Friends of Bill W.

[nanners]

Hi All,
I've strayed from this thread in an active time in a time of compulsive overeating, and have not really been back for awhile. I'm back and recommitted to my program.

I became abstinent again when I crossed the Minnesota border at 1:30 AM on Tuesday, August 13th. No more sugar, grains or dairy (except cream in my coffee, and no more diet soda for now. I feel good.

I was the speaker at my OA meeting for the first time ever today. I told my story of recovery, relapse and the beginning of my recovery again. It was well recieved and I got a ton of positive feedback.

Congratulations Sherrie, on your 26 years of sobriety, that is something to be proud of and grateful for.

Thank you for always being here, I know I can come back at anytime, and feel good by reading the words here.

[peachy]

Hi Al Anon was my home for many years. I rarely have a babysitter and I miss those meetings. 12th step meetings are few and far between in the UK unfortunately. My membership there was always a little skewy if that's the right word because my family was affected more by mental illness than by alcohol. There were alcohol and drug addictions too but the mental problems preceded the addictions and were at the crux of it all IMO.

I have a concern about Dissociative Identity Disorder and I wonder if there are any 12th steppers out there who either have DID themselves or have experience of loving someone who has. If so I would be really grateful if you would PM me and if you would share your experience strength and hope on this with me. Or if you know of any online resources.

I have questions about denial in DID, what it feels like, what awareness IS there about it, and what happened that led to a breakthrough.

Thank you.

Peace and Love in the programme xo

Hey peachy, welcome, sorry I can't help with anything related to the mental illness you speak of.

Where in the UK are you. I know there's Al-anon meetings all over the place. Not as many as AA and NA but nonetheless they are there.
Have you looked into online Al-anon meetings?

http://www.al-anonuk.org.uk/meetings/

[Mopsie]

Nanners - Thank you for posting this!

I have been exploring the idea of Overeaters Anonymous for a few weeks. I wasn't sure if it was okay to post in this thread or not, but I also didn't see a separate OA thread.

I'm not ready to go to a meeting yet - that scares me. I have done some reading online and ordered a couple books. I am more of an ease in slowly person vs a jump in the deep end person.

Thanks for sharing it's nice to know I'm not alone!

Originally Posted by nanners

Hi All,
I've strayed from this thread in an active time in a time of compulsive overeating, and have not really been back for awhile. I'm back and recommitted to my program.

I became abstinent again when I crossed the Minnesota border at 1:30 AM on Tuesday, August 13th. No more sugar, grains or dairy (except cream in my coffee, and no more diet soda for now. I feel good.

I was the speaker at my OA meeting for the first time ever today. I told my story of recovery, relapse and the beginning of my recovery again. It was well recieved and I got a ton of positive feedback.

Congratulations Sherrie, on your 26 years of sobriety, that is something to be proud of and grateful for.

Thank you for always being here, I know I can come back at anytime, and feel good by reading the words here.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 19


Endlessly Moving Maps

I try to survive by memorizing the chaos. I do well up to five layers deep and then lose it, as the details become too great. I am staking my life on my ability to track the patterns in a storm while at the same time treading water. I think this skill kept life and breathe in me for many years, but now I fear I’ll drown in this roiling mass. I must touch down my tender toes and learn to walk this twisting path and keep a pace with this spinning world. Everything moves and I am overwhelmed. I have forgotten my flesh and blood nature; have mistaken myself for a stone, one which dare not roll, one which has no part in this endlessly moving map.


Be honest with your toes

*

SATISFACTION

Satisfaction is like a marble in my pocket.
Formed when correctness was still red hot
And my sponsor rolled my mind until I was whole.

I sigh and square my shoulders
I know I am up to any task.
I am skilled with my tools and know well the talents
Of my intimates and helpmates.

I am not invincible but I am capable.
I value who and what I am today.
I sleep the sleep of a person
Not a hostage or captor, I am me.

I have a marble in my pocket
And it reminds me of the world.
I have a world within me
Knowing how to live with that
Is a great satisfaction.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 20


Dewy, Cheatum & Howe

I must radically sever the close connection I have with self-seeking, self-pity and dishonesty. What will I use to pay the retainer for the representation I will need to pursue this divorce? Willingness is the earnest money, which will start the ball rolling, hard work pitches in its share and faith pays the note each day I apply it. All this and more is what it takes to divide the endless stream of my compulsive thought into a survivable days worth of life. I have the prospect of being happy as a divorcee or I could be a miserable widow if I stay wed to my disease.


Try not to be the exception to everything

*

PROMISE BROKEN

If promise shatters without anyone touching it,
If it pops like a floating soap bubble that lost cohesion,
What do I do--name names--I can’t even take fingerprints.

Sometimes dreams just end--no fault or blame is attached.
The ice breaks under its own weight
And nothing can be done.

I am more than just holding on.
I am alive even if all the promises melt away.
I can accept the unexpected and unasked for.

I know this doesn’t affect my worth.
My value is intact regardless of disappointment or discontent.
I have learned that anticipation is mere amusement.
Promises are pleasantries
.
I am made of stronger stuff.
I am not broken by words, ideas or hope.
Promise can be broken
But it doesn’t break me.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 21


Hang on or Dance

Because I felt ‘outcomes’ slipping through my fingertips I dug in with my nails, I schemed, plotted, worried, whined. Lack of power was my problem I thought, but what it came down to was, failure to acknowledge… accept… failure to surrender to the reality of powerlessness. The only thing I learned from resistance was an intimate knowledge of futility. When I embraced truth… the facts…when I live with the gravity of masses not fight against it; I began to enjoy the weather, knowing I did not pull the clouds or push the storm. I’m back in the dance of people moving about me, all in keeping with the time, it is not mine to keep.


Befriend science

*

CHANNELING

It’s a full feeling to be a channel.
Only an empty feeling when it’s blocked
At the base of my spine
And God can’t go to my head.

The river flows through me and my banks will hold
Excuses dam me up
And leave a dry and lifeless basin
With tributaries taxed for uselessness.

Staying in the groove conveys my Higher Powers will
Without need of my furrowed brow.
A hose with no water running
Is a place for spiders to spin.

If I shut off the service I am a breeding ground
For creeping sadness and shocking misery
Compliance allow me the view
Of flowing strength and rushing joy
The greatest of which is living with intent.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 22


Up to Date

The future is a prison I escape by staying in today. The tiny windows which open to strange foreknowledge have barbs rather than bars and inflict painful wounds when I attempt too close examination. My business is here and now; the currency like manna, good only for the duration of the day and nothing further. Pretty dreams and colossal disaster float as baubles on the horizon but I need to take down my focus from such far off vistas; adjusting the optics for a clear view of where I am standing. Circumscription is what the destiny becomes when I try to live in it too soon. Novelty is what it is to be living in the very moment I am currently breathing in.



Find ways to embrace the random nature of life

*

ORIGAMI

I fold my reality like origami
Everyday a shape to suit my whim.

A dog when I feel like begging.
A horse when I want to trot away.
A pot to brew up some potion.

A penguin when I feel cold
And I stand on my egg all day.

I can bend and flex, change my image
But in the end I am truly flat and lifeless
A construct of imagination but soulless and boring.

Reality cannot be my creation,
Made in the accordion of my mind.

Truth and breath come like wind
And I need to let them change direction
And change me too.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[Mopsie]

I have been in Overeaters Anonymous since Monday. I am still learning about OA, the steps, etc. Today was a very hard day but I did not overeat. I felt very depressed ... that is my biggest trigger. I think maybe I finally found what I need to deal with my eating issues. I am very grateful to the co-founders of AA and the program they started.

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 23

Carrion


The trouble with not burying my dead issues is that in very short order they begin to smell and not, too long after that they start to attract vultures. Alternately when I am able to drain all the juice out of these botherations and they become freeze-dried decorations like Roy Rodger’s Trigger, I find that I can still climb aboard but they just don’t take me anywhere. I have found, just for me that I prefer visiting the grave of a past problem far better than having to live with its corpse, but then I am funny like that. I have never been one for hanging on to the crucifixion, of other’s or my own.


Don’t wait for the bell of courage to sound, go ring it yourself


*

THE CALL

Within the sound of your voice
I sing.
In the beat of your heart
I heal.

I feel in your touch
And dance when your toe starts to tap.
I see myself in your beauty
And warm inside your embrace.

Your thoughts are my inspiration.
Your lungs breathe me in and blow me out.
I soar in your flight
And dream in your waking.

I ring in your ears
Fall with your tears.
I’m lost in you
And found in you.

I travel and lounge in you
I share all your rantings and hide in your secrets
You hear and caress me, my darling
You know who I am.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 24


Just Say NO to Bushel Baskets

Spending my life under a bushel basket kept me from realizing who I am. I thought because of the close quarters I knew myself better than those free to explore the world, yet, alas, no. I am unaware of the world outside and inside the bin; this woven covering served to sever all true communications. Even in places where my candle burned through, it couldn’t allow sufficient light, in or out, for as much as an SOS or a night light. Here I am, not knowing my abilities… my possibilities…. or my worth and there is the world, standing a startled stranger from me, for I only know it as the circle around my feet and nothing more.


Manipulate your mind until it is supple and flexible

*

HARD TIMES

Sometimes I pack the earth down so hard
that weeds can’t even grow up through.
I try to make nature inert.
I try to kill my alcoholism.

I confine my disease to this tiny path of compacted dirt
and wear blinders as to ward off distractions.
I forget there is a garden to be grown
in the fertile ground of my recovering mind.

Losing the compulsion to drink is a gift.
Stopping my mind from thinking is soul murder.
I can sink my toes in the good brown soil
and look to the lilies and Queen Ann’s Lace for inspiration
.
I can stop giving myself such a hard time.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

August 25


Echidna’s Child

The difference between perplexed paranoia and procrastination is sometimes a subtle distinction. The confusion which swirls, confounding me along my trudge, gets the name of procrastinator. I am not at all sure I should continue to call it by that name. I believe that quite possibly I am an internal chimera, a blend of creatures, both mythic and fantastic, striving to live as one functioning specter, in a world too hard for a disparate visage as myself. When I am most myself, when the goal is pure and true, I work with a will. When I am making deadly compromise and risking my soul for social ease or the approval of the keepers, my dragon heart rebels and I am struggling against the fire in my stomach and fear screaming in my head. I don’t know how to eliminate the conflict, but for now I will attempt to stop calling myself names.


Beware of hopelessness it has a big imagination
*

WATERLINE

The interface of water and land is compelling.
Soothing but dramatic I’m drawn to this transition.
I stand and watch the lap, lap, lapping of the liquid to the land.

The gift of one place to another calls me.
Change and transition exhilarate my senses.
Whether it is rock or sand, river or sea,
I feel the pull to watch life in response.

Boundaries are beautiful.
Borders allow safety and recreation not just risk.
When I embrace this in life I embrace it in me.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 3


Where’s Your Chair?

Is the ring more unnatural for the tamer or the lion? One the trapped, the other the trapper. Who is the more in danger; the one with loss of freedom or the one with possible loss of life? And while this question is still in play the next question is begged. Why is there a ring? What is worth the price paid by the whip holder or the whipped? Spectacle is a thing whose cost reaches from the forest to the trees; can take you from the highest rung down to your knees. All this lost for some Owwe’s and Ah’s from people needing diversion from the ring they turn tricks in.


Refuse delivery of bad acts
*

HOW EVER YOU CAN

I heard --Let go with love.
You know how to do that? Asked my sponsor.
No that’s why I’m here to see you,
But it sure sounds like something I should do.

Well in a perfect world maybe we can all do it that way.
But for now let go with a mean look in your eye.
Let go with rage in your heart.
Let go with words boiling on you tongue.

Let go with the butter knife up to its hilt in the jelly jar.
Let go standing at the sink wishing for some other life.
Let go as a reflex
Let go as an anthem, as a prayer, as a declaration.

Let go even when you don’t feel you are holding on anymore.
At the same time-hold on to what’s important---
Your recovery---Your Higher Power, and your sense of humor.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 4


The Naked Not the Dead

Because comfort is sometimes no comfort I can shave my hair and walk bare in the naked world. Removing pretense helps in unexpected ways. Foolish action becomes formulaic when you are scared or hurt. I lived through the summers of blood; the winter is not enough to stem the tide or heal the wound. I have no want to raise the dead, but how to save the living? Poverty is the inheritance of so much misguided lethargy and I must shear off the illusion of maturity and let the children speak.


Bury pettiness in an unmarked grave

*
WHINING BRATS

Some days whining brats come at me from all directions
And my hair won’t curl,
Apathy chases me around the house.

I wonder how it has more energy than I do.
My mind twists into a wrinkled mess
I drag my good foot and hop on the bad one.

And even on those days I still rather be me.
I never long to be the innocent victim
Or spiritual leader, the tough guy or the Ph D.

No matter how bad it gets
Or what the struggle is
There is no place sweeter than in my head.

Many are the days I wished not to exist at all
But never to shuck my skin
for the skin of another.
.
Now that I manage breathe right
And to face each day with cheer
I know it was almost worth it
And might be worth it yet.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 5


No Reason

Reason falls through, where it lands is a place of unknown seascape and unrelenting tides. The roar in my ears furthers the disorienting effect of relocation. At first it seems easier to let go of reason but when I descend into madness I scramble for purchase; looking for sanity like a cleft in a cliff. Loss of skin and blood is nothing to compare to the loss of my mind. I believe I could be more easily separated from a limb or two than to lose rein on my brain. Reason falls through; I must follow even though the terrain is arduous and my heart is sometimes faint, for without reason there is no reason and without reason there is no life.



Write songs to the dead, sing them to the living

*
HATCHLING

When the shell gets too tight
It’s time to hatch.
I can’t tell you it’s safe out there
Just that it’s time to go.

The leaving is not easy.
Exodus fulfilled by the use of one small tooth
This experience may or may not prepare you
For the rest of your life.

So much still depends on predestination
And your attitude.
I mean are you a chicken or a hawk?
A peacock or a dove?
Or is there something of which I am unaware.

Did someone sit on your nest
Or cover it with sand?
Are you a turtle, lizard or snake?
See so much is out of your hands
But still your actions are your choice.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 6


Nightcrawlers and Nightingales

I wriggle blind eyed through the dirt; friction, my friend giving me something to push against, resistance aiding my travels. I worm my way through life and believed that was all there was; having never seen the sky. I traveled far and wide once I had taken to the air. Open eyed I push against a thing I cannot see and peer down on the dirt I left behind. I soar rather than struggle and go the distance leaving my mind open to the next frontier.


Say what everyone knows in a way that no one thought of

*

HUMILITY

A great woman walks my street everyday.
She carries a tall walking stick with a loop for her hand.
Each morning I see her low crown of hair and the half smile,
Her friendly wave when I catch her eye.

Each morning when I see her
I see the secret play across her face--humility.
This is the secret she cannot share.
I know she would sing it from the mountain tops if it would help.
But humility is not a secret you can tell.

It’s a secret you have to live with.
As I slowly learn this precious thing I see it shine in others.
Recognition of persons with inborn dignity
And a keen understanding of their personal value lights inside me.

When I see this fine woman walking with purpose
I appreciate myself better and am so very grateful
For those who keep humility alive by living it.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 7


Genius

I am often bonded to a self which thinks I know everything and when in doubt believes I should know even if I don’t. Freeing me of this requires the constant support of friends and neighbors’ assuring me that in a capricious world willingness is a more practical resource; it packs neatly and handles most jobs with aplomb. Staying consistently free from the bondage of self requires truckloads of willingness and the spirit of humility and sometimes even forgiveness. I am freer when I like myself, for the true bondage of self is the hatred of self.


Acknowledge the marks left by the street you came from

*

YES---THAT TOO

When kindness becomes weakness,
When mental agility becomes emotional instability,
It’s time to reassess everything.

I cannot leave things off my inventory
Because my Grandma, society or the preacher says
It’s a good thing to be.

Every blessing can be a curse.
All my characteristics have their dark side.
I have to list the entirety of my cargo
And keep a watchful eye.

I have to moderate my investment
In all my abilities or lose myself.
Warmth is nice but I don’t want Death Valley.

Integrity requires balance
Or depraved indifference will be the outcome.
Weak or strong, right or wrong.
It all goes on the scale.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 9


Barnum, Bailey & Me

When I wake to find a whip and a chair by the side of my bed I know I am in for a circus of a day and the tears of this clown will not change a thing. I ready myself for the tightrope walk and watch out for stray elephants. All the trained poodles in the world can’t make this into a day in the park. Painted ponies prance through their paces; I try to stick to my own act, meanwhile remembering that no matter how difficult these routines may be it still beats a seat in the stands.


Raffle off the surplus grit from your nitty gritty

*

MEGAPHONE

The point of surviving
Or maybe the goal after survival
Is enabling the voices of victims to be heard
Starting with my own.

I allow the surging waves of thought and feelings
To rush the gates and exit
I try to bleed the bad
With and without the use of leaches.

So much is stumbled upon rather than sought after,
Some things hound me, I run down the street
With memory at my heels
I must let the screams out or become them.

Today I talk, tomorrow is for others.
When I pour forth I open the way for the rest
I have become the megaphone
Rather than the cheerleader
It is good to be of use.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 12


Hypothetical

Is my inability to understand what creates mystery? If I were brighter, swifter, keener, would life be free of unknown communion? Would comprehension eliminate revelation? Would I lose perceptual apprehension by arming myself with knowledge of forethought? Could I end mysticism through education? Should I even if I could?



Sample other people’s assets

*
OPTICAL ILLUSIONS


Like my new frames? I ask my sponsor
Who wrote your prescription?
Oh the lenses aren’t new just the frames, I reply.

You want to be seen differently,
but you want to see things the same old way?
My question still stands---
Who wrote you the script for those funhouse glasses
you have used all your life?

Did it ever occur to you the distortion is ground into the glass?
Remember some people need you to see things for other than what they are.
Unhappy families look great if you can’t see them too clearly.

It’s hard to know what to say to keep the peace--said Grandma.
She never took off her specs to see there was no peace to keep.
So I ask you again --The view of the world you base your choices on
who chose the color you see it through?


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

September 8


Helping Hands?

Why would you go to a rattler for a snakebite remedy? It feels so much like the hair of the dog that bit me. The truth is I must, must stay away from the quick answers. I am a slow healer, but I do heal if I allow myself to do so unencumbered by poison or untruth. When I am returning to the vomit of my past it is incumbent upon me to search for the old lies and/or the new ones, either or both will get me drunk; do I even need the help of a prescription pad?


Never cage harbingers

*

SELF-SEEKING IS A DEBIT

Trying to get credit for everything I do
Has run me into debt in my anonymity account
Which draws directly from my humility bank.

I cannot expend my resources seeking acknowledgement
And expect to retain much dignity or class.
How can I build within, while constantly grasping,
For nods and smiles from scenery and landscaping?

I want approval so much that I have lost my center.
In an attempt to top the charts I forgot my song.
My ego writes checks that my soul can’t cover.

I run my potential into the red
Looking to get my name in black and white.
If I keep my name out of lights
I have a chance of building up my dignity.


You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault