IT ALL WORKED OUT

Everything must happen for a reason
All the good, the bad, and the ugly
Overcoming challenges and obstacles in life
Build character
Molding me into the person I didn't even know I was
But who I am truly meant to be
Blessed
Blessed to be alive another day
Every day
A blessing and miracle 
To look back on my journey so far
Encouraged by faith and hope to continue
I thank God every morning and night
Because God is my "HIGHEST" power
All things work together for my highest good
I thank YOU because
It all worked out

It's Different for Me

How is this so?
I don't know
But it's different for me
Experiences change us
For better or worse
Strength can vary
From moment to moment
Hope is the pinnacle of life
A beacon of light we all need
I have that
But it's different for me
At least I think it is
My perception of the difference
Limited by my explanation
I can't tell you how
Maybe it's not by much
But it's different for me

Everyone is So Certain

Everyone is so certain
it won't happen to them,
until it does.
Everyone is so certain
it won't go too far,
but who can ever stop?
Everyone is so certain
just by the confidence made,
by those already going along.
Everyone is so certain
even though everything is going wrong,
best friends and family gone.

Everyone is so certain,
until they’re not.
To be certain of nothing
will not subtract from agency
and will allow for questioning.
Credibility comes through principle practicing.
The road to certainty is never ending,
might as well walk it with autonomous authority.
Do good, anonymously.

I Remember that Place

I remember that place
Where we used to visit
When we were all still young
Before we’d all gone off
To other places
And had little ones of our own
I remember that place
When we were free
With safety held in torch lights
By our family and elders
Now we hold the illusions
I remember that place
Before tragedy wrenched our guts
Before we were all sucker punched
Boredom was my worst enemy and yours turned out to be someone
you loved and thought you could trust
I remember that place that held us once
Now we aren’t quite hopeless
But certainly weary
I worry about you little brother
I pray by the way
You told me
Since you told me
God speaks to you in dreams
I don’t know what you’re doing
Or where you’re going now
It looks like the road you’ve been taking
Might be changing
It looks like you have a good companion with you
I love you\
In my dreams you hear me telling you to come home
I miss you
It would be nice to see you more regularly though
I know when I go remembering that place
That we never had it easy
But things are shaping up here believe me
In any case, you know, be happy bro
And take it easy

It Wasn’t the Right Time
It wasn’t the right time for him to start in. He, of course, was not aware of this. None of them were. That was doubly true. Once because they were new to the world in general and just were hardly aware of how to move their bodies. All ego, the little foreign people, I heard someone call them once, because of how they are learning to talk and they sometimes are hard to comprehend as they aren’t always speaking in fully formed sentences. Secondly, because they haven’t learned that there are social expectations – for good reasons – which it is useful to be aware of when entering new contexts.

My context was that I was fully aware of all of them, as I had to be watching out for not only my own but also any one of their trajectories. We were at the Inglewood Pump Track when he started to drop in without seeing me coming. I was nearly over the last hump before the big curve on the smaller track. I would have run right into him. I was going too fast. I turned, suddenly, the opposite direction which I had planned to turn. Instead of colliding into and probably demolishing his little body, I slid on my shinbone like a nice boardslide might do, across the sharp corner of the curve’s lip. The edge sliced right through my pants. There was blood everywhere. The kid didn’t even notice.

Where I’m Headed

Where I’m headed could be many things I suppose.

It could be full of different people or empty.

It could be home.

Or maybe I’m already home wherever I go.

Maybe places are always empty, and people just come as they go.

One thing I know is that where ever I go, there I am.

And whenever I feel lost, I just have to get honest to find my way again.

I don’t think where I am headed is on map. I couldn’t tell you where to go to find me in five years. I can tell you that I have hope. I hope for trees and similar things. Rich oxygen, clean, fresh water.

All the things, the experiences, the mistakes, the adventures I’ve had so far would suggest to me that whatever comes next I will love more than I can imagine now. So, where I’m headed maybe doesn’t matter so much. We are here and happy. I love you. Thank you for having me.

What I Expected
by Reeta the ReeMix

I had no idea. I couldn't even fathom life on the other side.
Sobriety? I've heard of that.
That's when you quit doing what you couldn't stop doing before.
Drinking, smoking, using substances 
To escape reality and avoid the pains of life.
I used to say, "That's for quitters, and I never give up!"
Now, on the other hand
Or the other side of the coin
"Heads"
Is recovery
Not at all what I expected
Well, I also had no clue.
I know when a person is healing after being broken
Like an arm or leg, or surgery
Recovery is the slow process of getting better
Recovery also means healing my distorted perception of life
After 18 months
It's way better than
What I expected

It Wasn't the Right Time 
by Reeta the ReeMix

Is there ever really a "right" time?
There can definitely be a wrong time.
But isn't time relative?
Or an illusion?
I think time is just a way for people to differentiate
What has happened already
From what has not happened yet
But there is no time like the present
It only exists in this moment
So... if it wasn't the right time
That means anytime but now
Because "Now" is the best time

Where I'm Headed 
The answer to this question may change
Depending on how I'm feeling at the moment
Who’s asking who, and what is the purpose of asking

If I'm asking myself
The purpose is awareness
With the intention to process
My feelings, directions
Or the necessary actions that I must take

If someone else is asking
They may be offering help
Curious because they admire something
Or just being nosy

Writers for Recovery workshop leader April Patrick got some great shots of a rehearsal for the spoken word event at the Bennington Theater in Bennington, VT this Sunday. Here’s a link for free tickets!! Come out and support Writers for Recovery!

As it is every year, Vermont Recovery Day was a chance to connect with friends, learn all about recovery work across our amazing state, hear from some of the leaders and inspirations of the recovery world, and share the world of our writers. Thanks so much to VAMHAR, our amazing readers, and everyone else who made recovery day possible. People Do Recover!

Underneath It All

We all want the same thing. A warm loving hearth and home. Sometimes I feel like I’m a broken record talking about truth, love and peace. Togetherness never separate, comfort, belonging, compassion, a self-perpetuating desire to know my Divine Highest Self. All of us so unique, yet the same. Underneath the weight of all the artificial contrivances and broken systems I feel stifled. Underneath the weight/wait of the world, I know what true reality is meant to be. And yet we wait, hesitate, fear. Ignorance has a Beginning. Ignorance (spiritual) has an END! I hope it’s end is near. Self-realization is always at hand. And Divine Union is a sure thing.

What I Left Behind

Belongings - Belonging. Following the sign posts, keeping company with ghosts. All ways lonely, but never alone, the signs keep saying, I’m on my way Home. Be patient, don’t catch the train, suffering is optional - but with healing there’s pain.

The Person Who Is My Secret Weapon

She cradles gently, loves me unconditionally.
When I met her (though she has all ways been with me), she gave me quite a scare.
All ways nurturing, teaching, protecting, guiding, supporting, sustaining.
She gives me breath, and I dance and move to the rhythm of her heart. My Divine Counterpart, my Shakti, my effervescent Ever Present Moment (Kali).
My Ego-Phantom collapses and I kiss her lotus feet.
She uncoils from my root and Elevates my Being.

I didn’t have a _________
Every time I had a goal, a plan, a desire, \
Life has barred my way.
I say, “I will do this in life,” and
I am denied. Soldier, husband, father - all
Titles I cannot claim, yet know I am.

Do You Mind If I Ask You?

Can I be me, and you be you,
And reveal the One behind the Mask.
Do you mind if We open our hearts to the world (Each Other)
To be a seeker of truth,
Can I open my heart to you? Will you try
To break it, break me? Lifetimes of
Suffering I endure for you. Will you
Put me onto the Cross again, will you
Protect your ignorance?
Why do you hide behind a mask?
I see you anyway, I feel you all the
Time.

I AM FROM

All over. Depends on what is meant by “From.” Where was I born? Where did I grow up as a child? Where as a teen? An adult? Where was I an hour ago? Or, to go deeper/further, I am from the very Source of Creation - DIVINE UNION of parents, 4 grandparents, 8 great-grandparents, multiples again and again, back through the ages. So many Lives, chance encounters, serendipitous adventures, and unimaginable tragedies.
Lives so perfectly woven into the tapestry of creation and dissolution/destruction. Wisdom carried on, gained, distilled and distributed into the very fabric of Being. Truth, Love and Peace being the Alpha and Omega of this All. Transcendent constituent properties of phenomenal illumination, motion, and rebirth.

A GUIDE TO THE UNBELIEVABLE TOURIST ATTRACTIONS OF:

The Garden Island, where Mount Waiʻaleʻale Reigns/Rains torrential the life giving waters. Where Mama Āina gives unconditionally to her Tenders of the Garden. Where chickens run wild, and so do the children. Barefoot Aloha style. You know DAKINE. Where you will ‘Be Bumbai!,’ and there is always good food to grind. When you’re Pau Hana, and the clear waters and coral reefs of Anini Beach call, where Honu swim with you, cuz they know cuz is chill. And don’t forget the Night Marchers and the Menehune, Island Spirits who are always aware. The island I call home, just like Braddah IZ, an island Somewhere Over The Rainbow, I could show you something new and breathtaking every day.

Some Advice for the Newly Sober
Good luck
This road is hard
You have to accept
Who you truly are
Remember to give
Yourself some grace
And set your own pace
You may go
Up down and back around
That’s ok
Recovery is not a linear path
Some will say
You’ll find what works for you
Please
Keep coming back.

I was so young back then

In that time of pain and neglect
That I don’t even remember
But that trauma stuck with me
Engrained in my brain
God, I feel so utterly drained
I was so young back then.
Before memory became an issue
Back when I could breathe fully
Shallow, hurried breaths
I was so young
Back then
Before the sadness started
To start.

It’s five year from now and everything is awesome.

Finally I have stepped in as the mother I’m meant to be
with my own little family.
I’ve been off the hard stuff for the last 5 or so years,
I’ll still have a drink every now and again
I’m off probation
And that’s a cool fact
My life is much better
If you can believe that.

The Safest Place on Planet Earth…
Is a place I hope to find
Filled with untamed beauty
The most majestic kind
Twinkling sparkles of snow
Throughout the forest blanketed in white
What a beautiful sight
The only sound to hear
Is the pattering of a deer
And the sound of the snow crunching
Under my boots
A gust of wind
Snow falls down
My back
Reminding me to be here.

November 10, 1993 - Springfield MA

I had begged my mom to go to the concert if I promised my older brother Theodore would bring me. I bought the tickets to the show at the price of $17.50 apiece at the Springfield Civic Center. Me, my brother and a few of his friends piled into a station wagon from Rutland, Vermont, to make the 2.5 hour ride. We get to the city and park. Walking to the show, I spotted a vendor selling an ‘In Utero’ tour t-shirt. I buy one and put it on instantly. We get into the show, realizing we had seats. We made our way to the floor instead. The music started. Deep into the mosh pit we went. The first two bands played and we patiently waited for them to leave the stage. They come on. Crowd is roaring, fists and elbows are flying. Theodore is throwing coins and shoes on stage. The act stops briefly. I proceed to try to jump on stage, but am held back. Mind you I have only one good foot. I try again…

What Scares Me The Most Is 

What scares me the most is
Surviving, dying, cheating, lying, 
Believing, spiders, snakes, murder,
Homicide, accidents, heights,
Lost, found, hell, heaven, 
Not knowing, pretending, being famous,
Isolation, intolerance, monsters
Under my bed, aliens, UFOs, and 
Beings from Outerspace. 

My Dream Job

My dream job would be writing songs for up and coming young bands
Lyrics and music and ideas
Band names and logos
Ideas for merchandise and albums
Concept albums or singles
Songs about Women and Cities
Albums that have dimensions
”Different styles of music from Punk Rock, Goth and Metal “
To alternative, Indie, and Modern Rock
”All the different styles that are relevant
I know it would be a killer job to produce and mold younger acts
As well as having gigs myself
From bar bands to college groups
All that Rock n Roll will bring on with guitars, drums, and microphones, the looks, the sounds
And the merch tables, backdrops and the fans,
The music and the clubs,
Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll
On with the show

What to Do When You Need To Take Care of Yourself

Mind, spirit, Body, Psyche, Intuition
Reason agility strength superstition
Brainiac soulful anatomy Will
Cranium Ether empathy thrills
I want to fly and grow
Become invisible center of the show
Superego Id and the Shadow
Devil horns and pitchfork wings with halo
Witness watcher meditation Om
Heart head hands and home
American Indian Blackfoot Abenaki
Shaman Warlock spiritual walkie talkie
Radio Waves Brain Waves Alpha and Delta
Food, Manna, Water, life, shelter
I want to heal be peaceful…
Wild poetic antipsychotic & beautiful

What Scares Me The Most

My own evil deep down inside
Down so deep where demons hide
I see the monster in a mirror of dreams
A Bloody bludgeoned macabre fiend
Wasting his life with heroin and cocaine
Amphetamines alcohol and a soul gone insane
Afraid to succeed scared to fail
Fall down again but the human prevails
My shadow self is a ghost on the prowl
Werewolf vampire doppelganger howl
Silhouette Russian roulette for my reflection
Striving living and dying for perfection
Losing my freedom, locked in a cage,
Rats, losers, spiders, and monsters enraged
Killers haters wasted away in Hell
Building a tower I scream and yell
At myself for being too kind and too used
Just another human needing some abuse
Watching through the outside looking in
Another maniac drowning in sin
Mortal sorrowful sad and true
Angelic lustful lost to the noose

For A Moment I Felt Like Myself Again

When I put my fingers on the strings
When the Rhythm started to bring
Back memories of bars and girls
Backrooms and stages in this world
The buzz I felt when the music flowed
My heart my chain my soul it glowed
Running away into the darkest night
Under the stars and the pale moonlight
I feel wild and I feel so damn free
When her arms are wrapped around me
I want love I want satisfaction
Not just humanistic react reaction
I felt like I was eighteen again
Partying and dancing with my old friends
Living life like a brakeless car
Wishing and hoping on a shooting star
It’s Eleven-Eleven, make a wish
I miss her dearly our very last kiss
I remember what it felt to be
Young eighteen wild and free…

When I was a child there was this game we would play…my siblings and I would collect leaves, stack them and call them money. We would create little gas stations on the property where we could stop with our bikes and get gas and oil from one another. Of course we would pay with our nature money. I love to think of how much fun we had due to our imaginations. At first we were using water as our fake gas, but our grandmother noticed us dumping water all over our bikes and bike chains and came to our rescue. She gave us a little oil canister. Our bikes chains much preferred this over the water that only led to rust. Thank God for Grandma. 

I Am From
I am from cornfields, arranged in a maze around a city, with buildings higher than the plumes of smoke blotting out the sky from unconventional science labs. 
I am from where I am not, and I am glad to be here. 

A Guide to the Unbelievable Tourist Attractions of Indiana
We have potholes that ended prehistoric life, scattered amongst the roads and highways.  
So much flat land, it’s a hidden gem to Flat Earth Society. 
Quite a few haunted attractions around spooky time of the year. 
Outside of that, you’ll have corn going from ear to ear: if it’s not tainted from the scorched science labs. 

Thanksgiving Thoughts 2025
Imagine not being able to
Find aluminum foil at home
When you are recovering 
From being an addict. 
Can’t find it anywhere when you’re sober

For the next little while we’re going to be sharing pieces written in WFR workshop leader Willow O’Feral’s workshop at the Turning Point of Windham County in Brattleboro, VT. First up: Dee!

Do You Mind If I Ask?
With out fear
Always afraid to hear your answer
With out a tear in my eye
Getting punished because I didn’t hear
Never mind I’ll go without. 
Either way I’m not without 
Punishment

 
Secret Message to My Mom: 
Loving you was easy to do
With all my siblings not always easy
Your job was hard taking care of all of us
And putting my heart and soul in
To your trust
As a mother you raised us well
Sometimes hard to tell
My secret message to my mom
With loving arms to hold you near. 

 
What I Did First Was 
Pick up a drink, and was not 
Able to think, I stayed numb
All the time, and ended up 
With a box of wine
Staying numb was safe
For me to be able to see
What I did first 
I’m not proud of what I did first 
As it became such a 
Heavy curse. 
What I did first was stay drunk
Because I didn’t want to feel 
What emotions were in the trunk. 

The Difference It Made
Not knowing where I was going
Down this terrible path of destruction
Not a care in my world of not knowing
Where would I be without the 
Difference it made
Did it really help, not at the that time
Always never knowing what the 
Difference it made
Clean and sober today shows 
Me the difference it made Amen

Good Advice from the True Me
Use this time to listen as 
I share, what advice is needed
I don’t really have all the answers
But I can share good advice from 
the true me
Guidance is always needed \
Good advice is from the true me
If you need me I’m always there
To share good advice from me
Follow if you dare, because I care. 

What I Think About Thanksgiving
I try NOT to think about it because 
I’m not near family
Some days are happy
And some are not so happy.
I make the best of what I have and try to not to complain, and somehow it all 
Comes together two-fold
We never ate together as a family so
Those days are lost to me, as sad as it may be,
I still survive to be me with a better outlook on life
This is a gift to me 

How to Make an Amends
I’ve made many mistakes in my time
And never saying I’m sorry. Being drunk 
All the time I didn’t care what you thought
Of me, because I let it roll off my back
Today being sober I have made an amends to all those I have hurt and my 
Heart is now happy not to hurt again. 

An Inventory of My Face
So what are you looking at, please tell me,
You see a face that is old and wrinkled
Why do you insist on taking an inventory of
My face, do you not see where it has been and 
What I have been through
This face is/was cast of love and hate 
When does it begin to smile again

There Are People I Want to Be With
I have people I choose to hang with,
All my friends I have made through
My years, It took a long time to see who
Was truthful and in sobriety. I changed
People, places, and things and my heart
Sings with joy and a big smile from ear to ear,
These are people I choose to be with. 

I’ll Never Forget That Shirt
When you wore it with 
A plaid skirt
Flowers and ribbons adorn
To find a hole before being worn
I never forgot that shirt
Because to me it was Ugly

My Dream Job Would Be…
I enjoy working with the public, 
Cashiering, straightening out shelves, 
Returning goods to their proper place
Keeping my customers happy as they
Pass through my aisle
Unpacking boxes of books and pricing them
To put out in order
This was my dream job dealing with 
All kinds of people, which I enjoyed. 

What Scares Me The Most

I get uneasy with new people because I have trust issues. Being around my dad always scared me because of the abuse. I grew up with hatred in my heart, I guess you can tell I hated my dad, it wasn’t easy being a kid, because no matter what I did I was never approved of. I grew up faster than I wanted, not understanding why things were so bad. We never did things as a family. 

For A Moment I Felt Like Myself

When I was drinking and drugging I didn’t know who I have become, I started to drink when I was 11 years old and stayed numb. Drugs entered my life when I got older and was so comfortably numb. I don’t really know who I was, and sometimes I ask myself “Who are you?” Being sober has really helped me realize that I am somebody who is worth everything I have become. Did I really like me before? No. But today I love me for being free. I lived in an hourglass.

-How it happened-

I asked the right questions to the wrong people.

I listened to what others said.

I stopped being curious.

I stayed silent.

I couldn’t find the right people to talk to.

I helped others at the expense of myself.

I gave my everything to get what I thought was right, not listening to my gut.

I stayed like that for far too long.

I let go of my truth.

What They Told Me

Truth
At least as they saw it.
And really,
Who can argue
With facts, after all?
And yeah,
It cut pretty deep.
But I’ll be
Goddamned
If I let them see it.
It’s not something
I hadn’t told myself
Many and many a time,
But I could
Smile
And fake that
The thought wasn’t there
As long
As nobody
Verbalized it.
But now,
What they told me
Is in the daylight,
Echoing in my ears
And in my head.
And that echo
Rings true.

I Couldn’t’ Stop Thinking About It

What she said.
How it cut.
The betrayal.
The heartbreak.

The anger.
How dare she!
I sat
Simmering silently.

You want me
To care more
For yours
Than for mine.

Blood is blood.
He is mine.
Yours are not.
A simple choice.

Who’s still there?
Not you.
Who still cares?
I wish not me.

Blood is blood.
He is mine.
I’d make that choice
Every time.

Untitled

How come the one
Who is so skilled
At wounding me
Is the one
Living inside my head?
That treacherous traitor
Has the inside track
On exactly where
To cut
To cause
The most damage.
He is committed
To his job,
Works 24/7/365,
Even holidays.
That weasel
Does good work,
I must admit.
I just wish
The prick
Would take a break
Once in a while.

Untitled

Cut me if you want.
I’ve been cut before,
Intentional or not,
By my own hand or yours.
This is not unfamiliar territory.

Stone me if you must.
A rock against
My thick skull may
Actually do some good,
Knock some sense into me.

Harm me if you will.
If it is important
That you see me wounded
Then here I stand
To serve as your target.

Break me if you can.
Better have tried,
And, despite every
Scar, bruise, and wound
I am still here.

Untitled
I am no good at puzzles.
Even with
The picture before me,
I gawk
At the pile of pieces,
Their irregularly irregular
Shapes,
Begging to come together
Even after
All the effort,
By piece 999
I see that
One is inevitably lost.

Somewhere,
The piece I seek
Has simply
Fallen off the table,
But rather than scour
For it,
I simply close the box,
Convinced
Nowhere will I find
The jagged edges
That fit mine,
The one who’d
Bring me peace.

Untitled

She looks at the door
From her place on the floor
For someone who isn’t
Coming back any more.

She sighs out her nose
After sniffing his clothes,
Then heads to the spot on the floor
From which she rose.

She sees the food for her,
And turns away, her fur

Longing for the feel of those
Fingers, loving, familiar.

Sit there, squeak her toy,
She’ll ignore you, there’s no joy
Bubbling out from inside her,
She just waits for her boy.

She sighs through her nose,
Looking at the door.
That he’s gone, she doesn’t know,
Or that she’ll see him no more.

While I’m Here…

While I'm here,
I feel my feet firmly pressed against the wood floor,
A citrus aroma wafts in my space from the orange peel next to me.
The soothing music softly playing from the speaker soothes my soul,
I pour my heart out
from my chest through my hand,
Tightly gripping the pen
as if the tighter I hold it the more emotional release will occur.
The pen dances across my notebook,
Stumbling over letters and words.
A quiet mumble travels from the next room,
Tense muscles remind me of all that I carry,
Whether or not I own the baggage.
The present moment, a time for me, a time for my wellness, and
a time for my recovery.
Rustling of papers and squeaking of chairs remind me
I am not alone.
I am with fellow human beings,
all on their own paths,
But together we are one.

How Many Chances Does One Person Get…

How many chances does one person get?
How many breaths does one take in a day?
How many heartbeats occur in a lifetime?
How many ants shuffle below the surface?
How many birds sing songs of hope and peace?
How many plankton are floating in the sea?
How many bees pollinate our flowers and fruit?
How many leaves sway in the breeze providing shade?
How many snowflakes fall in a blizzard?
How many raindrops gather during floods?
How many grains of sand create the desert?
How many stars are in the galaxy?
How many mountains provide breathtaking views
regardless of one’s perspective – base or summit?
Does anyone know?
Who’s to say?
How many?

Something We Don’t Talk About…

Where to begin.
Some mysterious power has instructed us
what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate to talk about.
What’s appropriate,
Surface level small talk with such little substance and significance.
What’s not appropriate,
Any and all deep, meaningful matters and messages which normalize the messy
and painful and complex and beautiful and awe-inspiring human experience.
Religion. Politics. Socioeconomic Statuses. Gender. Sexual Orientation. Oppression. Exploitation. Colonialism. Genocide. Greed. Sex. Toxic Dynamics. Suicide. Addictions. Trauma. Death.
The list goes on and on and on..
Off limits.
Who has dictated which discussion points are off limits?\
What happens when we resist this notion?
Push back, speak up, and break the silence.

When This "Winter" is Finally Over...

As the darkness fades and the sun rises again
You'll hear the birds singing and the bees buzzing by
You'll feel a sense of energized peace and awakening
You'll smell the freshly thawed Earth full of blooming life
You'll see diverse beauty all around
Full of awe and gratitude
When this "winter" is finally over
Our differences will not be questioned or ridiculed
They will be celebrated and honored
Just as we celebrate and honor the blooming life around us
From crocuses to cottonwoods
From dandelions to daffodils
The snowdrops, tulips, lilacs, and peonies
All pleasing and providing in their own ways
Blooming with unique fragrances, colors, shapes, and sizes
Budding oaks, maples, and magnolias
Creeping creeks and softening soils
Coexistence and interconnectedness will be at the core
Spring will come as the world awakens with bleeding hearts

All It Takes Is...

All it takes is everything you've got
All your fight
All your light
All your might
All your tears
All your fears
All your gears
Recovery isn't easy but it's worth it
Instead of focusing on all it will take
Think about all you will make
Presence
Peace
Productivity
Power
Positivity
Promise
You will feel pain as you gain, for sure
All things that were once numbed will be fully felt
But don't run
Sit in it
As someone once said, you can't selectively numb
Escape the vicious cycle
Give it all you've got
Allow all your feels as you heal
Don't let doubt in
Recovery is real

Something We Don't Talk About

Must not say the name, 

much less divulge the crime. 

Out the way you came, 

forget you ever tried. 

Play your role in silence. 

Remember you are blind.

Rock Bottom’s Basement
there were so many moments
that it should’ve been
i wish i could say
it was on a random tuesday
and something inside of me - just clicked
but that’s not what happened
i only wish it had been
in the space that floats
just above rock bottom
that i had decided
enough was enough
without backing myself
into a corner – like i
seem to like to do
but no – that would’ve been
far too easy for me – because
for some reason – i seem to need
more of a challenge
the kind that only
rock bottom’s basement can provide
after landing so hard
that an imprint of my butt cheeks
is left in the concrete
and filled with the tears of sadness
from losing almost everything
that i worked so hard to get
and was left with nothing – but regret
that was the moment – that i finally quit

Here’s What You Do
breathe – deep and slow
verbalize your emotions
touch your hand to your chest
tell yourself - that you’re safe
look left – then right – then left again
notice something that you can see
something that you can smell
something you can feel
count up to ten – and then
back down to zero
visualize a time
when you were successful
know that you
are ready for this
stand tall – make a brave pose
and - wiggle your toes
calmly walk toward the door
brace yourself – if you need to
stand close to the edge – then
just let go
and if at first – you don’t succeed
maybe skydiving - is
just not your thing

When I was a kid…

When I was a kid they found me in the lost in found, 
Between the turnstiles of clothes in a department store
Clad in overalls so my mother could grab the makeshift handle of the back straps when I tried to run away

I was always running away in public to her chagrin 
Screaming in glee as she gave chase

Some of us enjoy the attention of not so subtle concern I guess

Not to be subtle but it’s hard to concentrate on childhood
Like a neighborhood I don’t remember so well 
Some place I used to live
The feelings live as memories and I mimic the playfulness
But something was taken over the years

Was it a cliche like innocence?
Was it safety being sexually assaulted?
Or was it esoteric?
Losing. Losing luster, the mystery of a world I knew like a book before the conflict arises:
Frodo in the shire
Sam strolling through hobbiton
My glorious open eight year old eyes hearing my father read me chapter books when I struggled with my letters
My words half formed in my claylike mind
Something rotten came out my mouth one day like vomit
When I remembered it all 
But then
Then something beautiful bloomed.

….

After all the work…

After all that work I was naked again
Like a school of fish being pulled out of water by a fishing boat
The class scribbled their pencils
I didn’t notice how fast my heart was racing until I did a pose where I placed my hand there

After all that work I was buying cigarettes with the hundred dollars they paid me for modeling 
The hypnotherapist said if I put my thumb to my forefinger I could feel the inner gnawing cease and unleash the good vibrations inside we had worked on
They lived like hermit crabs in tide pools
Under layers of shame, self loathing & pity 

After all that work I forgot how revealing child’s pose would be, kind of ironic when you think about it

One hundred dollars for two hours of what my partner calls something like exposure therapy unwilling to let me rile in tight angry loathing after the event

Was it commonplace to feel this way?
As if I were a strand of hair in food
Obtuse? overweight? Like an eyelash on an oncology patient drifting to the floor on a draft of heating vent exhaustion
I left feeling perplexed with feeling enough after the class for once
The following days I was sore
Stretched out and cold like the outside of an igloo
Utterly exhausted 
After all that work I ask myself
Did I feel safe?

Then I came home…

I walked for hours because my car was doubled parked in
And then I came home
Watching the sunlight peak through the blinders of day
Before heroin, before recovery, before daylight was a blessing and not a curse to remind me work was on the way 
If only I knew about meditating being useful before the 8balls with one suggestion one clue one rueful fluorescent act of Vulcan mind meld
“Hey bud you should get like way more of this shit”
More.
When I came home from the psych hospital for the first time I was 145 pounds and struggling to tell myself I was confident when I was alone driving down that same road I walked one night
More
Like oooo way ooo I feel just like buddy holly
Played in the Jetta on my old cds from high school
If I knew how to let it out I would have
Tears tearing through the deep maroon walls in my heart space stuck, constipated with effluent emotions like homesick longing and beatboxing curses and vitriol
I wanted more food when I got home
I wanted more family
Life was simple
The runs in the rain before cigarettes
The moving meditation as I called it
When I wasn’t running from anything but towards an unreachable destination…
And when I got home sweaty and drenched
My persistence was beautiful 

WFR Workshop leader Bianca Amira Zanella has been leading WFR workshops in Rutland at The Turning Point Recovery Center and Rutland Pride.

Here is some wonderful work by writers Kelly Kelsey and Susan Kersavage. Please read and share!

My Roots

by Kelly Kelsey

I’m from an island
small, connected to a dingy city
by an old wrought iron bridge
a bridge I snuck across
when I was but 6 or 7 years old
with my friend –
both of us knowing
we’d get whooped
if anyone found out
(which of course, they did)

I am from a line of
people who severed, and left their roots
some having come by boat
from England in the early beginnings
of our colonies
others came from Ireland
looking for a better life, which they didn’t readily find

I am from blue collar
and all too proud
beer drinkers and smokers
who filled rooms with blue haze
and anger

I come from an unplanned event
in the lives of the baseball hero
and the cheerleader, who had dreams
but they all were swept away
with the need to care for a newborn

I come from a family where
words of love were rarely spoken
but words and actions of anger and
sexual coarseness were heard and seen
regularly

I come from discontent
and broken dreams, anger, depression,
alcoholism and “mother's little helpers”,
but I am the phoenix
who will rise from their ashes

Colors of Creation

by Kelly Kelsey

Maybe; maybe there has been some
divine purpose to this madness I’ve
experienced, though some of it
just seems ugly and hard.

Maybe the long cords of suffering
weave in and out
warp and weft
creating intricate wall hangings:
red threads for pain
blue for all the sadness
orange for the inner flame of determination
oh thank God that flame was never fully extinguished
(though I attempted to snuff it out on my own
it’s the one that I am glad I failed at)
green thread for hope –
verdant curling forms holding the mystery
of all like
black for total despair and moments
of nothingness
white threads for tears
and turquoise for all the ancestors
and their

protection

maybe the ugliness isn’t so ugly,
when we look at
the whole creation

A Series of Not So Gentle Reminders

after Rudy Francisco

by Kelly Kelsey

Don’t forget to breathe
not just those rapid, shallow breaths
like a rabbit when its frightened
but slow, deep, full breaths like
a Buddhist monk on top of her cushion

Remember to never give
away your power
especially to those who desire to rule
over you,
demand allegiance, and offer none in
return

Don’t give your soul so quickly
for the price of an “I love you”
or the promise, often empty,
to never leave

It’s okay to say, “No”
if you are uncomfortable
you do not need to offer an explanation
Just say, “No” – guilt free

Celebrate the little wins
sometimes they mean more
than you know
and not just to you

Everyday is a gift
Receive it well

A Series of Gentle Reminders

after Rudy Francisco

by Susan Kersavage

Be Kind to yourself,
No really…
BE KIND TO YOURSELF!
You are deserving
of the compassion that you extend to others
You are trying
I see you
trying
Allow yourself to rest
and never feel guilty about resting
Listen to your body
Listen lovingly
and with compassion
Be gentle with yourself
Fill the cup of your
soul with joy,
allowing yourself to
find joy where you are
and to seek it out
Do not be stingy with joy
cultivate it
and share it
You deserve happiness

I remember

Too much

Every embarrassment

Every mistake

Every wrong turn

I desperately want to forget

Even if it means losing the good memories too

The overwhelming weight of

My long list of mistakes

Is too much to bear

I used to have a way to forget

At least temporarily

But that is no longer an option

All I can do now

Is wait for dementia

The good news is time moves faster the older you get