My alcoholism was anonymous even while I was active. My destruction was internal, outside evidence kept to a minimum. It is easy to understand why so many from my past as well as my present are shocked to see me a member in good standing for a club they never saw me pay the price to join. But cost doesn’t always advertise in the public square. I know the score, the numbers etched upon my soul. I need to be well even if you didn’t know I am sick. I take the medicine; offer a smile to those who think it prophylactic and keep upon my path. Just because you didn’t know the contents of my bottle doesn’t mean I didn’t earn the tag on my tea.
Attend the clues your body gives you
I heard people in meetings sharing about peeling onions
They say they peel layer after layer until it’s all gone!
What the hell is that all about?
I demand in the general direction of my sponsor.
Zealotry, it’s about zealotry
I peel my onions too,
I have many layers of dried-up, paper-thin rhetoric
Which I use to protect myself.
I have to slit this papery husk
And eject myself from the illusion
To get the living and vital usefulness underneath
Then I try to let God decide where is the best place
To add flavor, stew is good but salad is a treat
I can go anywhere once the waste is stripped away.
What about the issues you haven’t worked out yet?
I bait my sponsor
Well those are other onions-
Is all she would say.