Friends of Bill W.

[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.

[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.

[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.

[LeftWriteFemme]

To my readers:

Beginning January, 1 I will be making a change in the format of my post/ blog. As you may or may not be aware. I have for several years been posting each day’s page from my book Sober on the Way to Sane. This year I will be posting a combination of the day’s page from my new book More Sober on the Way to Sane and underneath that the corresponding page from Lines from My Life a poetic reformulation of Sober on the Way to Sane.
As a way of introduction I am sending this post, which contains the dedication to each book set in the new posting format I will be using. I hope this is a change for the better as is my intention.

Happy New Year!

_


True Confessions and Ernest Pledges

The world changes everyday. I don’t know if you notice it, I don’t always, but how different the world has been writing this volume than it was writing Sober on the Way to Sane has shocked even me. This year I have been shaken in ways I had hitherto thought impossible, actually these things were so out of my realm of thought that I had not dismissed them; they were in fact unimaginable. I am still here and you are here with me and for that I am grateful and I thank you. The world is at once wonderful and terrible and staying sober through it all seems improbable even as I stand here clean and sober all these long years. I believe this book contains some of my finest work and I hope that you find it a help; possibly an encouragement. Hand in hand we travel this path. If the only place we meet is on the page we are still bound to one another, still the iron in the blood of the other. I extend my hand to you in oath that I will use the tools I have and open myself to new ones. I hope that you will offer your pledge to do the same and I will meet you here if you will and face to face if the Fates will have it, together we stay sober so that you and I never need be drunk or alone.

Very truly,

Sherrie T

~
Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother,
Winnie Jenkins,
Who had a vision of these poems.
She took my blocks of words and
Teased the poetry out of them!
Thank you, Mom,
I not only wouldn’t have done this without you
I couldn’t have done it without you
You are the best!

Love,
Sherrie

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 1

Lie


Yes, a lie is just a lie, but the truth also has problems. I relay the facts and the words take on a life of their own, leave out the backdoor and walk on down the road. They move to another town and never find time to come back for a visit even though, I am their mother. And woe to the woman who grows attached to credit or recognition for her ideas. These kidnapped prodigies are never ransomed but sold outright and their DNA not questioned or tested.
So, my advice is to love your words in secret and raise your notions behind high walls. If you are ever called upon to share your wisdom, lie. For even if you’re caught the risk is tolerable. Exposure is awkward but then again no one is looking, so, what is there to lose. A lie is just a lie but it stays home with you at night.




Tie a string to the moon



~

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
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 OK but cows overlooking the house aren't?
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 the 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.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 2

GOOD AS GOLD


Just because I’m as good as gold doesn’t mean that I win the prize. Doesn’t mean I get my way. Doesn’t mean I gain your heart. Being ‘extra special sweetness and light girl’ doesn’t secure my future. It does prevent me from living my life as someone I don’t like. It contents me to keep my own company. It is a huge improvement over living as the raging fury I once was. Any destination I desire is more readily assessable from this amiable posture; in spite of inexpert yearning. I can breathe past you if must be, walk down the road holding my own hand instead of holding a lung full of air. But I am the treasure. You must earn me never capture me. Appreciate me not devalue me. I’m good as gold. And please know that I am the prize.


Remember yourself as you would an old friend


~


THERE ARE ONLY 23 MORE SHOPPING DAYS LEFT TILL MY NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

Shoppers beware: I have a careful plan
I can juggle these thirty things and keep these twenty people happy
Dig around in the dirt at these three excavation sites
And hold onto my sanity for twenty-three more days.

My sponsor says "Having a plan like that
Means I'm already crazy."
My sponsor says "I don't have to please anyone
But myself, my Higher Power and her."

That can't be right.
What is the point of sobriety if I can't do it all?
She says "I don't even have to please her or myself."
What does that mean?

How can I tell if I'm pleasing my Higher Power?
She says "Shut up and you'll find out."
Great! What a plan, I like my countdown better
Of course I do, It's mine, my countdown, my life, mine, mine, mine.

Maybe my sponsor isn't all wrong.
OK, quiet....da, da, da, ...da, da, OK quiet for real
Hmmmm, I don't, don't know
This isn't working, I can't do this.

Why would I need to stop being me in order to get better?
"Who are you?" she asks, she thinks she's so smart.
I'M THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE.
She says "The eye of the storm is empty and I need to get a life of my own.

[LeftWriteFemme]

January 3

Maniacs on Pogo Sticks


I fear maniacs on pogo sticks peeping through my rural second story windows as the smoke of paranoia curls between my ears. Overestimating my interest to others causes me as much harm as the underestimation. Attributing super powers to onlookers is a parlor trick my ego plays to keep me occupied while my life passes by. I sacrifice all my possibilities for fear of what could be stolen through my keyhole. I cut off my face to spite my poor lonely nose. I must move forward in spite of my disquietude for the future lay ahead, yet I do console myself that it is harder to hit a moving target.



Use honey to get the peas to stick to your knife






~




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 the meeting, the bibby shirt, tights and no shirt
Was more of a high-wire act then 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 sobriety?"
"Yes, I do." I replied
"I think you would have fit in well with the circus."

"You and your two tone hair but you didn't hear it from me."
"You're mean."
"And what are you being?"
"Judgmental."

"That's my girl, what are we going to do about it?"
"Be grateful, grateful I got in quick enough"
"Grateful people let me work things out in these rooms."
"Grateful I still have something to learn from everyone. GRATEFUL."