I must be my own tattletale. I must give my sponsor bullets to shoot down my disease. Anything I protect and nurture will grow and overtake me. It is up to me to choose if I will feed my ailment or my health. My life will be consumed, that is a guarantee; all things feed into others. The direction this meal takes is my daily decision. The bull’s eye can be hit if I describe the target. The ending will be happy if the story I tell is my own.
Calculate the risk and build a bridge.
“Rebellion dogs our every step at first”
AA’s 12 and 12
They won’t come to heal, won’t sit, won’t stay,
these dogs circle waiting for signs of weakness
or vulnerable skin, but there they are;
they have been found out.
The ones that worry me more
are those that took show and place,
the dogs that stand in the shadows and lurk in the wing.
What are their names I wonder?
Their distinctive smell?
Must I identify these writhing mutts
or simply call animal control?
Though this never worked with rebellion dogs
these lesser pups surely would run
from would be dog catchers and leave me to my dreams.
Alas, I name them and show them to my friends;
we like they run in packs
and are served well by honest disclosure.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault