Friends of Bill W.

[Tommi]

Hoping Saturday is a day of good music and dancing purepisces (even if it's all by yourself, no one is watching ) .

Wishing you well, and it is good to have the light on.

and sherrie, thank you for today's one liner ~ inspiration. "Enjoy the approach as well as the work". I will apply it today as I dust

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 20

COOCOO’S NEST


I ran away to join the zoo hoping a life contained would calm me. The segregation hit me first; isolated exclusively with those of my stripe drove my thirst for diverse scents and opinion. Next, the monotony of the landscape bore into my brain. The well-meaning effort of the keepers bears the mark of folks who go home at night. The blandness of the food and music lent nothing to the experience, and antiseptic could drive anyone wild. The final blow, the one that struck constantly and coldly, was the stream of observers waiting to be entertained.

Embrace plain tools and fine minds.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 21

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE


I don’t always know how to get the dog off the baby. The attacks are often sudden and always swift. My shock at the reality delays my response, falters my steps and fogs my mind. What should I do to disengage this assault? What can I do that won’t make things worse? How can I resolve this now? The pain is almost unimaginable but yet all too familiar. It all comes down to ownership. I must admit this baby is me. I have to face facts; this dog is my pet, I have fed, nurtured and groomed him and now I have to put this dog to sleep.

Explore the air not just the dirt.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 22

CHANGE IN MENU



If God is drunk we pray for spiritual sobriety and strong sponsorship. If God is sober we ask for these things on God’s behalf and glory in answered prayer. It is amazing that the rain comes down if I dance for it or not. I can get this wonderful recovery just like the rest of ‘we agnostics’, I don’t have to shake your hand, wink my eye or say some special bit of poetry to have it. Just the same way that weather is and changes and deepens so too is my spiritual condition. It is there as I tread this path. I don’t have to mark the rows in my garden for the plants to grow. I wish for God a salad with two forks, we no longer need to share a bottle.

Dance with your skeletons.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 23

TRUE VOICE


Some tears pour from my eyes and others from my heart. What once was a head-game and theory is now heartfelt and real. I have grown in my compassion, leaving qualification on the curb. Letters and notice mean so little in the full-out scheme of all the world; like fashion, what is true today, stood on and dependable, is next years joke and off-hand reference. The thump of the muscle deep within me is a compass I can trust. The daily tide of splash and rush can spring water to my face, but what rouses my spirit is much more. I needn’t worry for its receding or discount that it is faithful; it abides with me still and will keep me if I let it. Some sounds ring from my voice; others resonate from within, these are the ones that last.

Aim is as important as a strong arm.

[LeftWriteFemme]

December 24

RETRO ANTICIPATION AND SUNSHINE


The night after a victory I fret about the blocks. Will my stance be right? Will I leave cleanly? I have been first through the tape. I have won the race but yet I worry how I will start. Had I anticipated a win I might have handled the accolades better. Apprehension has a long half-life and feeds through the night on my gizzards and my dreams. Failure gives homework, there are rewrites and typos, but checkmate leaves an empty board and hands to shake. The long ride home is filled with recriminating thoughts of luck and fortune. By the time I arrive home the win is devalued and no longer mine. I must pry misgivings from the winner’s circle and enjoy. These moments in the sun are just as real as any others.


Draw pictures of monsters, then let them lay.

[Tommi]

I am writing my Christmas letter and posting it here, because it seems a likely meeting place.

Happy Holidays it says on all the windows, and read in all the cards...I enjoy this season for so many reasons, and am sober and sane enough to live and love, and recall many miracles. Jan. 7, I celebrate many sober years, but for now, the Christmas magic is at hand, and I recall the wonder of my miraculous childhood.

When I was a little dyke/tyke only child of the alcoholic parents, I got everything I wanted...except a sober holiday..I escaped into Plasticville USA, the twinking bubble lights on a huge tree, and the sound of the midnight train I steered around the living room.......

My memory bank floods with the wonder of Christmas Eve, when my Uncle Donny morphed into Santa Claus ( he never fooled this precocious kid).We would travel from one house to the next watching the younger cousins, the aunts and uncles open their presents, in a caravan progression that ended at our house. Grownups toasting the seasonal favorite toddy.

All the family gathered for a midnight dinner prepared by my Gramma, and then the magic of Christmas took me away. To the little town my Mom and I had created unter the big tree that dad had planted firmly on the 4 X 8 plywood platform in the corner of our living room

Everyone gathered around our Christmas tree. I engineered the Lionel trains dodging through snow covered tunnels, corning around the Plasticville town. Letting the cousins blow the horn and raise and lower the lights of the Main Street USA village, I was in charge..

The family would all leave, the treelights would be tuned off, and then the parental fireworks would begin. I retreated to my room, and wondered if she would be alive Christmas morning.

I vowed to never pick up a drink, but, I did..and it took no time at all to raise the Rum and Coke toast at Christmas Eve with my Mom, aka Big Butch(who came out when I was 17) and our "chosen family". We moved 3, 000 miles from home, no twinkiling lights, no train and no raging alcoholic father. We drank together, we double dated, we went to Hollywood and did things I don't post about.

Then the miracle happened right after a drunken Christmas and New Year's eve. My Mom went into rehab. I visited her, attended Al Anon, and knew, I needed to be in the other rooms too. We finally were able to enjoy every day, and night, a chance to love and live a rewarding and sober life before she passed away.

Tonite, I open presents, toast with Diet Coke, and celebrate the miracles of the season, and being sober for over 30 years.

Against all odds, miracles do happen.

Have a very Merry Christmas and a sober new year,

Tommi