Relapse is Not Required

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.

*

Step 3

Remember that this is a surrender to a friend, a thing filled with humor and humility not a thing filled with shame or humiliation.  As for regret the only one I’ve ever had about step 3 is that I didn’t surrender earlier.  Trying to pull a moose by its antlers across the desert was always a ridiculous endeavor, but a friend will stay close and let you try, always ready to lend a hand if asked, though never stealing the opportunity for me to recognize on my own how foolish I have been.  Hilarity ensues as I explain my thinking and turn the project over to a brighter mind and more able hand realizing then; there is no good reason to pull that big thing across that vast wasteland.  On the way back we chat about platypus and rhinoceros and laugh at how many strange things seem like bright ideas in the quiet space of even a great brain.  I have avoided surrendering fearing the loneliness and defeat.  Struggling alone with my torment was lonely; turning myself over to my best friend keeps me in the very best company.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/0VICoQBksyo

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

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Sod

February 25

SOD

Green and black, pinwheels of rolled grass speed by me on a flatbed.  Sod headed for home.  That is how it is for me.  I grew in a place of impermanence, a place clearly not my destination.  Uprooted and prepared for relocation, I am in transition.  My future surroundings, unknown, will be a perfect fit.  I have been anticipated, grown for a purpose, of which I am uninformed.  I have done my part.  I am ready to lay down my roots and become a lawn of seamless expanse.  Somewhere my Higher Power is grading a hill, smoothing the way.  I am ready to take my place in the landscape of sober living and right thinking.

Advocate for the sweetness inside you.

*

Cured

Ham is cured.

Thank God I’m not ham.

Ham likes to be the center of attention.

Thank God, I’m not ham.

I can’t be the worker among workers

if I believe I don’t need to work.

I can’t be a friend among friends

if I am an island or a precipice,

above or away from the need or reach of others.

Cured is a one way street

that leads to a dried up lonely end.

Just the same way that turning my cucumber

into a pickle took me out of the garden,

Curing takes me away

from the only home I know, recovery.

Though I am often raw and sometimes fresh,

these I can survive,

Finished due to the drying out process

that would be a living death.

Thank God I’m not cured.

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

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Thin Ice

February 18

THIN ICE

The ice is brittle, transparent and breaking away.  I brace for destruction, turmoil and frigid descent.  I am stuck in my topside thinking and can not realize the chance for freedom the cracking expanse promises.  I am an oceanic creature.  I can escape my watery bonds with the splitting of the ice.  Trapped in a hole I keep open only through the friction of my unrest, I am kept from the community of life to which I belong.  My reflection mixes with my view of the sky and I forget my place, forget my name, forget how I have come to be trapped here.  The pining after what is not mine to have has brought me to this thin edge.  I must break through to be who I am; in doing so I shatter the illusion of who I thought I was.  Zeal to zenith I must move away from the phantasm and mockery and take refuge in what I am.

Remember your genius.

*

Hiding

“Defeat is what you make of it,” says my sponsor.

“Fighting a thousand secret battles

when you claim that you want peace is not right.

The agony of defeat is when you keep on fighting.

There is no honor in waving the white flag,

but never laying down your arms.”

“I can’t just give them up

they have been in the family for years,”

my whining retort.

“I’m sure they have, darling, I’m sure they have,

and haven’t done any of you a lick of good either,”

her smug reply.

“They are good for sabotage,”

I begin my running start at her.

“Sabotage is something you only do to yourself,

because who else can you really sabotage?

Who do you really hate enough other than you?”

“My hobby is denying that you know.”

“Yes, and sweet lot of good it does you,

The war rages within you

and outside you say it’s harmony,

no matter all the signs of discord.”

“And if I were to really give up.  If, I were really tired enough,

how can I insure my safety?”

I asked with my hands nearly in the air.

“Tell the truth, even if it’s only to yourself.

Put space between you and weapons of mass destruction.

Oh, and make sure you surrender to a friend.”

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

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Jane Street

April 30

Jane Street

The space between wanting to live and not wanting to hurt is the alley in which I live.  This lane is not as narrow as you might think, in some places there is room for parking on one side.  Since I reside here more often than not I have filled it with many of the appliances, which allow me to pretend at life.  It doesn’t afford a truly clean or cheerful locale, but there are laughs, sometimes flowers in the spring.  Finding my way out of this is tricky.  When unlocked I find these are backdoors to commerce and though better than being sold wholesale, retail is not what I was hoping to find as I wrest myself from a confined existence.  I have heard of those who drive through   plate glass ignoring the structure.  I think this is less workable from the back.  What is left when I can’t bully or climb?  I guess I will have to throw my hands up and pray.

Acknowledge a myth about yourself

*

ROLES

You don’t have to give up playing God

Because it was a bad thing to do.

You have to give it up because it doesn’t work

Said my sponsor in her most gentle voice.

In a world seemingly spinning out of control

You, brave child, stepped up to the plate and took a swing

That is heroic not demonic

But impractical nevertheless

You have to be your own full-time job

Even when it feels like there are other jobs left unfilled

You don’t have to run around finding the feet

To fill those empty shoes

Maybe those empty shoes are just bait for a bad trap

Keep on your journey and you will come to a place where the work

Is being accomplished by a surprising cast of characters

You will be free to stick to the role ahead of you.

Bummed

April 22

Bummed

I accept change like coins slipped into a cup that sits beside me on the curb; never did it occur to me that I look in need of pity or alms from strangers, which is to say I don’t accept much these days, yet I do not fight it either.  I keep my head down when I can no longer fend off the inevitable.  I may not win control or compliance, might not remain strong enough to fight another day, but this too is a blessing somehow.  A laying down of arms and money in my pocket makes the world a funny place to endure when I’m living in the tiny room in my head. What good news it would be if I learned to throw the windows open and let the day take me, though this time it’s G-d that needs to wear the ear muffs and lead me through the coldness of change.  On my own I just walk further down the blind alleys and fold myself on this sidewalk in exhaustion.  I don’t like the tea or the sympathy, but I don’t think I would mind if G-d took me in.

Alphabetize your expectations

*

HOLD CARD

My bottom pulled my hold card to the tabletop

I turned it over and found I have a bit of value

Each time I turned over my will

My value increased.

After many spins, the face cards appear

I’m the Jack, the Queen, the King

I revel in the times and practice it has taken to get here

I play my hand and take my chances

I have been privileged to pair with wonderful sober partners

Who turn themselves over and transform before my eyes

The years raise the anti

And I play close to my chest

The stakes are high

And if I turn in the wrong direction

I can be the Joker once again.

Water Buddha

March 24

Water Buddha

The longer on the river I am the less I fear the river.  I still don’t know what lay ahead, anything may wait for me just around the next bend, but I fear this less and less.  Experience is a great foundation no matter what you are building or in which direction.  I’ve gotten my sea-legs, a sure sign of the mind cooperating with the realities the body is experiencing.  I have learned to avoid some forms of trouble and anticipate fortune more often.  Further on could be waterfall, ocean, dam; I will contend with any or all, come what may, for when it comes to riding the river I have learned the most important thing: I don’t need to push.

Be left, be right, be yourself

*

THE ORDER

I can't expect delivery if I haven't placed the order
I never seem to know what I want
Until after I have accepted something else.

I can remember thinking order meant procedure not procurement
Set the table, not end my hunger
I focused on rational intent and turned my face from desire

Assailing outcomes leads to disappointments
Asking for a hole to be filled may cause dumping
Not management or conservation

It's good to have a plan before signing the requisition
Please help me know who I am
So I know what I want

I can make a request and stop accepting orders of attack
Don't let me order the end
While I am still at the beginning

Two Powers

February 6

Two Powers

The river and the bridge; one force swift and roiling the other stolid and stoic, the first carries me away and the other carries me over.  For the love of liquid, current and life I have slipped in to the water and washed; my life abandoned.  For love of upright contact, terra bound movement I cross the bridge. Will I be deposited in the Ocean or wend to the City and back?  Where is the greater power in Surrender or Choice?

Ignorance and greed are the same thing aren’t they?

*

THE SEAMLESS DOOR

Tongue and groove fit tight.
The pickled boards belie the passage.
Hinges buried deep
Secreted inside the place with no words.

The door remains shut, hidden.
The air, candy sweet.
The space, filled with the unbroken stream
Of surreal childhood.

What can I tell you of this living snapshot?
Nothing but haltings
Stops and shutters
Of a life encapsulated.

Proudly, I walk from this train wreck
Only to find the tether stitched
To my heart,
My soul, my mind.

Flashing through the room,
I weary and wonder.
I have often found myself outside this confusing destination
But never have I seen the door.

Always, I believe this time I am free of it.
When I find myself again within this realm
I know it is something
I cannot be parted from.

Then what of the door?
The undetected portal
Was spied by me one day
While it swung in the breeze.

I saw the simple barn
And the open loft door.
I never thought my incubus to be housed
In so plain a construction.

There the turmoil of my forward motion
Stored in the attic of the pony shed.
So may tragic contrivances
Are stored in such candid spots

Accessibility is the beginning of approach.
I take the stairs.

Relapse is Not Required

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.

*

Step 3

Remember that this is a surrender to a friend, a thing filled with humor and humility not a thing filled with shame or humiliation.  As for regret the only one I’ve ever had about step 3 is that I didn’t surrender earlier.  Trying to pull a moose by its antlers across the desert was always a ridiculous endeavor, but a friend will stay close and let you try, always ready to lend a hand if asked, though never stealing the opportunity for me to recognize on my own how foolish I have been.  Hilarity ensues as I explain my thinking and turn the project over to a brighter mind and more able hand realizing then; there is no good reason to pull that big thing across that vast wasteland.  On the way back we chat about platypus and rhinoceros and laugh at how many strange things seem like bright ideas in the quiet space of even a great brain.  I have avoided surrendering fearing the loneliness and defeat.  Struggling alone with my torment was lonely; turning myself over to my best friend keeps me in the very best company.

Thin Ice

February 18

THIN ICE

The ice is brittle, transparent and breaking away. I brace for destruction, turmoil and frigid descent. I am stuck in my topside thinking and can not realize the chance for freedom the cracking expanse promises. I am an oceanic creature. I can escape my watery bonds with the splitting of the ice. Trapped in a hole I keep open only through the friction of my unrest, I am kept from the community of life to which I belong. My reflection mixes with my view of the sky and I forget my place, forget my name, forget how I have come to be trapped here. The pining after what is not mine to have has brought me to this thin edge. I must break through to be who I am; in doing so I shatter the illusion of who I thought I was. Zeal to zenith I must move away from the phantasm and mockery and take refuge in what I am.

Remember your genius.

*

Hiding

“Defeat is what you make of it,” says my sponsor.

“Fighting a thousand secret battles

when you claim that you want peace is not right.

The agony of defeat is when you keep on fighting.

There is no honor in waving the white flag,

but never laying down your arms.”

“I can’t just give them up

they have been in the family for years,”

my whining retort.

“I’m sure they have, darling, I’m sure they have,

and haven’t done any of you a lick of good either,”

her smug reply.

“They are good for sabotage,”

I begin my running start at her.

“Sabotage is something you only do to yourself,

because who else can you really sabotage?

Who do you really hate enough other than you?”

“My hobby is denying that you know.”

“Yes, and sweet lot of good it does you,

The war rages within you

and outside you say it’s harmony,

no matter all the signs of discord.”

“And if I were to really give up. If, I were really tired enough,

how can I insure my safety?”

I asked with my hands nearly in the air.

“Tell the truth, even if it’s only to yourself.

Put space between you and weapons of mass destruction.

Oh, and make sure you surrender to a friend.”