I am my own hope.
The spring of willingness flows within me and makes everything possible.
I am my own dream.
Colors and sprinkles fly in my mind and mix with a sprite’s laugh and make me enchanted.
I am my own joy.
Filled with wonder and delight, my quick turns and ready mind warm my heart and pink my cheeks.
I am my own prize.
New and exciting, every day that I am myself,
Pith is dry and dead, be marrow.
Dewy, Cheatum & Howe
I must radically sever the close connection I have
with self-seeking, self-pity and dishonesty.
What will I use to pay the retainer
for the representation I will need to pursue this divorce?
Willingness is the earnest money,
which will start the ball rolling,
hard work pitches in its share
and faith pays the note each day I apply it.
All this and more is what it takes to divide
the endless stream of my compulsive thought
into a survivable day’s worth of life.
I have the prospect of being happy as a divorcee
or I could be a miserable widow
if I stay wed to my disease.
You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault