Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 13


Wrong as wrong as wrong can be

To be wrong in my family and in my past meant to be tortured and I prefer death to torture, so being wrong meant death or longing for death. I tried never to be wrong as a way to stave of the desire to leap from tall buildings; I did not turn into superman, wonder woman or mighty mouse through my efforts. I did turn into someone else; I became a cartoon of a real person, two dimensional and overflowing with irrational color. Now I see how wrong, wrong can be. Wrong is not an allowable excuse to be tormented. It can be the turning point for knowledge if I choose or the stairway to something deep dark and ugly; my choice, always my choice.


Quilt your stories and sleep under their protection

*

ASSURANCES OF GULLIVER

Poor Lilliputians and my egg shaped conundrum.
At least they have the strength of their convictions
When I have only pondering to share the space between my ears.

What sense could the world make if there is no right way
And each person is free to open the egg from either end
Or leave the thing intact, having instead maybe a bagel.

I have been looking for the combination to unlock the universe
When possibly it’s an egg shaped thing with no doors or locks
And all that’s left is to break in or out.


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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 14


Clean Underwear

The ease of the trip is often determined by the quality of the packing. When I am entirely ready travel is easier. I wash the laundry early to give myself a head start. Lay everything out and walk through each day’s needs; roll up my outfits and tuck each into my bag. I try to take less than half of my ‘what if’ worry items and cut short my ‘disaster plan’ thinking. If I pack positive thoughts and clean panties I am fine and if I forget them I can always pick some up along the way.


Retreat is not the same as change

*
THE STORYTELLER

Funny stories I long to share with new friends
Have to be put aside while the core of this entity is built.
Mutual memory is the siding on a house framed in integrity.

Treading together through the past
We strengthen each others perception
Which is the only support
That can be offered without time travel.

We take hands, link arms and wander
Happily towards the future
Having the keys to history jangling in our fists
We can return whenever prudent or necessary.

We forge a fresh path and hope for a pleasant journey
Between us we figure to have slain all the dragons.

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