My Heroine

October 18

MY HEROINE

The corpse that is my childhood is mine to protect from the wolves and rats of denial and collusion.  The infant who commits suicide in self-defense is my heroine.  The pure thinking of an uncluttered mind seizes on the only possible way for me to survive.  Her death at her own hand is my rescue.  If the bad had killed her I would have died with her.  In her plan, I was left as the seed she ejected in her assent.  She is gone from this place; I feel her only as the wisp of memory.  The tiny body laid flat on the carpet, her pressed pinafore somehow more alive than she, is the unfinished business of prevention.  As long as I see her there and do not walk away from my responsibility and never forget she protected me with the life she never lived, I am free to live this life.

Throw ice cubes up for God to catch.

*

Earl Grey is not my Friend

Scabby knees is what I look for;

I need to be with those who climb,

not those who slide.

I hate to say it, but looking cool

and sitting on the sidelines

does nothing for me or my sobriety.

I have to build those calluses,

require patches in my clothes,

carry a hammer to pound in those spikes.

If I don’t see tools in your hands

and bodily evidence that you have been using them,

I really don’t have time for you.

This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me

and if it isn’t for you then have fun

and I hope you have a good seat,

but I am not staying for your tea party;

I have no time for tarts.

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

Humility

September 19

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 mountaintops 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 the 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.

Know your friends well and your books better.

*

Toolbox

I know just how hard it is to pick up the right tools.

It's like I know I have a hammer in the drawer,

in fact I have two, so, why oh, why do I feel compelled

to hit things with the heel of my shoe?

Trust and believe it is ineffective at best;

additionally it is embarrassing.

I wish I could say I have done this a handful of times,

unfortunately, I have done it over and over,

it’s hell on my shoes and worse on my morale.

Using what is at hand or foot may seem practical,

but it is not prudent.

Walking myself through the step by step process;

reading and following directions is easier

but only when I disengage the lie that says it’s harder.

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

Hawaiian Graffiti

August 9

HAWAIIAN GRAFFITI

White pebbles spell themselves across the black of lava grown cold.  Personal announcements proclaim love, school pride, religious freedom.  The care of placement and consideration of design make the roadside an ongoing mineral memo.  What message would I care to share?  What words would prompt me to bring a pail of crushed marble to the edge of the road?  Is there a truth so urgent I would take time from paradise to spell it out?  A few more miles and I see the words I live by strewn down the thoroughfare, “it works if you work it.”

Joint your possibilities.

*

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool, I know this,

yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.

I look into the well of my despair

then quickly I look away,

I fear informing God what I need

lest the need be filled.

I need to believe that a power will heal me,

but if I am provided with the force of life,

I shrink from the prospect.

This too, must be added to the list

of my emotional woes and mental shortages.

This too, will be healed.

I look at my problems

and then realize, that like the moon,

who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore,

solutions are installed in heaven and earth

if I know what the problem is.

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

If I had a Screwdriver

March 2

IF I HAD A SCREWDRIVER

If I had anything other than this hammer, possibly, I would discontinue pounding this helix into the side of my universe.  The slot is unused; the flat head of my sledge slams.  A wide void is punched into my abyss as the threads are pummeled not turned.  If I had picked up the right tools, if they had been displayed within my reach, if my granny had five wheels she might yet be a wagon. 

I have picked up new tools but, having never seen them used, I bang with them.  Watching others twisting the wrist and angling the elbow, I try to wrap my mind around the posture.  Muscles I have never used, laminated to mental configurations unthought of, improvement in workmanship is slow.  Many a fine toolbox has remained full and untouched, the mind lacking the dexterity to grasp the in-workings, the body ill-equipped for the outer.  If I had a screwdriver, I pray I could bring to it the flexibility of sinew and the nimbleness of wit.

Remember the minutes; they belong to you.

*

Reality and Desire

“I know the difference between desire and reality,”

I whisper to my new found friend.

Who I am and what I am,

are a reality unto themselves,

Your recognition of that

and how you handle said recognition

are for you and God.

The vastness of the true you;

I hope to spend a lifetime surveying;

but not sampling.

What you want and your reality

are not mine to mind or mend.

If you are driving that train this is on you

If HP is the driver all the more incentive

for me to be still, enjoy the ride and await the outcome.

For in the end the question is never,

will you be mine, but what will I be to you.

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

Toolbox

September 20

Toolbox

I know just how hard it is to pick up the right tools.  It's like I know I have a hammer in the drawer, in fact I have two, so, why oh, why do I feel compelled to hit things with the heel of my shoe?  Trust and believe it is ineffective at best; additionally it is embarrassing. I wish I could say I have done this a handful of times, unfortunately, I have done it over and over, it’s hell on my shoes and worse on my morale.  Using what is at hand or foot may seem practical, but it is not prudent.  Walking myself through the step by step process; reading and following directions is easier but only when I disengage the lie that says it’s harder.

Build a canopy over elucidation

*

SAFETY IN MY CHAIR

Sometimes

I have to sit with my knees

Tucked up under my chin

My feet can’t touch the floor

At these moments I hug my legs to me.

I feel contained

But somehow adrift in my chair.

I center my mind on breath and pulse

Pure fear flits and flutters

While I gain my composure.

When I feel safe enough

To put one foot down

Then the other and connect

With the world again.

I am leaving home to embark this earthly trek

The journey is there for me everyday

But some days I curl up in my chair.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Pick up your hammer and saw

August 9

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool.  I know this, yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity.  I look into the well of my despair then quickly I look away, I fear informing G-d what I need lest the need be filled. I need to believe that a power will heal me, but if I am provided with the force of life, I shrink from the prospect.  This too, must be added to the list of my emotional woes and mental shortages.  This too, will be healed.  I look at my problems and then realize, that like the moon, who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore, solutions are installed in heaven and earth if I know what the problem is.

Experiment, start living a dream

*

COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.

Comfort is at the skin

But willingness is under it.

I can live without comfort

But not without willingness

Both are unseen but felt deeply.

Willingness drives to the destination

And comfort settles me in once there.

Comfort is a gift like warmth,

Willingness is a gift like breath.

I have been tempted to let go of willingness

To hold onto comfort.

True willingness brings true comfort

Never the other way around.

No matter where I have to go

Willingness will take me there,

I hope comfort will follow.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Black & Dedication

May 31

Black & Dedication

The brand of equipment endorsed by my Higher Power is built so that my hand is clasped inside lest I feel alone or unaided.  A closed mouth and an open mind work very well when I can manage either of them and Step 10 works when I can’t.  I am usually the problem in my life but I am always the solution.  Others may change and contribute; I am the one and only one, responsible for my happiness.  Dropping blame from my vocabulary and adding responsibility, learning to differentiate between what is mine and what is yours; these tools are keys and they open worlds of possibility to me.  Also they shut out the demons of wrong thinking, wrong acting and desperation, which used to plague me. There are still greater tools I yearn for but like everything I must be patient and build my muscles to handle the heavier machinery.

Dine with hope

*

GULPING

The plug that lodges in my throat

From too much, too fast

Causes the anxiety to rise in me.

The panic fills my contracting muscles

Into rock solid revolt.

I can’t live, is the predictable result

Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex,

Does the same thing

My heart clots and my personality stops in mid-flow

Everything in carefully chosen, well chewed bites

Makes the process proceed

My life works along workable paths

If I stay away from oversized freight

I can never swallow myself whole

Why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire?

Clock and Calendar Girl

April 2

Clock and Calendar Girl

I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through.  The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder; I climb from month to month and age to age.  When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more.  Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain.  Take away my clock and I go deaf, remove my calendar and I go blind.  Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.

Address your future

*

THE SCULPTOR

Stuck in a block, my sponsor chips away at me
I struggle to hold still
With surgical precision she cuts through the debris
With which I have surrounded myself

After my sponsor frees my hand and arm
She places a hammer in my open fingers
When the other arm and hand are rescued
She places a chisel in that hand

This is how before my head showed above the surface
I began to help in my own restoration
I am the sculptor
The program has made me

Recovery has taught me
I can be anything
If I keep chipping away
At the things which hold me hostage

As time travels on I am a new shape
With each turn through the steps
And have an ever lustrous finish
With every application of the traditions

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

August 9

Pick up Your Hammer and Saw

The task infers the tool. I know this, yet I resist clearly mapping my insanity. I look into the well of my despair then quickly I look away, I fear informing G-d what I need lest the need be filled. I need to believe that a power will heal me, but if I am provided with the force of life, I shrink from the prospect. This too, must be added to the list of my emotional woes and mental shortages. This too, will be healed. I look at my problems and then realize, that like the moon, who pulls the water from dry shore to dry shore, solutions are installed in heaven and earth if I know what the problem is.

Experiment, start living a dream

*

COMFORT AND WILLINGNESS

Closer than comfort is willingness.

Comfort is at the skin

But willingness is under it.

I can live without comfort

But not without willingness

Both are unseen but felt deeply.

Willingness drives to the destination

And comfort settles me in once there.

Comfort is a gift like warmth,

Willingness is a gift like breath.

I have been tempted to let go of willingness

To hold onto comfort.

True willingness brings true comfort

Never the other way around.

No matter where I have to go

Willingness will take me there,

I hope comfort will follow.

Black & Dedication

May 31

Black & Dedication

The brand of equipment endorsed by my Higher Power is built so that my hand is clasped inside lest I feel alone or unaided. A closed mouth and an open mind work very well when I can manage either of them and Step 10 works when I can’t. I am usually the problem in my life but I am always the solution. Others may change and contribute; I am the one and only one, responsible for my happiness. Dropping blame from my vocabulary and adding responsibility, learning to differentiate between what is mine and what is yours; these tools are keys and they open worlds of possibility to me. Also they shut out the demons of wrong thinking, wrong acting and desperation, which used to plague me. There are still greater tools I yearn for but like everything I must be patient and build my muscles to handle the heavier machinery.

Dine with hope

*

GULPING

The plug that lodges in my throat

From too much, too fast

Causes the anxiety to rise in me.

The panic fills my contracting muscles

Into rock solid revolt.

I can’t live, is the predictable result

Gulping attention, acclaim, excitement, sex,

Does the same thing

My heart clots and my personality stops in mid-flow

Everything in carefully chosen, well chewed bites

Makes the process proceed

My life works along workable paths

If I stay away from oversized freight

I can never swallow myself whole

Why would I keep trying to imbibe giants like desire?

Clock and Calendar Girl

April 2

Clock and Calendar Girl

I depend on the count and measure of time to get me through. The swing of the pendulum carries me from moment to moment and the divisions between days are like the rungs on a ladder; I climb from month to month and age to age. When I hold my breath I count the tic, tic, tic till the difficult time passes and I can inhale once more. Harder things require X’s in their numbered boxes to help me transverse the larger distance and rockier terrain. Take away my clock and I go deaf, remove my calendar and I go blind. Tools are tools even if they only aid sight and sound.

Address your future

*

THE SCULPTOR

Stuck in a block, my sponsor chips away at me
I struggle to hold still
With surgical precision she cuts through the debris
With which I have surrounded myself

After my sponsor frees my hand and arm
She places a hammer in my open fingers
When the other arm and hand are rescued
She places a chisel in that hand

This is how before my head showed above the surface
I began to help in my own restoration
I am the sculptor
The program has made me

Recovery has taught me
I can be anything
If I keep chipping away
At the things which hold me hostage

As time travels on I am a new shape
With each turn through the steps
And have an ever lustrous finish
With every application of the traditions

Earl Grey is not my Friend

October 19

Earl Grey is not my Friend

Scabby knees is what I look for; I need to be with those who climb, not those who slide. I hate to say it, but looking cool and sitting on the sidelines does nothing for me or my sobriety. I have to build those calluses, require patches in my clothes, carry a hammer to pound in those spikes. If I don’t see tools in your hands and bodily evidence that you have been using them, I really don’t have time for you. This is a “let’s go, lets go” kind of recovery for me and if it isn’t for you then have fun and I hope you have a good seat, but I am not staying for your tea party; I have no time for tarts.

Explain the difference between a rabbit and a bunny

*

SLOTH TOES

A sloth is known by the number of its toes
Not its name or love of art or music.
The oddest attributes draw attention and acclaim
From scorekeepers and flag-wavers of the world.

Going my way in this life I am seen by clock-watchers
As timeless and by trumpeters as soundless.
I am not defined by these.

The number of my toes or the time I keep
Or the sound I make is more than who I am.
An explanation of me will not fit on an index card
Or nameplate or job title.

As long as I stay clear of these traps
And classifications I am safe.
If I buy in or fall down
My sum and total will neatly fit on a toe tag.