Friends of Bill W.

[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.
*


Bride in a Bentley


Who determines your worth,
the one who sets your ransom
or the one who pays it?

Will you recognize yourself
once you have been bought and paid for?
Will your life exist upon your return?

How many times has the road and its inhabitance
taken me far from what I’ve known
and extorted an exorbitant remuneration for restoration?

Redeemed is what they call it when the price is met,
yet this might not be the feeling it evokes.
Deliverance is never 100%
and reclamation is not always possible.

So keep your mind free,
but know your own worth.


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

[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.
*

MISS DIRECTED

I called and rambled at my sponsor.
After a significant time had passed,
she stopped me and asked with a tone in her voice,
“and why are you calling me?”
Startled, I replied, “for your advice!”

“Are you sure that’s why you called?
Because I can give you my advice,
but I have given advice to you before
and received only a severe case of the ‘Yeah, Buts’ in return.”

I was about to say ‘yeah, but you don’t understand’
when she cleared her throat to quiet me
and continued what she was saying.

“Seems to me you really want more than a sober ear,
you want magic.
You want me to take your crazy, dramatic thinking,
put it in a hat and pull it out formed, as all your dreams,
and then you want credit for making it happen.

But, Kitten, I have news for you,
I’m not Mr. Roark and this is not Fantasy Island.
This is sobriety and you can’t just have your way.”

This is when I realized I was on a dry drunk.
I don’t know what the first signs are,
but I do know when your sponsor asks,
“and you’re calling me, why?” the jig is up.


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

[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.

*

Natural Law


The boat captain can’t change the river;
navigate it possibly,
but rule it never.

Birds don’t control the wind,
only capitalize on it.
I can’t reign my sobriety,
I just get to take the ride.

My choices greatly affect the quality of this journey
but not the nature of recovery itself.
I am powerless over gravity
but am thrilled at my ability to use it to my advantage.



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

[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.
*


Let the Groundhog Sing It


Mistakes and poor choices save me
from attempting to climb out onto moral high ground.
Moral ambiguity keeps me protected
from the illusion of relentless righteousness.

Lopsided living is a fate I am spared
due to my flawed execution of perfection;
all in a day’s work for a functional human.
Left by the wayside is the fantasy that I am all right.


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

[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.

*

Uggs



This is a big hurdle until it becomes a little step.
I will struggle with it as long as it takes
for me to see it as something I can conquer
a bit at a time, then, often as if by magic,
it will melt into curbside snow
and I can slosh through it in my boots.

I am vanquishing obstacles,
which seemed insurmountable mere months ago.
I am not so much stronger than I was,
but I have stopped feeding the weakness in my mind
and this has made all the difference.



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

[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.

*
Thief in the Night


The moon ran off the night you left.
Instead of west it headed south with you,
but I doubt it will stay.

You are learning to play a new part,
another ill-suited role
which I don’t believe you will carry off
with much aplomb,
Bad actors have no leg to stand on for critique

You may have found yourself
a kinder critic or a more likened mind.
What you have taken I can’t expect to return,
but what I have gained I will never give up.

I don’t think you ever intended me any harm,
but protection is something you never provided;
something which I was sorely in need of.

I was fortunate to return to the house of my father
for that is the shelter in which I can breathe.


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

[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.
*


Come What May



Inevitable things are very much like inedible things;
you can’t quite swallow them yet they are hard to throw up.
It can’t seem to get here quick enough to comfort my fear
nor will it pass with any speed once it has arrived.

I am like a boa with a hedgehog as my lunch,
the shredding is rightfully dreaded and in no way preventable.
Not everything that wings my way is anxiety driven,
but I have to admit that some things are.

I cannot spend my days wishing the storm clouds away
so I will put on my slicker and hunker down for the drenching.



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

[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.
*


Picture Window


When God sticks His face in my window it brightens my day.
What that shining face looks like in other windows I do not know,
but I try to memorize the eyes, the brow, the winning smile
before my time is up and the wind shifts.

The flash of a friendly face lights up the house,
my yard, the corners of my soul.
I imbibe the rich glow before it moves on,
letting my core charge with incandescence, warming my mettle.

I am long and longing for this happy countenance
and only when the blocks tumble in my mind
do I realize that it is two- way glass in that window
and stick my face in it and offer it to God.




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

[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.
*

Olive Juice


For whatever the reason olives are often pitted
and once they are pit-less
there seems to rise an irresistible urge to fill that wound,
whether with pimento or children’s chubby little fingers
as they fish them from the can.

There is an opening, an answer must be found.
When I find my center gone
I have that same yearning, fill that hole!
It is an imperative,
a need that must be met no matter how poorly.

I will stuff just about anything in that gap;
the list is longer than the Bell directory
and yet none of it is an adequate replacement
for what has gone amiss.

So here I stand rife with questions.
What to put in there, what to keep out.
Is cream cheese preferred to cobwebs?
Prosciutto better than ice?

Nothing is better than some things
and the right thing is better than having given up.


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

[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.
*




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.


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

[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.
*


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.



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

[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.
*

When I’m Gone



When I’m gone ……
I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best
But more likely will be the lament;
she didn’t live up to her potential.

When I’m gone ……
I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted voices
But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs.

When I’m gone ……
I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms
But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable notes,
then the circular file.

When I’m gone ……
I would like my dreams to fly
to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge
But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long corridor
and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night.

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

[girlin2une]

Originally Posted by 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.
*

When I’m Gone



When I’m gone ……
I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best
But more likely will be the lament;
she didn’t live up to her potential.

When I’m gone ……
I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted voices
But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs.

When I’m gone ……
I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms
But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable notes,
then the circular file.

When I’m gone ……
I would like my dreams to fly
to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge
But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long corridor
and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night.

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

I love this

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 14

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath. Soaking is supposed to calm me. I’m waiting. I assure you my impatience is no help to this process. These yellow, tub-bound misfits grinning at me don’t fill me with the joy of living, either. I have blown bubbles until I’m blue. I smell like a French elevator from the bath oils. My hair is stiff with conditioner; my face packed with mud. “Do the right thing," said my sponsor. She is such a pain. Here I am bubble bath to my armpits, and not a hint of peace. Her question rings, “What do you want?” But isn’t it obvious? If I knew that, what would I be doing wrinkling in this swilling vat? I wouldn’t. I would be out doing my ‘thing’, whatever that ‘thing’ is. How I’m going to figure myself out I don’t know. And ‘she’ is no help, (you know who ‘she’ is, she the sponsor lady)
So what do I want?
World peace. A clue. Maybe just a hint.
But I know part of it. I know more than I admit.
I want sobriety and happiness, dignity and respect, enough time to do these things, and love.
“Well," says she, “those things are easy. Work the steps, then the traditions; practice them, do service, and take the advice you give to your own sponsees.”
I stick out my tongue in her general direction.


Creep toward the unknown.

*


Surfs Up

The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me.
I had no way to anticipate it.
As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm
and that the sea won’t escape the shore.

Over time I begin to anticipate the movement
and then rely on it.
I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water
lapping the lip of sand;

What it brings and what it takes away.
I am human, I adapt, I survive.
How do I make the jump to blessing the moon?
How do I touch the divine?

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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 15

DESERVING


Tender toes crushed by moving memories, fresh pain from ancient injuries, shock incurred from these lifeless reminiscences. Unhappy reconstructions slap unsuspecting faces. The people, who stood by to let the chips fall where they may, try to feign 'innocent bystander' now that shit is falling from the sky. Unexposed skin will burn when the flames leap high. Idiotic excuses will not retard the fire of injustice coming to call. Too late tears carry no freight with the past recipients of the it all runs down hill award. Cowards make themselves cripples and fracture at the force of incoming reality, and deserve more than they get.


Once well is a full feeling.

*
Induction

I have a massive energy transformer that lives inside me.
It is explosive in nature and risky to toy with.
But if used properly I can power my whole world
with the current which flows through it
to me from my Higher Power.

If I use it improperly
I can melt down my core and burn down my life.
The connections are of the utmost importance,
insulation is a priority as well.

I know that I am conduit and so much more.
I must do my part as the carrier and the arbiter of change.



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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 16

DOWN THE UPSIDE



On the downside of a rising star there is too much fear. Anticipation is recommended for ascent, delight should be encouraged, but all out alarm is usually sounded whether it is needed or not. Panic dims the shining pleasure of mounting the sky. Refuting celestial status, denying astral projection, I renounce myself. Attaining height, my position in space is apparent to bystanders and onlookers. I need to ride the comet and accept fate, my nemesis. Fortune shines on me, I should not squint away kismet.


Expand your spiritual muscle.
*

Who is the Parent?


There are more liars in my head than anywhere else
and they will say the most errant nonsense,
making it sound totally convincing.

First of all they use other people’s inventories
to leverage me into believing
that I am just what is needed
to lift each person’s universe from despair;

Then they insist that my life will be incomplete
until I have saved nations and secured borders,
all the while failing to mention
the deadly nature of these attempts.

None of this is a problem unless I listen.
Liars’ lying causes me no trouble
until I accept and act on this bunk.

This is where a thorough inventory saves the day.
When I am clear about the truth of who and what I am
I can’t be easily led astray.

I know I am God’s child and the resemblance can be strong,
but today that burden is not mine to carry,
so I can stay busy being me.


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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 17

TIMELY

Spend a minute to rub the sleep gently from your eyes.
Spend an hour smoothing lotion from one end to the other.
Spend a day in tribute to the gifts you give and gifts given you.
Spend a week researching your goals, dreams and hopes.
Spend a month routing energy to a viable flow.
Spend a year studying truth.
Spend a life living it.
Your life is worth all the time you have.
Take it.


Balance doubt and dreams.
*

Human Sacrifice


How much does it have to cost me
in order for you to feel better?
Why is it that my suffering improves your mood?

Does it confirm for you that you are not alone
when you are feeling scared?
Or does it give you the sense
that at least you’re not as pitiful as me?

Is it pleading that strikes a chord,
is it the animal pain which stirs your compassion?
What about this scenario completes the cycle for you
to be able to move back to your comfort zone?

What happens if I don’t fall to pieces?
If I hold my emotions to my chest,
take them to my sponsor,
in some way keep them from your hungry eyes?

Will you move on and leave me behind?
Will you climb over the hurdle
which currently stands between us?
Or will you store away this bitter thing
like a rotten nut hidden by a Secret Squirrel?

Youtube Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9bR...ature=youtu.be

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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 18

MAIL FRAUD

The open envelope betrays the tampering I suspect. Too bad my critics are snooping, not my supporters. When they are finished tearing open my mail, they tear me apart as well. Shredded, I feel unable to handle further correspondence. I shut down communications. There is no channel for benefactors to travel. My champions are at a loss to defend me from my opponents; the struggle flounders. Misunderstanding the meaning of messages, I have been mocked and enslaved. I would love to vanquish my foes, but you see I am opening my own mail.


Ask often all the questions.
*

The Story as a Stowaway

I want to tell you a story,
but I want to tell it to you quickly,
so I can give it to you and then you can carry it
on your way, for what good is my story to you
if you must leave it where it lay?

Your need to be elsewhere presses on us both
and I wish to give you what you can take rather than
to try to stall you here for an epic you might never lift
and certainly not dream of dragging along.

I want you to be on your way
and take a part of me with you.
I wish to sew myself in your mind;
tether my tale to your soul.

I believe in forward motion and the need to carry on.
Where you’re going I can’t go on my own
but I know that if I am funny, quick and lite,
part of me goes even to the end of your world
and my hope is to help you make it bright.


Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLoOa_Mx-CQ


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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 19

DRIVEWAY TIME


Layer after layer of blue stack the sky, the moon risen and the sun dipping away. I wait for the twin lights, the constellation of headlights---my ride to the meeting. It will be the entry vehicle to a world of population, leaving behind the galaxy of me, the single star. I stand silent and the feeling of fellowship carries the miles. Laughter flies the winds of memory and all the old jokes of truth and tribute are fresh and abide with me until the car arrives and we make it all new again.


Ride a horse to a pony show.
*


Blanda


I know how good a quarterback you are
on Monday, safely at home.
What were you like on the field, game day?

You act as if seeing your mistakes in retrospect
is the same as not having made them,
but the game is lost and a rematch is not a do-over.

The score is final, whether you accept the stats or not.
Defeat does not deter my love of the game
and doesn’t diminish my affection for you,

But history has been made
and I don’t wish to repeat it.


Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OBA...ature=youtu.be


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

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 20

NUZZLE’S OFFERING


Like a vegan kitten who wrestles long tailed leaves and twigs, subduing them and dragging these prizes to the feet of human parents, I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters as tribute to my Higher Power. These bloodless battles are pure practice; future wars may not be as clean. I can not enlist my God to fight these skirmishes; I would never believe in one that I could. I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader, but champion, no. Foliage and foes are mine to fight. The spoils, I bring back for pats on the head and bragging.


Talk to things other than people.
*


Triumph


God and I are experience junkies;
part of why I am here is so God can take me for a ride,
but also for the treat of God tucking into the sidecar
and letting me take us out for a spin.

I am God’s audience and God is mine;
though we are not peers we are comrades.
Life is a serious business I am sure and
profit and loss are always there to be considered.

I can barely describe to you
how much being in love with my creator is a joy,
but even better is being the apple of my creator’s eye.



Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7X9...ature=youtu.be



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