them. I endure the winters the same as they, and come spring am the stronger for it. I don’t know why I was damaged. I don’t know why I was saved. I am grateful it is done.
My sponsor says it’s for our sobriety and the pleasure of your company.


Think of three honorable people.


Sherrie

thanks sherrie

just catching up

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 19

ROCK BOTTOM PRICES



Marble topped dressers, dry sinks and wardrobes, standing in the auctioneer’s warehouse, show loving use and obvious value. The hungry consumers peruse the merchandise looking for the perfect piece to fit their need. Old men eating ice cream sandwiches pick their way through the rows of tidbits laid out on the lawn, bargains to fill in odd spaces and little desires. So like our meeting places, where people try to refurnish their lives. The cost to arrive may have been high, but once in the market is more than fair. We reclaim relics and we use them as road signs and warnings. There is always someone around to carry large truths home and no one has to go away empty handed. We bid on our own survival by buying someone else a break. Time passes easily, as the one at the podium recounts the rock bottom prices.


Curl up inside the nautilus of your mind and take a nap.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

So good to see you resqx and DL, hope you are both doing exceedingly well!!!

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 20

BECAUSE



Because I am my father’s child, I make my attendance at meetings frequent and regular. Having looked deeply in the genetic mirror, I see so many bitter days. I’ve run from the implications and sheltered in the steps. The humility that saved my life is the understanding I am no different from my family. And, since this is a progressive disease we all have, I will just get there faster. Knowing who I can be helps me turn my will over and keeps me grasping my Higher Power’s belt loop. All I am turns in every direction and can pull or push, lift or fall. I know my assets and I know their power and their limitations. All my hope is placed on a plan to use these resources. I follow the only lead which has never promised more than it can deliver.


Be your own loving parent.


Sherrie

[pilgrimpoet]

January 19

ROCK BOTTOM PRICES



Marble topped dressers, dry sinks and wardrobes, standing in the auctioneer’s warehouse, show loving use and obvious value. The hungry consumers peruse the merchandise looking for the perfect piece to fit their need. Old men eating ice cream sandwiches pick their way through the rows of tidbits laid out on the lawn, bargains to fill in odd spaces and little desires. So like our meeting places, where people try to refurnish their lives. The cost to arrive may have been high, but once in the market is more than fair. We reclaim relics and we use them as road signs and warnings. There is always someone around to carry large truths home and no one has to go away empty handed. We bid on our own survival by buying someone else a break. Time passes easily, as the one at the podium recounts the rock bottom prices.


Curl up inside the nautilus of your mind and take a nap.

Sherrie

Ah, this is what it's all about, isn't it?
Hugs and thanks,
Cathy