Mud Pies

March 7

 

 

MUD PIES

 

Mud pies and retro-childhood are for the hurt ones, small and angry inside me.  They require care and special attention, but I can’t stop with them.  Saving the children to starve the adolescents is a sad fate, and abandoning adults after bringing them all this long way would be indescribably cruel.  I cannot work on healing all the while waiting for some ice floe to shove myself off on.  There is never a time when I am not the responsible party for the people who inhabit my interior life.  I live their reflection every day; there is no one-way mirror with which to hide unresolved issues, no rug to sweep them under; they flow through me like a river.  I must return to them to breed new health as a salmon swims back to the waters of its birth to bring new life.  I must brave the complexities of maturity; I cannot just sit in the mud.

 

 

Make a truce with your fears.

 

*

 

The Price of Today’s Ride

Much of my spiritual awakening has been spent

separating myself from the nightmare of the past,

reassuring myself that in fact, it, the horror, is over.

As my present has improved my reactions

are still invested with the hide or fly coping

of a child dealing with terror.

Things get better yet barricades are erected,

departing flights secured.

Disengaging the clutch of fingers wrapped so tightly

around the escape hatch takes a great deal of my

short supply of faith and confidence.

Laying down my anticipatory reluctance

in favor of optimism has had the breathtaking feel of pain,

though in fact it was only the separation

from a poisonous crutch and the vacuum it creates.

Allowing myself to see beauty

at the same time as I deal with the truth of the past;

standing in the full light of morning

and not blocking out the brilliant pain of night

is the outstanding gift my spiritual path affords me.

 

 

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

Advertisements

About Sherrie Theriault

Sherrie Theriault, writer and outsider artist lives in northwest New Jersey where she writes villain-free fiction for children and young adults, creates coloring books for all ages, writes daily inspiration books for the recovery community and has other works of collected poetry; also adult fiction. Books available on Amazon.com include the following: Cala Mae The Deep Dark Day In The Congenial Chronicles The Holland’s Adventure Fill Me In Fill Me In, Too Filled In Sober on the Way to Sane More Sober on the Way to Sane Lines from My Life More Lines from My Life On-Liners to Live By My Sponsor Said… Elissa: Queen of Carthage Was Love Lost Order of Protection The Story Precedes the Question Can You See? What the Birdies Told Me about You What the Birdies Told Me about You Coloring book The Enchanting Dog Sherrie’s books are available at Blue Stockings, Manhattan, NY, The Clinton Book Shoppe, Clinton, New Jersey, Giovanni’s Room, Philadelphia, PA, Easy Does It in Long Beach, CA and The Latest Thing in Costa Mesa, Ca. You can find Sherrie’s art work at Hang-Ups Gallery in Allentown, PA or online at: SerendipitousGallery.com Please feel free to contact her there if you have any questions.
This entry was posted in 12 step recovery, abandonment, abuse, acceptance, Alcoholics Anonymous, Humor, Poetry, Sponsorship and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s