AND I BELIEVE YOU
“This will be easy,” says my sponsor.
“Oh, yes. Simplicity itself. I’m sure,” I respond. “I’ve participated in these plans before.”
“We get good results,” she retorts.
“I love how you pick goals, which are intellectual straight lines and emotional roller coasters. You do it with an open face, not a modicum of guilt.”
“Why should I feel guilty? You keep getting better; I keep staying sober. What is there to feel bad about?”
“The guileless look on your face; I fall for it every time, but no more. I know you’re cunning. You know this will be hard. I remember when we worked on honesty. What could have been simpler? Or hope, how sweet a concept. After thirty rounds on the floor with setting limits, I realized you’re like the bean seller that Jack met. You say they are magic beans and I believe you. You say they will grow to the sky. I know they will and I will climb them. Just don’t tell me it will be easy.”
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A Duck Trying to Teach a Fish to Swim
Just because you’ve been in the water
doesn’t mean you know how to swim.
Just because you swim in the water
doesn’t mean you can teach me how.
Floating on top and plunging your head
under the surface occasionally
doesn’t qualify you to safe guard me.
Poaching is unpleasant to those of us caught,
we that were foolish enough to believe
that birds of a feather can teach school
are picked off and swallowed
by the benevolence of so much quack.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault