December 2
There are only 23 more shopping days left till my nervous
break down
Shoppers beware: I have a careful plan! I can juggle these thirty things, keep these
twenty people happy, dig around in the dirt at these three excavation sites and
hold on to 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 is not all wrong. OK, quiet......da,da,da.....da,da. OK, quiet for real. Hmmm.
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.
Endurance lets you
live in the house you built.
*
Anti-Forfeit Activity
I don’t want to write
bad, forced, poor, weak, care-worn poems,
but I won’t write any good ones if I don’t lift this pen.
The embarrassment I might feel for lackluster lines
is far less than the shame of empty notebooks.
I don’t always like what flows when I open the gates,
but I am sure glad the current is live and so am I.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane
and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault
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