Friend of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 22

THE PRIVILEGE OF SUN RISE


I wake, happily, at 5:30. I will again see the show beyond compare. In stark contrast to the mornings I filled with moping or sober angst, shades of the same dark color, I shuck my covers, bathing and dressing with purpose, and propel myself forward. I hate to miss the first act. Dawn, the tint of clouds dusky and sweet. I’m on my route; I start my open-eyed prayer. For all those living at the hands of an addict, Be with them. Please. For the addicts, help us all to fail fast.
I scan the horizon, checking all the views. I reflect on the striking change, earthbound green and gold, sky held pink, orange and blue. The silhouettes of trees exquisitely lit from behind, the sweet moon sharing the sunrise with me, add to the pleasure of my drive. I start my gratitude list. Beginning with my sobriety...each moment, the people, the life, the thinking, the feeling, and my ability to share it all with you.


Don’t become overly fond of nothingness for it may consume you.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 23

WAITING FOR THE RECOVERY OF OTHERS


I sit on my hands and wait for these bright pennies to earn the lessons of time. I dance my little dance and move on, dropping the pretense of patience. I search other forests, fields, and meetings and encounter many fine plums, though none the gems incubating at home. I make acceptance my goal and breathe through my days. I watch the bulbs ripen and bloom. I wonder at their beauty, inhale their sweetness. I have lost track of my personal progress. I behold, with charmed dismay, the open chasm before me. I must turn from the flowers and let the new lessons begin.


Don’t show your broken places to everyone, but do show them to someone.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 24

BIRTH OF AN APPLE


When an apple gives birth what is the result? Seed or sauce? Crunch or crisp? The act of creation is so much an act of sacrifice, how can it be limited to only one kind of delivery? The children of effort produce fruit of their own; who am I to call them other than my kin? How many times have I thrown over bluster for blizzard? But snow is snow. I can accept every squall if I keep clear and willing. I may finish my days in a winter orchard if I spend my life picking not choosing.


Keep two lists: what you want and what you have.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 25

ABUNDANCE OF WATER


Waterfalls fail the catch basin and run off to make mud slide from the hills. Power showers down, but the channels it uses are not always beneficial. High tide with the push of tsunami wipes out the coast. Water is the stuff of life, but God forbid it gets out of control, there is no living with it. I cannot regulate the weather but today I have a plan. I don’t have to stand out waiting to see how much will come down. I may not have every contingency covered; I do have a backup for the worse than average season. Yes, I did dig myself a French-drain, but I started by not living on the flood plain.


Travel in your own good company.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 26

FISH OF CHAOS


Out of chaos come very tiny fish, well, maybe not fish but a very swimmy feeling. How can I go around with my feet off the ground, my mind racing on a squirrel cage? Breathing helps, breathing is someplace to start. Once I get breathing regularly, I can gingerly probe with one foot for a place to stand. The chaos may race around and past my legs like so many eels on a summer’s evening, but with time and practice I can step from this current as well. Out of chaos come very tiny fish, but I can come out, too.


Wring out every drop from your books.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

Thank you everyone for your patience with these advanced posts. I am leaving the counrty and didn't want to fret over wheather I would be able to post from there. I hope all the friends of Bill have a great week!

Sherrie

[Dat_NYC-Guy]

Sherrie - happy belated birthday!!

David

Okay folks ...The secret is out...We are having a surprise party here at .. Send your birthday wishes to her at

LeftWriteFemme's Birthday
is tomorrow

Happy Birthday Sherrie, and.....thanks for the real service and stayng power...

Keep Coming Back has been your daily service here on this thread for almost two years..

Reading back, I see how this thread has been a harbor in the dark of night for many., and where we met and fell in love 6 months ago.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY
SHERRIE

You can send her a special wish at --->

http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/fo...78#post2611278

[thinkpink]

Hello ers and Friends of Bill W. -- just wanting to give a shout out to everyone. Happy Wednesday.

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 27

SLIPSTREAM



I look in the rearview mirror; I see the headliner and a river of road flowing out behind me. Dual viewing is the kind gift of hindsight. I can see my internal workings and the past laid bare. The beauty and sadness can transfix me. I will lose my way if I keep looking back. I catch glimpses and move my eyes forward. I can’t advance without a full vision so I remain grateful for the mirror. Awareness and cognition, the brakes and gas, I have the full package; I just have to make sure to steer.


Tell a joke to a cat.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 28

ARCHIMEDES PUT A BOULDER IN MY PATH



Place a lever under the boulder and press down, never so hard as to warp the lever. Move the pivot and push under in a new place. Keep doing this until you have pushed deeply and well from every aspect of the boulder in your path. This works every time, not because it dislodges the boulder but because it somehow changes me. The path may also appear different and often the boulder drops from view. It may not be gone but seems less intractable. My life goes on. I have found it important to retain my lever and pivot; there is never just one boulder.


Invent a new greeting.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 29

PIECES OF SKY



The sky falls in pieces and clutters around my feet. Scattered are the moon, stars and sun. Fear and desire have consumed all the rest. Great tides of resentment wash away reality and replace it with illusion and propaganda. What am I to do when want drives the course? Satisfaction is unknown; the luminous butterfly I believed extinct has not yet come to me. I leave the shards of life to tinkle as I stumble through them and forget to ask for wings of sweet contentment from unexplored realms. Paper dreams burn with fervor; I peer to see what stands behind. The gracious weather carries me as a seed to a vaulted canopy, celestial spaces, buoyant and fertile. I will grow away from the rarefied fragments of unrealistic vistas, sinking roots deep in cohesion and truth. Pieces of sky melt to rainbows; home is the nature of things.


Jingle your intellectual change.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

Sherrie - happy belated birthday!!

David

Thanks so much David! It's great to see you on the thread. I hope you are well.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 30

LEAVES IN A PILE


As a great pile of dry leaves, lay the problem. Running through it to show my disrespect accomplishes nothing but to scatter my dilemma and widen the area of distress. Covering and composting only allows the burden to indwell, leaching into that which feeds my soul. Burning puts it in the air I breathe. There is no galaxy far off enough to keep its reflection from my face. Attack, flight, banishment? No! Insulation, conversion, contortion? No! I pursue none of these; I can not control things exterior. I can not feed my power, light and life into the pile. I have only one goal: not to become the problem. Not to dry or dehydrate. Not to fall from my hope and collect in the road. My goal is to hold fast to hope and serve as conduit and companion to a life bigger than mine alone.


Practice little words like ‘oh’, and ‘hum’

Sherrie

[SirWalterHere]

Sherrie

just stopping by... and happy belated b-day...glad to you still posting and writing...

be well..

Walter

[LeftWriteFemme]

October 31

OPENHEARTED GRIEF


Tell a tale of openhearted grief and closed-minded terror. Bend the limits of misery. Pour over the damned feelings and tired excuses. Level the cupful of measured tyranny and wipe the drooling face of denial. The children will not dance tonight; the grass is wet with their tears. The dogs circle the encampment of desire and come to sleep when we are settled. Silly ruffled whimsy won’t carry the freight but the bus pulls into the drowsy station filled with tea-lites and pantomime. This story will close with a hand on the doorknob of hope, an eye on the jelly sandwich of contentment. Whisper the lullaby to the ones who stay to hear it. Morning cracks the shell to daytime. Shattered pieces litter the night; tremors shake my peace of mind. Sum up the analogies of broken hearts and twisted minds.


Draw from your toes, fingers and memory.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 1

SLOTH TOES


A sloth is known by the number of its toes not its name or love of art or music. I can’t prevent foolish labels. The oddest attributes draw attention and acclaim from the scorekeepers and flag-wavers of the world. Going my way in this life I am seen by clock-watchers as timeless and by trumpeters as soundless. I am not defined by these. The number of my toes or the time I keep, the sound I make, is more than who I am. An explanation of me will not fit on an index card, nameplate, or job title. As long as I stay clear of these traps and classifications I am safe. If I buy in or fall down my sum and total will neatly fit on a toe tag.


Stand in your own light.


Sherrie

[thinkpink]

At last I can post again...this site acts so wacky on me sometimes...

Went to an end of month anniversary celebration and picked up my 18 yr. chip last night. I really earned this one, what a year. Haven't wanted to drink, but I so relate to early sobriety in that I have just wanted to run back to an old relationship. I see newcomers struggling to not drink and I think "yep, I know the feeling". Why is it so hard to let go of old behaviour?

Anyway, just wanted to say hello.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 2

VICTORY


Victory is a funny thing. Bursting across the finish line ends the joyful competition and begins the wait until the next endeavor. Pushing for success drops my life off the radar screen. Power can propel me out of range, the center of my life overshot in and attempt to be a winner. I am stripped of my commonality in striving for singularity. Looking for acclaim leaves me lonely. The winner’s circle is very small, and while the flash explodes, the development shows I am now alone.


Curiosity and beauty are their own reasons.


Sherrie

[thinkpink]

Two great things I heard recently at meetings -

"Rejection is my protection" "the program provides me the pause between my intuition and my action"

The second one is paraphrased, but you get the gist.

[SirWalterHere]

thank you ...both good sayings to live by... I like the pause between intution and my action... that's been my moto in recent days...

Two great things I heard recently at meetings -

"Rejection is my protection" "the program provides me the pause between my intuition and my action"

The second one is paraphrased, but you get the gist.

[thinkpink]

thank you ...both good sayings to live by... I like the pause between intution and my action... that's been my moto in recent days...

Good luck with the "pause". That I think is one of the most challenging things I face in sobriety and as an adult.

Well, that along with many other life skills that I often find so challenging - LOL.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 3

SPONTANEOUS WILLINGNESS


At my local coffee-mart there is a strip of cellophane tape adhered to the mid of a Plexiglas panel built into the barrier where the line forms. Only at a certain angle can this satin finish tape be seen. When I first caught a glimpse of it I recognized others had stood there and responded to the sight of this strip by prying bits of the edge with fingernails; I was drawn to do the same. I could not pull much up, but each time I stand there I work diligently for the moments it takes to make it to the head of the line and be on my way. Unseen others pull fragments while I’m away. Over time we will accomplish this task, unbidden, unknown to each other except through this common goal, spontaneous willingness to do what can be done.


Build a boat in your mind and push off.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

At last I can post again...this site acts so wacky on me sometimes...

Went to an end of month anniversary celebration and picked up my 18 yr. chip last night. I really earned this one, what a year. Haven't wanted to drink, but I so relate to early sobriety in that I have just wanted to run back to an old relationship. I see newcomers struggling to not drink and I think "yep, I know the feeling". Why is it so hard to let go of old behaviour?

Anyway, just wanted to say hello.

Congratulations!!!!!!! That is so great!
As strange as it sounds at 18 years sober I reached a point where I was able to confront issues that seemed unassailable before. Now I am at that place again with new issues, it makes me feel queasy, but it got better last time I will have faith it will work that way again.

best of everything to you,

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 4

CONTROL


I have everything in the world but control and yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for. Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith and I have clung to scraps of control as an alternative. I have hope but I have hope in the way a disgruntled gambler has hope. The horse may cross the finish line first but it’s a long shot. This is the trouble with control. If I could ride the horse, I might be able to exert some sway in the situation, but since my jockeying would only make things worse, my inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair and here I am. I am not in the race. I will not risk betting on the horse. I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life and work hard not to be capricious myself. This maybe the crux of my problem; I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun. I try constantly to keep things from going badly; I focus no time on creating joy in my life. I may not believe much, but I do believe God wants me happy. This could be the seed, which starts faith.


Feel free to laugh.

Sherrie

[thinkpink]

Congratulations!!!!!!! That is so great!
As strange as it sounds at 18 years sober I reached a point where I was able to confront issues that seemed unassailable before. Now I am at that place again with new issues, it makes me feel queasy, but it got better last time I will have faith it will work that way again.

best of everything to you,

Sherrie

Thanks, Leftwrite,

Yes, there is always a new layer to work through, isn't there? That is life for all of us on this planet. Funny that things that are so universal can still be so challenging.

Have a good one!

[LeftWriteFemme]

Think Pink,

How right you are. I ended up visiting a local meeting in an attempt to ease my mental state, I was feeling unique and desperate. There I was the only woman in a meeting with 17 men. I was asked to speak and pick the topic and by the end of the meeting I felt average and survivable once more. The miracle of meetings never ceases to amaze me!

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 5

BEFORE THE END OF THE ROAD


Before the end of the road tiny stone lay on the side, freshly painted lines glimmer in this twilight trance. Walking the macadam, the crunch underfoot changes my perspective. No steering wheel or accelerator, this is ankle express all the way. Walking the road step by step, on my own, I am part of the soft and growing world progressing on a plan of separate integrity. Moist, lush wonder is missed by the motor speedway I let rule my life. Honeyed sweetness covers the vegetation swaying in the undulating airborne pulse. I am tempted to lie down and have a roll, but my role tonight is to reach the end of the road. When my goal is achieved I may choose a woodland life or an urban endeavor. Seeing the end of this path is job enough for now. Decisions anticipated prior to arrival are foolish diversions. I need to stay, not stray, with the dancers in the wind.


Execute the detractors in your mind.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 6

PICK ME SIX NUMBERS



Knowing all the page numbers and quotes out of the big book, but not being able to apply them, is like knowing all the winning lottery numbers with the inability to buy a ticket. Telling my story has little or nothing to do with public speaking. Recovery has so much more to do with willingness than studiousness. Popularity contests, policing meetings and service politics is a circus I have attended far too often. Empty rooms sporting great curtains do not a home make. Comprehension is no substitute for acquiescence.


Stock your mental stream so there is something to catch.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 7

DETAIL DAYS



Detail days seem like lost, soulless days. I sort the piles of endless junk mail, catch up on bills, letters, laundry. I don’t leave the house, but in some way I feel like I’m not in my home. It’s like a day of pulling out all the needles, splinters and thorns that accumulate under my skin from rough weeks and road rash. I steel myself to the pain of relief and rescue. Cleared counters, emptied baskets, finished worry lists leave me with that newly moved in feel. Piles overwhelm me, but sometimes, details define me.


Can-can in your head.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 8

SLAYING OLD DRAGONS


Your roar is Doppler-low and I can feel my steps move the earth as I go forward. Former dominator, scary from every angle, I come for you today. The scales are falling. I don’t rip them but they fall. I can breathe at the heights of your lair; I am not shrinking. The booming voice you had is gone, the power spilling away from you. I don’t fly from you. Gone is the tremble you once instilled. The curtain has parted and you are revealed not as the dragon, the serpent, the monster but as the peacock you have always been, preening and screeching as ever.


Put your foot down and dance with the other.


Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 9

CLINGING



Large bugs cling to the soffits, upside down, as an alternative to the rain soaked landscape. I salute their efforts to find security in a shrinking list of possible locations. Awkward situations place me, fingertips and toenails holding position, trying to avoid life’s harsher choices. Bitter, chilling options are cheerful alternatives to no options at all. I can take the difficult positions as an advantage. I have survived and this is the goal of the game. I am here come what may. I make the best of the worst times so God can help me make the best of the best times.


Turn with the tide.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 10

I DON’T SEE HOW



This is the smallest of the fragile excuses I use to keep from doing things to make me happy. Petty in a way I would never be with others, I rake my desires and tiny little hopes over the coals. Tired platitudes are plated up as first serves by my short order shortsightedness. Protecting crusted-over nonsense, I live the life of a lockout, not even a squatter on the fringes of my dreams. I stumble in my efforts to see hope, joy or my purpose, ignoring the fact that I must step from the box before I can see the horizon or more.


Rub your own head.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 11

QUILTER


What more comfort can exist in the world than a conglomeration of turned edges and love? Fancy stitches or not, the assembled world of cloth stands testament to devotion and diligence. Careful collections, meaningful to the collector and mysterious to the possessor, fulfill the primal urge to shelter and be safe. Time is testimony to endurance. Thread against thread, solidarity is strength embracing flexibility. The bed of life is made and remade daily with the affection of kind quilters’ needles of love.


Find a room for zeal.

Sherrie

[Dat_NYC-Guy]

Hi Sherrie - I don't come on as much as I used to - work has me so worn out these days. I celebrated 2 years on the 11th. It's gone by so fast - On the 10th I was remembering my last drunk - (as much as I could remember as I became a black-out drinker) Each day I am sober is a blessing. I've recently recovered from a small stroke and surgery - if I hadn't of quit drinking it could have been a major stroke and I probably would have died is what my neurologist said. So, I am even grateful for having that and the scar along my neck. It is a daily reminder that going to AA and remaining sober did indeed save my life. I am going to the Round-Up during Thanksgiving and am excited about it. Hugs.

David

Thanks so much David! It's great to see you on the thread. I hope you are well.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 12

EIGHT MISTAKES CLOSER


I am eight mistakes closer to perfection. As long as I fall forward, progress is being made. I fail meticulously toward my goal, more cannot be asked. Loss, pain, frustration are strong teachers and great motivators. I suck each splinter for knowledge, extracting juice from every fragment for information. In spite of sprains and strains, I have stretched, attaining almost my full height. Growth is a wonderful thing, though cost is always involved. Mistakes are an unavoidable price but well worth the expense. They are an expense that pays dividends, dividends that move me toward perfection.


Stretch your body, flex your mind.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

David,

I am so glad you survived the stroke and surgery, but am sorry you had to endure both.

Congratulations on your two years!!! It seems so long ago and yet at the same time just a blink ago. I'm so glad you are sober.

I had forgotten that the Round Up took place on Thanksgiving, I am going to try to make it, all things being equal.

Hugs to you too,

Sherrie

[academic_factory]

Dear Sobriety and Self,


If there was ever a day that I felt clear in my head, it would have to be today.

Because I am sober.
I reread poems of lost love, hate, sadness, depression. It’s like visiting an old friend, a sick old friend. I look at you from the outside and wonder how you escaped the strife you carried for so long, but it wasn’t so long really.

I thank you everyday for giving me the strength to see through the alcoholic haze. I thank you for wrapping yourself around me and holding me back from reaching for the fermented liquid that was destined for my lips. I thank you for getting me to the lowest possible point so that I can use it as a springboard for a new beginning. I thank you for giving me the opportunity to get out of that place – the place of uncontrollable outbursts of nonsensical language and beer breath, frostbitten feet, nauseous mornings, middle of the night phone calls to distant relatives or friends of the past. I thank you for letting me start over and not holding my addiction against me. I thank you for loving me unconditionally and letting me make mistakes, letting me relapse, letting me realize that I’m only human. I thank you for helping me to understand my own power in situations, my right to set boundaries for myself.

Living a sober life isn’t all that I thought it would be. For the first year it felt like a diet, a diet without booze. Now it feels like the beginnings of a lifestyle, something incorporated, ingrained in my life. Sobriety is no longer a choice, but a survival mechanism and a reminder of the days that I wasn’t sober. To be sober is an act. It is a response to an action – drinking. Drinking is active, so sobriety should be seen as active as well. It is the action of consciously choosing not to drink. It’s not like we forget that alcohol exists. If only that were the case. We don’t forget. We don’t even forget what it was like to drink, which is probably a good thing. We remember the good and the bad times and we constantly revisit them in order to move on. We mourn the “good times” and celebrate our sobriety by reminiscing about the bad. For some of us, relying on alcohol to live was as real as fish relying on water to breathe. It sounds silly, but it’s not. We could not “live” as we knew it without the drink. The drink was a means of celebrating, coping, unwinding, renewing, letting go, and holding on. We drank in order to take action, at least that’s what we thought. We can’t relax until we drink. We can’t cope until we drink. We can’t celebrate until we drink. We can’t let go until we drink. We can’t hold on or survive until we drink. The drink was what defined us, and that it did. We no longer owned our bodies because we didn’t allow ourselves to feel anymore. Repeat: We no longer owned our bodies because we didn’t allow ourselves to feel anymore. Life became more about escape than endurance or continued existence. And when life is on sabbatical, you aren’t truly living. You are delaying any growth that can take place and you are pulling the shade down over your face until the next day/night/weekend when you can take your first sip. In a free society, any addiction is a life-long affliction, but this doesn’t mean that it has to be detrimental or burdensome. It can mean freedom as well. Admitting an addiction is having the ability to see - to untie the blindfold of illness - and do something about it. I can’t think of anything more empowering than seeing yourself in a state of addiction and bringing yourself to speak that realization. Then life begins.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 13

FLORAL ECSTASY


I could eat fields of buttercups and drink down ponds of water lilies. Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers, too. I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe and underpin with nettles. I could rise with the roses, lay with the lilies, shade with the sage, sing with the trumpet vines and run away from home with a Turk's cap on my head and a pansy in my pocket, until the four o’clocks say it’s time to come home for evening primrose and then bed.


Increase your tool chest by one.

Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

Dear Academic_Factory,

Thank you for sharing your letter here. I truly appreciate it.

Best of luck to you,

Sherrie

[whisperingkarma41]

I went to the P-Town round up this year. I had such a good time, I met alot of new people and I spent alot of time in workshops and meetings hearing things I really needed to hear...things I'll hear for the rest of my life. I came home from the roundup feeling so free inside as I was able to accept and heal an issue from my past. I have been sober for 1 year and 8 months....my first year was no bed of roses...and....no pink cloud like alot of people told me their would be....but this was my path and I needed to stay on it, despite the pain and wreckage...I kept going, finding my faith....finding myself. I'm still on my path but now I see my life in front of me instead of behind me and i'm looking forward to living instead of just surviving. I'm grateful for life......my higher power, and the program.