On March 9th, members of our Montpelier and Middlebury groups shared their writing at Studio Place Arts in Barre.

Please explore these pieces below.

Many thanks to Sue Higby and SPA for hosting this event.

HOW IT ALL STARTED
by Maura Quinn
How it all started
Well
In the beginning there was the word
And the word was alcoholism
This word was so powerful
I didn’t want to go anywhere near it
Of course alcoholism was an
AFFLICTION
I saw a movie with Nick Nolte
And I’m pretty sure it was called
Affliction of Afflicted
Nick Nolte the one-time hunk
Later of the frumpy frazzled mug-shot
Fame or infamy
I liked Nick Nolte
Still do
I think he understands
What it is to be drawn so powerfully
As to make you powerless
Like swimming in Niagara Falls
Not going to happen
But I did feel like I was drowning
Not so much physically
Because despite the fact
I used to gulp my drinks
I could take a break
In between the first four shots
The first four shots that came in rapid fire succession
Before making myself a double to take to the couch
I kind of forgot where this began
Which is very much like
Every night when I was drinking
Oh but yeah here is how it all started
I drank too much
Too long
I stopped

Here’s How to Know When You Have a Problem
by Maura Quinn
Here’s how to know when you have a problem
Well, I thought I knew how you know but I can only share my experience
But ok
Here is how I knew and how you may now the experience
It keeps bobbing up
Like a buoy in the water
Only the bobber or buoy
Is in your head
Kind of like a smell that lingers
Or a noise you actively try not to notice
But you notice
Alcohol keeps bobbing up
The idea of it the need for it
And there is never enough
Even at the beginning
When the bottle is full
It still isn’t enough
Because you start to notice it disappearing
You try to imagine
Someone else is hogging it
So you start doing shots
And pouring stronger and stronger drinks
Till it is gone
And SOMEBODY ELSE MUST HAVE HAD MORE
But whatever
We need more
Just a beer
Even a beer
You’re going nuts
And you know it.
So that is how you know you have a problem
Oh and maybe your hands are shaking like mine did
Oh and anxiety and rage
But you not a violent person so it smashes around inside of your head till you think you might
blow
So you know if you are awake you need more
And of course there is
NEVER ENOUGH

The Text I Never Sent
by Maura Quinn
The text I never sent
The car I didn’t rent
The seat I didn’t save
Cremation or grave
Funny I think of that now
How did she do it?
I don’t think I want to know
Knowing that she isn’t breathing anymore
Is too much already
We didn’t send text then
We stopped making calls
Now I read your words
On a page you published
At first I smile
I hold your words
In my hands
Years ago
You held me in your arms
I am angry
I am sad
I was angry then
I was sad
Most of all I wish
No I don’t wish
Wishing goes nowhere
Which is where you are now
Before last week
You were somewhere
But now I know
You are gone
Turn back time
Great song
But ah
Too much
I’ll pull myself apart.

What Keeps Her Awake at Night
by Dawn
Tick, tick , tick....
the second hand on the old kitchen clock.....
tick, tick, tick
Where is he tonight?
It’s late,
tick, tick, tick....
the seconds continue
Funny how that sound goes unnoticed
until all you want to hear
is the sound of tires in the driveway....
Tick, tick, tick...
it’s now the next day,
after midnight,
is he alright?
Where is his phone??
He’s not returning texts or calls... 
Over time this mother has learned
not to leave too many messages as it fills the mailbox... 
Playing scenarios out in her head...
praying to hear the tires...
Eventually the prayed for sound is heard
and a sense of relief floods her body. 

When No One is Looking
by Dawn
When no one is looking
it is easy to dream and reflect,
to change the endings
to horrible events from the past.
To make the endings happy,
to end something just in time,
to have an ending that’s a mystery.... 
It’s easier to look in the mirror,
smile back at the reflection
and like yourself. 

Here’s Why I’m Not Giving Up
by Dawn
I’m not giving up
because I love you more
than words on paper can express.
I know that recovery is possible,
miracles happen every day!
You may crawl up the steps
to a meeting
and then lead someone up those stairs
at another time.
I can accept I can’t change you
or force you to change
but I can have hope.
My hope is you will make it
up those stairs to a better way of life. 

I Am From
by Lee Larson
I am from Frank and Muriel, a clever engineer and a hard working nurse.
I am from 1950's small town Holliston where I could ride my bike down back country roads
with no fear of strangers.

I am from camping in the Hulbert pastures, my friend Jo Jo and I, choosing a different tent each night to pitch at a new site on her family's farm while my dog, Lulu kept the bovines at bay, the sheep huddling on the other side of the fence.

I am from the great heights of the multiple arched stone train trestle, where one day while playing in the stream below with my friends, the Chartrand boys rained rocks on us from above. De De Pisapia caught a stone on her head, blood promptly and profusely running down her scalp and clothes as we hurried to my house. My efficient Nurse Mother Muriel put De-De to right, patching her head and cleaning her up. Mom's efforts were not enough however, to keep Mrs. Pisapia from fainting dead away when De-De and I walked through her door. Those Chartrand boys got off scott free.

I am from Dixieland Jazz playing in the night while my parents and neighbors danced on the cement terrace next to the old cemetery, lit by a string of colored Japanese lanterns, a flickering fire and a full moon. I watched, un-noticed from my perch in the apple tree, thrilling to the rising notes of a trumpet and worrying if Louis Armstrong would die from his recent heart attack. Such things happen. He didn't die just then and I finally got to see him in concert at the Bushnell in Hartford in 1968.

I am from that cement terrace which was formerly the floor of a chicken coop, my parents' great find as they set to clean up the yard of their first real home. My dad built a fireplace out of rescued bricks and we grilled steak, burgers, corn and marshmallows there on most summer evenings. I would creep quietly from my bed at sunrise, stealing up to the terrace for the charred, cold corn on the cob gracing the grate of the fireplace chimney. Often I would find that Honest Oz Holmberg, Pop's best friend and our neighbor across the field, had beat me to it. He always saved me an ear as this was our special time to talk of the critters and birds of Massachusetts. He was a trapper and ornithologist.

I am from a hole in the garage roof as I stood on a big wooden crate, waist, chest, shoulders, arms and head poking out over the lower courses of a new roof, hammer in hand. My dad would set a roofing shingle over the fresh tar paper and I would pound down the new nails he lightly set in place for me.

Mother Muriel, hollering up from ground level, “Frank, Are you crazy? What are you doing?” He was teaching me to be confident and self-sufficient, no-doubt.

HERE'S WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR
by Lee Larson
A 4' 5000K shop light. I will have to settle for
a case of 4000K lights at $4.99 each.
I guess this means that I am looking for the light.
A good light to light my way.
A way to see clearly.

Everything that I love to do seems to require good light.
Especially the notion of being enlightened.
Of understanding why things happen the way they do.

I started to get enlightened in Recovery.
I stepped out and away from my depression, from my desire to end it all as a way of stopping the
pain.
My friends in Recovery seemed to each have a torch to help me see what they see, what they
have found that helps them.

The more enlightened I became, the more I felt like embracing creativity:
Embracing a way to express myself, to make a statement of WHO I AM, WHAT I LOVE;
A way of being a better person in my relationships:
Say what you mean and mean what you say.

Recovery has given me steps, a path to follow and ears that seek to listen. I no longer need to try
to be deaf to what is happening around me.
I've seen the light that helps me surround myself with people seeking Recovery and have been
able to step back from those who would manipulate me.

A good, long 5000K bulb would help!

Hit Ignore
by Daniel Wyman
To family:
I hope you all know, I don't discriminate.
My consistent unresponsiveness is not directed
towards you or him or her.
You can wish me well and send your love,
and if you're lucky, you might get a "you too,"
but most likely you'll find days of silence
followed by some bullshit out of a remembrance card,
or even more likely, nothing at all.
My hope is you'll forget
and that someday you'll just stop.
That someday I'll have left your mind
so you can better place your love.

When You Know You Have a Problem
by Daniel Wyman
When you stop seeing daylight,
you might figure something's up.
When the lack of space left in your dog's bladder
is the only thing getting you out of bed,
that's just unkind.
And when you can't wait to go back to sleep after having done so for over 16 hours,
that's no longer living.
Avoiding hugs or kisses from the one you love
may be an early warning sign.
Your heart skipping a beat each time she opens a cabinet
because you don't remember where you hid the bottle
turns your home into a minefield.
Staying up just so she'll go to sleep,
so you can hug and kiss your vice,
only to wake up in a panic- terrified of what you've done.
Every Morning. That's a hint
When you look back and see that
you're not the protagonist,
but the bad guy in your own story;
when your own self-centeredness can't save you,
you might have a problem.

Relapse #1
By Daniel Wyman
I expected to feel shame and embarrassment
I told myself "tomorrow, you can have only one of two conversations"
I thought I'd regret missing out on that chip
I knew how disappointed my parents would be
I wasn't looking forward to that headache
I was setting the clock back
I was lonely
I was sad
I was angry.
Then
I was buoyant
I was social
I was a butterfly
I was becoming who I wanted to be
I wasn't second guessing myself
I knew exactly what was right for me.
I thought I was a fool for ever denying myself
I told myself "you can do anything".
I expected to feel the same way tomorrow.

Here’s How to Know How You Have a Problem
by Diane
If you are in college and still haven’t declared a major after your first year because you scheduled all of your classes around soap operas. You’ve got a problem. 

If you think you are a ballerina and dance to “Send in the Clowns,” by yourself, at the wedding reception of your boyfriend’s family. You’ve got a problem. 

If you pack your bag like you are going to Betty Ford’s but really end up in the county detox wearing paper shoes. You’ve got a problem. 

But if you see them, own them, and change them, then it’s no longer a problem. It’s now called growth.

I Found the Photograph Under the Seat of the Car
by Diane
I bought a new beater. It’s fifteen years old.

It needs work where the rest has eaten its armor away. 

My husband says “a little Bondo a little paint, we can make it what it ain’t.”

That’s the easy part

But inside, under the passenger seat I found a photograph of a woman.

She was standing proud, grinning in front of the car.

She looked happy and appeared to be someone that was on a mission or adventure.

She broke that car in,

She kicked ass with it.

She cried in it and laughed in it. She drove it like there was no tomorrow.

And now it’s mine,

I hope I can live up to her standards.

When No One Was Looking
by Diane
When no one was looking,
I knelt and prayed to a God that I did not trust.
When no one was looking, 
I peeked in my closet in my closet to see if Dracula was living there.
When no one was looking I pressed flowers into a bible I did not believe in. 
When no one was looking I beat myself so hard that I fell or the floor,
Filled with rage and despair that no one saw. 
When no one was looking, I was silently and gently lifted from my hopelessness
By a Power that has many names. 

I Am From
by Ann Wade
I am from
A world of mixed messages
I love you
Go away

I am from parents who were phonies
Everyone thought they loved each other deeply

I am from a deep gene pool of hard workers, sadness and pain
I am a product of my environment

I am just another white girl from the suburbs
From the 1 st planned model community
Park Forest, Il
Where everybody drank and smoked and said things that they didn’t mean

I am lucky to be alive
Driving drunk on back roads
In cornfields of Will county

I am now from the hills of Vermont
I made a big circle back to where I lived as a baby
And just starting to grow into the person
I was supposed to be
All along

Here’s How It All Started
by Ann Wade
Here’s how it all started
A woman at the pool gave me a phone number
I think she was tired of listening to me
“Call her “she told me
“She’s a life coach, and a really good one”

Then I had to answer pages of painful questions before she would see me
A friend let me stay in her house in Rockland for a long weekend
And that’s where the purge began

Flopping around the streets of Rockland Maine
Like an injured bird
With a broken wing
People were nice to me there
They didn’t seem to judge
More accepting than home
That’s how it all started
 
I wanted to get better
I wanted to change
I felt it after our very 1st session together
She told me that she could see me flying
And I am!

I thank Jenn and Adelaide to this day
But they refuse to take any credit
They say I did it myself
But I know that’s not the truth
I’ve had so much help along the way
My Higher power dropping me
Bread crumbs my whole life
Letting me hop along until I was ready to fly

My broken wing is still under construction
But the cast is off
I need to preen my feathers
Everyday.

What Matters Most
by Ann Wade
What matters most
Is that I’m here
Safe, sound and warm
So grateful for being in sound mind and body
My heart aches for people suffering with mental illness

The town has been whispering about a young woman who took her own life
I passed by the parked truck off Rt. 110 many times, and found it curious
More details, more questions
More, more, and then I think
There was a time not that long ago
When I too contemplated taking my own life
In order to relieve myself from the anguish of being a caretaker
and losing myself to alcohol, depression
and self-loathing.
 
Well,
What matters most now is
I have a new lease on life
I’m sober, happy and free
winning through surrender.

What matters most is
That I surround myself with a bubble of white light
To protect me from negativity and evil
Keep my eye on the prize
And move in a positive direction

This minute what matters most is that
I breathe

I Could Only Wait So Long
by Donna Moran
I could only wait so long. And I did not wake this morning with the notion that today would be
the day.

The pressure of making a mistake. The shame, far outweighed the pressure of doing nothing. Doing nothing was very costly. You are a victim, caught in the continuous unsteady cross fire, of yes, no, maybe!!  Ripped to shreds with your uncertainty. Left, with nothing but a saving grace.

I did not have to make a decision. My options ran out, and landed me in an exit off I-70, New Castle Indiana.

(I left the car to go to the restroom, walked out the back door of the rest-stop and ran into the cornfields. I just kept running. And no one came looking.)

I am walking through a freshly tilled corn field; damp, cool, reflecting the early morning sun, rows and rows, miles and miles.

I knelt and touched the blackened gold. I smelled it, and I touched it with my tongue. It was real.
It was real. And it was the first, real thing I had felt in three years.

So taken was I with the moment, I laid upon the bed of heaven. In the middle of the field, somewhere in Indiana. My lungs burst. FREEDOM! Freedom, with two dollars in my pocket, and my freedom. How rich am I. I am FREE!

Here Is Why It Is So Hard to Forgive
by Donna Moran
Innocence, once stolen, never, EVER can be returned to the child. The child may run for your arms, but the innocence has left. The mind has been altered. The mind, the body and the soul. The child, will occupy the balcony of the mind to all she will ever meet. All, who will never know the spiral staircase of going down. The endless volcanic eruption of more to stop the coming down.

Yet, speak to the child, and you will be unaware of the split. Her eyes will search yours for the truth. Truth means nothing, to a robbed child. There is no understanding why. Why, they do not even ask why. Remote control. The innocent child, no longer innocent. Not by design but the execution of a plan by, the predator. The predator, is not discreet: dad, grampa, nana, teacher. The sentence, of life in prison, is that of the child not the predator. And yet, one must forgive. One, must forgive those that took the life of innocence. YES. One, cannot let them take your garden. The weeds, once planted, forever will rob you, of your freedom. You, will become a slave. A wanderer, until you find an EXIT, maybe in Indiana

Go, lay in a field of freshly tilled soil, under a June Bride sky. Cry, and leave the poison, the hate, the shame. Plant your seeds of
Freedom.

Take FREEDOM.....Live

Sometimes It All Becomes Too Much
by Mollie Hoerres
You know it’s too much when
The band around your head
Presses in
You’re sure your brain will explode
And leak out of your ears
Popping the top of your skull
High into the air
This is when it seems
It has all become too much
Life pressing in on you
People talking at you
Everything moving fast
You can’t keep up the pace
The pace
Their pace
I couldn’t keep up
It had become too much
My head did explode
At least in the figurative sense
Too much racing
Too much running
Pretending, lying, hiding
Too much, much too much
The irony of it all is that
Once it all becomes too much
You can let go
You can ask for help
You can slow down
Stop racing
Stop running
Stop pretending, lying, hiding
Just stop
You can begin to breathe
Be carried by unknown hands
Trusting that
Though it sometimes is too much
It will change
You won’t actually explode or implode
If you can stop
Just for a second
And breathe

The Text I Never Sent
by Mollie Hoerres
I never sent the text
Couldn’t have sent the text
Texting didn’t exist
It would have been easier
To type in a few characters
String along a few words
Words that maybe
someone would understand

Click “send”
Swoosh
Away my words would go
What exactly
Would I have said?
Help me?
I’m lost, please find me?
Maybe I would have sent
An “I love you”
Or simply
Thank you
Words that, at the time
Were difficult to
Fall from my lips
Words that weren’t even able
to travel along synapses
Into my consciousness

You could say it was because
I was high back then
But, no
It wasn’t being high
That just made it easier to forget
And pretend
There was no “send button”
No way for me to speak
Think
Or even feel

Early in my life
“Mute” was pressed
On an internal remote
Changing batteries
Didn’t solve the problem
Drugs
Didn’t solve the problem
The mute button
Perpetually stuck
Regularly being pressed by those
Who hoped I wouldn’t hit “send”
Who hoped I wouldn’t find my words

I’m here to say
I am getting a new remote
And a phone that texts
Watch out

When This Winter Is Finally Over
by Mollie Hoerres
When this winter is finally over
I will put my hands into thawed earth
Feel the sun upon my back
I will dig
I will dig
Turning the soil
Smelling heaven on earth
Like life has been breathed back
Into my wintered body

When this winter is finally over

I will plant
Seed by seed
Carefully, tenderly
Placing them into their tiny holes
Where the sun will nurture them
Where the rain will hydrate them
Where the soil will nourish new growth to come

When this winter is finally over

I will bask in the earth’s glow
Relishing the warmth from the wind
As it gently blows through opened windows
That are tired from hanging
So tightly shut
The sweet smell of spring
Filling the kitchen as if
Fresh bread were in the oven

When this winter is finally over

I will watch my garden
Tend my weeds
Even if
Not perfectly.

Here Is Exactly How It Happened
by Kate
I called my aunt Roselyn in Arizona and asked if she had a number for my father. After not being able to talk to him for the past ten years. She told me she did not have a number but the last she knew he was in Georgia avoiding the police. She did have a number to a relative he was staying with in Georgia who I could call. So I tried that number and found it to be another almost dead end. My distant cousin told me that my father was arrested and brought back to Vermont. She said to try calling the jails here to try and contact him.So I did. One place said yes he was there but he had been transferred 6 months ago and now he was in the Windor County Work Prison. So I called there and they confirmed my father who I had been longing for since age eleven was at last found. I thanked the women and asked how to get in contact with him. I wrote him a letter in hopes he wanted to hear from me and that I would get a response. A few weeks later I got that return letter...

What the Ghost Said When She Whispered in My Ear
by Kate
I had recently moved into this 1800’s farmhouse that had been abandoned for the last seventeen
years. The dust was an inch thick. The furniture was all old antiques covered in cloth.  I thought this place is going to be beautiful it just needs some good elbow grease and a few upgrades.

I gathered a crew of friends and family. We started cleaning, painting and sanding the old pine
floors.

Soon it was move in ready. I'll never forget what one of my aunts who had helped me with the cleaning said. “Katie Girl how are you ever going to live in this big old house alone?” “Aren't
you scared it’s haunted?”

I turned to her and said what the ghost had said when she whispered in my ear last night.

“Thanks for bringing life back into these old rooms”

Here’s Why I'm Not Giving Up
by Kate
I’m twenty-nine years old
and have given thirteen of those twenty-nine years
to Drugs and Alcohol.
July 6th, 2016 I was given another chance
at this crazy thing we call life.
All the cards were stacked against me
three days in a coma from an overdose.
Doctors told my family and friends
I most likely wouldn't wake up…
Just like those EMTs who kept bagging air into my lungs.
Just like those EMTs that gave me chest compressions
the whole way to the hospital
until my heart started again.
Just like them…
I'm not giving up...
Every day I wake up sober
I’m thankful I still haven't given up…

To Be Completely Honest...
by Lucie Hobbs-Johnson
I feel damn good in recovery. I mean I feel rrrrrrrreeeeeeeaaaaaaaalllllllllll good in recovery. I reckon this that pank cloud I heard the elders talkin' 'bout in them meetings where everyone says they don't have another recovery in 'em, and that God be tha glory! Can't say I've ever wanted this damn sober livin' so bad in the past, but with my wife expectin' and all, figure it's now or neva. Can't remember the last time I kept $20 in ma pocket so long. Yup, this recovery is fittin' me just fine and I thank I'll stick 'round.

I keep searching
for what's at the heart of things.
Pecking away, Pulling on, Grabbing for.
I keep wanting
all that I don't have in front of me.
Looking for, Focused on, Longing for.
I keep needing
the missing-at- days-end part
Holding fast, Touching slow, Letting go.
Just so you know,
That is at the center of things.

I have a lot of ideas, a lot of really great ideas, but nobody cares about it anyway. They’re much too happy living in their fascist fabricated realities.  They call it Democracy, but we all know the truth about what it really is.

Me, I’m a fascist too, don’t you forget it.  The only way to get an entire misanthropic race on only one page is by having only one page to get on to.  I get it, I really do: fascism means death and destruction for the sorry few, rules and restrictions, and no more free thinking, either—well, that’s kinda the point, don’t you think?

Well, I suppose it’s all about putting the proper leader in charge—one who knows what the people need, one who’s oppose to corruption and greed, and one who is, plain and simple, me.  I’d be the ideal leader of the people, don’t you see? but nobody does care about it anyway; they’re much too happy, as I have said, living in a dream.

Me, I had a dream too; I dreamt of truth.  Or was that a nightmare I don’t know.  Either way, though, you should elect Jeremy Void as The government official, The supreme ruling force, The Highest Dictator of your entire free world.  First Order of Business: Kill everyone who stands against My Way of doing things...

It was almost dark before the rain began. Usually Roberto would sleep in his tent but not tonight. Big Red got mad when Roberto gulped the last of the Thunderbird and he made long cuts to the top of the tent. Now whenever Roberto sees Big Red on the street he looks for something hard or sharp in case he wants to talk about the Thunderbird again.

Roberto hurries to the Salvation Army. His friend Billy works there and even though he is a little late Billy will let him in.

It used to bother Roberto the way Billy forced him to say the Lord’s Prayer with the other men. But one night when Roberto was alone looking up at the stars through the rips in his tent the Lord’s Prayer rolled round and round in his head; Our Father, which art in heaven, hollowed be thy name;” and also the part about forgiving trespasses, well, it felt okay that night. Then he began to think of the men at the Salvation Army like a sort of primitive tribe gathered around a camp-fire, each of the men looking up at the faraway stars just like he was doing in the tent and together they’d be praying and hoping that their sad, hard lives might begin to change for the better. Hollowed be thy name, meant to Roberto that there was something so big and so strange that to name it would surely make it smaller than it was. And these men, and him, they were all a part of this gigantic swirling thing. Prayer was just a way to acknowledge the enormity of it all. After that night he began to pray with the other men and not feel bad about it.

Tonight, Roberto is grateful to be out of the rain. He’s not thinking of Big Red, and it invigorates him when Billy leads the prayer. Later he helps Billy clean up the kitchen, after that he plays some cards. Something about tonight feels like a big green pasture set before him. He begins to think maybe, maybe tomorrow morning he’ll go to the Early Risers AA meeting.

After a hot shower Roberto falls asleep. In his dream he is twelve or so, he was with his parents on a street corner but then they were gone. He wants to leave the corner and look for them but he’s afraid. He begins to float away, and he doesn’t want to go, he swims in the air trying to get back, but the wind is pulling him away. He wakes up and the room is crowded with sleeping men. He misses seeing the stars through the roof of his tent.

Recently, Bess and Gary traveled north to present a WFR workshop at the Kanetsatake Mohawk Territory in Oka Quebec. We were invited by Robin Sky of the Onen'tó:kon Healing Lodge, a recovery center on the reservation. The workshop was just wonderful, and we're pleased to share a couple pieces of writing from it.

Where I Am From
by Cecelia Kooktook

 I’m from Kuujjuaq, which is a town moved to another location. 

My grandparents had to adjust to a new life

which (gov’t) had torn their roots away.

It was a small town of 300-500 people. 

Everybody knew everybody.

We have now adjusted to a new century and new ways of living. 

There are new technology which we cannot catch up to.

And the new generation has no idea how we lived.

We have only stories and we try to keep them in mind.

I Am From
by
Richie Jacobs
Mohawk Territory Kahnawake QC  

I am from a troubled past by my own doings

I am from a past that I want to forget

I am from a strong family

I am from two beautiful human beings

I am from places that I want to go and explore

I am from a partnership that I worship and want to have forever,

I am from a relationship that has made me think and enjoy life

I am from a better place now with recovery.

Here's How It All Started

by Johnny

Onen’tó:kon Healing Lodge

I was 12 years old my friend

and I had stolen a bottle of rum.

It seemed fun

Because that’s all we saw as kids, 

People drinking alcohol.

After my first cup I couldn’t stand. 

Now I am here to get back up.

Johnny

When you start to see things in addiction
like your house is dirty, you’re dirty,
your bills aren't getting paid, you’re always feeling sick and anxious,
your true friends and family are practically non-existent.
You can't wear short sleeves because your arms are black and blue.
You’re losing so much weight because you are not eating.
Your only friends are liars, thieves, and drug addicts.
Your teeth are falling out because you forgot how to use a toothbrush.
To me it's blatantly laid in front of you,
but the only way to recover is
to recognize these things
and want to make a serious change to your life.

1. The things you used to enjoy become unimportant or won’t be done at all. 
2. Your appearance will suffer. 
3. Your old friends may not want to be seen with you.
4. You may not be invited to family gatherings. 
5. You may not have a job. 
6. Your bank account will be zero or in the negative. 
7. You will not make eye contact with yourself when you look in the mirror.

The order and severity of these items may change but the problem will still be the problem until it’s addressed and then you may regain what you have lost.

I have been misled
I have been cheated
I don’t’ want to break things
But I do
I can’t drink I don’t really want to drink
But I do want to temporarily alter my reality
I don’t want to consume sugar because it will not help me
I know I need to just be in action and do something positive
But I don’t want to
I don’t want to leave this bed
I don’t want to do the
Right thing
But
I don’t want to do
The wrong thing
I want to break things
But I don’t want to because that won’t do anything
I don’t want to call anyone because I don’t’ want to hear
What they have to say.
I don’t want to hear it
Know that you’re full of shit
I don’t want to hear it
Know that you’re full of shit
First you’re telling stories
Then you’re telling lies
When the fuck are you gonna
Realize that I don’t
Want to hear it
Oh that felt better

(With credit to Minor Threat)

You may call me crazy,
but when this winter is finally over,
I will only miss it.

After years spent languishing
on the West Coast,
enduring its endless summers,
I dreamt of seasons and change.

The leaves didn't change out there,
stubbornly insisting on their monochromatic green.
Nothing fell from the sky except sunlight,
as if the clouds had lost their imagination.
And the air felt always the same-
frozen in heat.

So yes,
I missed the snow, the cold, the leaves...
Hell, I even missed the mud.

I’m not giving up because I am still very young. I have a lot of potential and I’m a great human being. My friends and family love, trust, and respect me and therefore keep me going. I was told before, life’s a gamble.  Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The point is not to let any one thing conquer you—you conquer it. And I still have so much to learn and live for so therefore that’s why I keep going every day and struggle with whatever the struggle is with. That’s just why I’m not giving up!

I am from loud,
I am from hard work, smacks upon my mouth,
I am from late night homework,
lonely, alone but also driven.
I am from early mornings and middle of the night screams,
nothing beautiful, and far from serene.
I am from bumps, bruises and whiskey blues.
I am from birthdays without a soul, 
family always working or on the go.
I am from the fantasies within a girl’s room, 
troubles stay in her head and never released,
for if she ever spoke
she could only imagine what they would do. 
I am from silence never free to speak,
scared of my "family", who holds my whole heart.
The things that were kept behind closed doors;
I knew if I spoke then we would for sure
be pulled apart.
I am from a deep love for my mother,
although I never got the same compassion from her.
A question so deep with answers that scarred my soul;
Why is she white? Where is she from?
The answers she gave,
I would have rather heard none.
I am from FEAR!

Activist Ryan Hampton and the Voices Project by Gina Tron

Six months into his own recovery, Ryan Hampton was still in a “place of shame,” as he told Writers for Recovery. Even worse, he said that within a six-week span, he lost four close friends to overdoses.

“People were telling me that that’s what happens when you get into recovery. People will start dying. You will go to a lot of funerals. I get that but that doesn’t make it okay. I was feeling this huge sense of social injustice and outrage.”

Ryan began researching. He said it began with a journey of self-exploration.

“I wanted originally to see what was out there,” he said. “I wanted to see what other communities were doing to support recovery. I wanted to see what was going on in the criminal justice system. I wanted to see what was going on what was going on with prevention, ER rooms and with Narcan.”

In 2015, he embarked on a trip with a friend to 22 states, to visit communities hit hardest by the crisis. They visited recovery centers, jails, parents of addicts and community members. “When I got back from the trip, I decided that those were the stories that needed to be told,” he said. “The media focuses so much on the problem and not enough on solutions.”That was the start of the Voices Project.

“I decided it was going to be a platform for others rather than me. It’s to aggregate as many voices as possible to create one unified voice to push for solutions. It’s storytelling for a purpose and it’s storytelling for an impact. We’ve been able to use that platform to erase shame and stigma but also to push people in the right direction when it comes to critical decisions about addiction and recovery.”

Ryan said that through his research and project that there needs to be more of a focus on recovery support.

“We all know that  we need effective prevention and treatment and that the treatment model needs to be updated,” he said. “We know how to handle addiction in the acute crisis phase, intervention, detox, those 28 days. Where my friends have died is after they get out of treatment. Are we supporting their recovery? What does that look like?

“For me, we need continuative care. We need access to recovery houses. Access to employment. Be reintegrated back into society. The traditional personal recovery stuff is great but on top of that we need to provide resources and support to help people become the best
people that they can be.”

Ryan said that data shows that people are most vulnerable to recurrence of use in their first year of recovery.

“After five years, the risk of recurrence or relapse drops below 15% and that is per the US Surgeon General in 2016,” Ryan said. “So, my whole thing is why aren’t we supporting people for those full first five years? We should be getting people to that five-year mark.”

Finally I understood the truth: that family doesn't have to be blood, someone you knew only for a few months could care more for your well being than someone you've spent everyday of your life with. Who are you? Whose are you? Why are you here? From a split up family, always being pulled back and forth from Mommy to Daddy. Forgetting my identity and being morphed into just another add-on to my mother’s marriage. Pretending to be a trophy child for a man that did not see me as a daughter or his own, just a piece of baggage from my mother's previous life.

Warmth, Love, Smiles, Hugs, Compassion, Understanding

It took me to hit rock bottom that I found my family. Beaten, broken, and defeated, I walked into the four walls of the Journey to Recovery Community Center and I found my home. Embraced by the faces of people who just wanted to see me succeed, who knew nothing about me except my desire to change. We are not perfect, but this is home and this is my family. I found it all by myself. I found the truth of love and acceptance. I found it; I’m home.

I guess I'll talk about compulsive overeating.
Most people don't understand
That it is a real disease,
Not something to laugh off.
Most people don't understand
That the cravings are horrendous,
The stories are real.
Most people don't understand
The severity of the bingeing, the purging, the starving.
It's a disease that shows no mercy.
Most people don't understand
That compulsive overeating is as lethal
as drug or alcohol addiction.
Most people don't understand
That food is not only for nurturing our bodies,
But it can also destroy our bodies.
Most people don't understand
Why I want to go to recovery meetings
Every day, if I can.
Sometimes I don't understand it all either,
But boy, am I a grateful recovering compulsive overeater....one
day at a time!

He was a shaggy dog sort of fellow,
Unassuming and approachable;
Genuinely kind, curious and playful.
But there was more than just a shaggy surface.
There were levels of depth and care
Built on life’s sometimes
Deafening carelessness.
Yet he stands ready for life,
Curious and eager to see what it holds.
Caring, and carrying a depth of empathy
Born of experience,
Ready to share sorrows and joy
As they are revealed.
Thrilled to be alive.

Django Koenig by Gina Tron

Django Koenig has been practicing sobriety since January 2015.  Before that, he was enjoying the party life while working as a musician.

“Playing music for me and drinking and smoking cigarettes and doing cocaine was a really good combination,” the Plainfield-born musician said, adding that he also dabbled in psychedelics.  Although he didn’t say he was addicted to any particular substance, he said that he did have a problem with being intoxicated.

“I did have an addiction to the sensations that would come [with the substances,” he said, adding that it wasn’t an option for him to go out and not consume alcohol or drugs. “I wasn’t waking up with a bottle next to me. I have drunk in the morning for sure but I didn’t have a bottle under the car. But I would say I had a problem.”

His substance abuse issues began affecting his relationships and that’s when Django decided to quit everything -- from alcohol to cocaine to cigarettes -- cold turkey.

“I stopped everything all at once.”

It wasn’t easy. Django, now 30, had been a heavy drinker since the age of 16 and a regular cigarette smoker for over five years. He moved back to his mother’s home when he decided to cut all vices and that proved to be helpful.

“There’s a big difference in a house where someone drinks and a house where someone doesn’t.”

It was also winter 2015, when we endured weeks on end of subzero weather in Vermont. It was perfect for hiding out and working on a project.

“I had songs I wanted to record. So, I started working on this album.”

Now, not only is Django sober but he’s able to perform songs from that album, created during that bitterly cold winter, in bars across Vermont without feeling any temptation.

“I really enjoy sobriety, not drinking, not doing drugs,” he said, adding that his quality of life had improved seven-fold. “And I still have fun. I'm still my fun-loving weird self.”

His music aims to promote overall well-being, but never preachiness.

“I’m not trying to convince anyone else to change their ways,” he said.

On January 11, 2018, our writers at Northern State Correctional in Newport, VT, gave a reading from their work. Since you couldn't be there, we are sharing the work with you. It's honest, courageous, beautiful writing, and it even has a sense of humor. Please read and share.

Finally, I Understood the Truth

I finally understood the truth

When I checked into Maple Leaf Farm.

I was gathered with

Many suffering alcoholics and drug addicts

Just like myself.

I finally understood

That I was not any better

And in fact, I may be worse than some.

I sat around meeting to meeting

Not sharing my own personal

Struggle with addiction,

And just listened and tried to

Compare myself.

Even though I knew I shouldn’t

Or shouldn’t have,

I’ve always looked down on people

Who I thought or believed

Were less than I was.

Now I’ve taken some time

In my sobriety

To actually listen and compare

Myself to others.

Finally, I understood the truth.

If I Were in Charge

If I were in charge of inmates

I would be more lenient

for such reasons of knowing that we are all people

and we make mistakes! 

It’s human nature,

and an officer may have done the same things

as an inmate,

they just have not been caught. 

I would work to see that an inmate was properly treated

physically, mentally, and medically,

I would also help them with any lack of communication

between one’s caseworker and/or family. 

Many of us have worthless caseworkers

and due to lack of or miscommunication

things are neglected or never done. 

I’d also like to see a better re-entry program

for people that are being released

that have addiction or pain issues

that are getting released with no prior planning or set-ups

such as medical assisted treatment

or whatever it is they may need

to successfully make it out there. 

That’s just a few things I’d do if I were in charge.

The Toughest Decision I've Ever Made

Well I have to say
the toughest decision I've ever made
was me coming clean to my family and friends
about me being 1) gay and 2) a transgender female.
I feared discrimination, disrespect, and lots of criticism.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy for me
at school or public places
and I feared about what
my home life would consist of as well.
I chose to go to my guidance counselor at the time
and over time slowly explained myself,
for her to tell me everyone deserves
to be loved the same no matter
who or what they were
and some people can stay in your heart
but not in your life
and if they were not willing to understand
and take you for who you were
they didn’t deserve to have you in their life.
So that was the toughest decision I ever made.

A Morning When I’m Using

...Well, I don’t use to the degree that some people do, perhaps—

but after a hard weekend of drinking

I have woken up some mornings

and noticed that I could brush my teeth

just by putting toothpaste on the bristles,

stick the toothbrush into my mouth,

stand there and let the morning shakes do the work.

Invariably, by Tuesday the shakes would be gone

and I’d be looking forward to my next hard weekend!

A Morning Clean and Sober

Refreshing, exhilarating, healthy, happy,

energetic, guilt-free, motivated,

more money in my pocket,

I know where my wallet is,

and my teeth;

the air smells fresher, cleaner

and the bacon, eggs, and toast

make my stomach happy too;

the kitchen is clean,

there are no beer and whisky bottles

on the table, floor, couch,

no cigarette burns on the table

and the ash trays aren’t overflowing. 

I feel a sense of self-control. 

I’m ready to go to work. 

I don’t stink of alcohol

I’m clean and sober.

When Winter Is Finally Over

 When is winter finally over? 

When I damn well want it to be! 

I friggin’ hop in my brain plane and go to

Florida, the Bahamas, or Spain

where the rain falls mainly on the plain. 

Winter is finally over when Robin,

my favorite bird,

perches on my windowsill and chirps at me! 

I give her some breakfast, bacon and eggs,

with a cup of coffee,

and we both sit and enjoy the warm spring morning. 

I watch her and she watches her husband

building a house in a nearby tree. 

I go out on the wet sidewalk

and gather fresh worms

from last night’s rainy evening. 

The road smells like kerosene

and has pretty purple and blue colors.

When winter is finally over.

Morning in Prison

Every morning I wake up in prison it’s the opposite of being adjusted. 

I never want to wake up in this kind of a different world. 

I never knew what it was like in the morning in prison

but I open my eyes up anyway. 

I know soon I will open my eyes up one morning

and it will be daylight for sure. 

And that will be a morning not to forget. 

This place is like the morning after. 

It’s just in my head and won’t go away until the daylight shows again.

The Toughest Decision I Ever Made

 The toughest decision I ever made

was to give up on my wife and her addiction to alcohol. 

I had tried so hard

and loved her for so long. 

The question was in front of me

all the way through,

dealing with the lies, cheating, having wrecks after wrecks. 

She even wrecked in our driveway on my plow truck. 

She blamed me for everything that went wrong. 

I thought something was wrong with me,

but all the time my love for her was blinded by her drinking. 

She didn’t want to give up drink

and I didn’t want to give up on love. 

It was the toughest decision I ever made.

When the Rain Fell, It Brought Back Memories

 When I hear the rain falling on my roof I sit there

and enjoy the sound of it hitting the roof. 

I sit and think of the past

and what it meant to have

a past of the rain cleansing the world. 

The rain as it was falling on the roof

was so peaceful that it brought memories

of when I had trouble sleeping,

but the rain would be there as a medication,

a good way to get to sleep.

I Am

I am a kind, loving person.

I wonder what my would be like if

I was never in trouble.

I hear the wind blowing through the trees,

I see a bright, colorful life in the future.

I want to have a rich life.

I am a kind, loving person.

I pretend I am free.

I feel the wind blowing through my hair.

I touch the sweet life of freedom.

I worry I will be alone for all time.

I cry being locked up in jail.

I pretend I am free.

I understand why I am here.

I say I did it and I am sorry.

I dream of going fast as I can down dragstrip.

I try to deal with what I have done.

I hope I still have loved ones.

I understand why I am here.

Pain

Pain comes from

Anything and everything

From love to tooth.

But there is one thing

That is

Pain lets you know

You’re alive.

I Will Never Forget That Christmas

It was the night before Christmas.

My mother and father were yelling,

I couldn’t sleep, so I tossed and turned.

I heard my door open and I closed my eyes.

She was crying and upset.

I heard my father’s truck start and spin the tires.

She left the room and I heard my door shut.

After I understood why my mom was crying

I hoped it was not true.

My father left us that first Christmas

Of my life

That is why Christmas is just another day.

The Christmas I’ll never forget.

Where I Come From

 Where I come from. 

Life was...well, life was something else, I tell you. 

I did not know what the hell was right

or what was wrong. 

There was fighting. 

My mom was always drunk. 

My first memories were of my own mother

being passed out. 

My dad would be out in the garage

building hot rods with his friends,

smoking pot. 

So honestly I don’t know where to say I am from. 

If I was to guess I’m probably from space. 

Outer space.

To Hell with You!

You are my demise.

You are why I’m in jail.

You are why I’m alone.

You are why my kids don’t speak.

You are why I weep.

You are why I want to kill.

You pretend you are my friend.

You pretend you are my lover.

You pretend that I matter.

You pretend I am boss.

You pretend things will be ok.

You pretend to pretend.

You understand I’m fragile.

You understand I’m lonely.

You understand I’m here.

You understand I understand.

Well guess what, understand this:

I am sober, I am alive.

I Will Never Forget that Christmas

I will never forget that Christmas

on the farm when I was 10 years old. 

That winter was brutal for our whole family. 

The tractor breaking down,

our highest producing cow contracting barn ware,

the water in the barn freezing up,

pipes cracking,

splitting,

what a mess. 

My grandparents came up in a storm,

my grandmother helped my mom in the house. 

My grandfather came out to the barn

to help Dad and I thaw out water pipes. 

Then Dad worked on the milk pump

to get it going so we could get back to milking. 

The whole family banding together

to make Christmas happen.

What My Addiction Couldn’t Take Away

It couldn’t take away

the love, caring, kindness, and closeness

between my son Kyler and I. 

No matter what, I always put my son

in front of all that, even his mother. 

Kyler and I have a bond nothing can change,

not alcohol or drugs. 

With Dena giving up on drugs herself,

I feel as if her and I can win against this addiction we both have. 

Our addictions can’t take away our love for each other. 

It’s nice knowing I can be on the winning side of something

rather than my addiction having the upper hand.

What Scares Me the Most

What scares me the most

is that once I’m released in 3,4,5 years,

I won’t be able to stay within my regimen of staying clean and sober,

something I’ve had trouble doing many times in the past. 

Will it be easier? 

Will it be harder? 

Can I respond and attend an AA/NA meeting? 

Can I swallow pride and call my sponsor? 

Can I still count on my Higher Power? 

Can I rely on my wife, my family, my friends? 

Hopefully with all this said,

the answers will be yes. 

But the one I should always be able to count on is me! 

I say there is still hope!

Dear Addiction,
I'm writing to tell you that I no longer need you. You lied to me.
You sure did make me feel good,
for a little while.
But chasing you and waking up looking for you every day,
just to get to work or get out of bed.
Then in a couple hours, chasing you again,
And again, hoping you'd stick around for longer this time.
I was out needing you more for a little pill this time.
I lost everything because of you, most of all my two little girls.
I went through withdrawals and vomiting, can't believe how you made me feel sick.
I nearly died for you.
I wish in the beginning, you would have told me the truth.
That chasing you is never ending.
I lost it all thanks to you.
I'm better now. You no longer control me.
You’re in my ear, and … I HEAR you.
You know my debit card number,
But no more...
I'm done with you...

I AM FROM LOCKED ROOMS, CUT ARMS, BROKEN TEETH, TREE CHAINS AND SCOLDING PARENTS....LONE BOATING UNCHARTERED WATERS WITH OUT OF PLACE SCENARIOS AND HALF BLIND FACE ATTACHMENTS. I AM THE BROWN BOMBER AND BUD FOR MY 3 LEGGED CANINE. WHISKEY DOOR TEENAGE PATH TAKEN WITH CAR CRASHES TO LEARN AFTER YEARS OF SUFFERING AND PAIN THEN TO RECOVER AT 50 YEARS OF EXISTENCE....ONLY ONE THING CHANGED....WAS EVERYTHING.... OF ONE DIRECTIVE...MORE LEARNING...LESS KNOWING AS CONTINUOuS METAMORPHOSIS INCURRED..... FORGIVENESS CRUCIAL ....AMENDS PROFOUND....ALL IS REBORN FROM WITHIN WITH GRATITUDE AS SELF SEEKING BECOMES SELF FORGETTING AS MORE SHALL BE REVEALED.... FOR IT STARTED AS THE WALLS WERE CLOSING IN FAST....I WAS LIVING FAST....SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE ....OR I WAS DONE...WOULD LIVING BE NONE? WINTER WAS COMING AND HAD PLANS TO LIVE UNDER THE SAGAMORE BRIDGE... FORAGING AND EATING SEAWEED IN HINDSIGHT... ONE CRAZY DEED! INTERVENTION DID FOLLOW....WAS HARD FIRST TO SWALLOW AS THIS BEACH NUT NOW HOLLOW...BECAME BEECH HILL HALL WALLOW! SURRENDER WAS READY FOR ME TO BE STEADY.... AS OZZIE ONCE SAID.... AS I THOUGHT IN MY HEAD "FOR DYING IS EASY IT'S LIVING THAT'S HARD"... AS TIME UPON TIME I NEEDED A GUARD. WARPED THINKING UNRAVEL...HAD NEW PATHS TO TRAVEL....SLOWLY I TRANSPORTED THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS FROM HENCE I HAD STARTED UN STARTLED.....BEING READY TO BEING.... THE NON DEPARTED.... I DON'T KNOW WHEN THE WAVE RIDE WILL END BUT HAVE TWO FEET ON THE BOARD.... IN LIFE'S JOURNEY WHICH SHALL BE MUCH SOARED. TIME WILL REVEAL ...WHAT MYSTERIES DEAL....FOR IF YOU NEED HELP HERE'S WHAT I OFFER....FOR WHEN I DRANK BOOZE BECAME QUITE THE SCOFFER! .... I OFFER MY EXPERIENCE, STRENGTH AND HOPE... BEEN TOLD ALL THE TIME NOT TO SAY "NOPE!" HAVE BEEN WHERE YOU ARE....SOMETIMES NEAR....SOMETIMES FAR...MOST TIMES OF ALL ....IT WAS SUB PAR.....HAVE BEEN ON TRIPS OF SENSELESS DOINGS....AS LEARNING CURVES WERE MENTAL STEWINGS ...DIDN'T THINK WAS A LIFE.. ..VOID OF ALL STRIFE.....YOU CAN SHOW ME NOT TELL ME OF HOW LIFE MAY BE...ACTION WITH TRACTION I'M GLAD TO FORSEE ....FOR LEADS ON THE WAY OF HOW TO BE FREE!... FOR TO TALKING WILL LISTEN.....JUDGE ME NOT... WILL REBEL....FOR DEFIANCE METHINKS LEADS STRAIGHT ON TO HELL.....I DON'T KNOW IT ALL AS USED TO BE A KNOW IT ALL... FOR RESPECT IS WHAT ARETHA SAYS...IS ALL I WANT FOR FUTURE DAYS....THE NOISES IN MY HEAD WERE NOTHING MORE THAN FALSEHOOD DREAD.....WAS TOLD TO LOOK AT WORDS..... REMINDING ME OF ENGLISH NERDS.....BE SILENT AND LISTEN...FOR NOISE ON THE BORDER....SAME LETTERS HERE, IN DIFFERENT ORDER....LEARN TO LISTEN AND LISTEN TO LEARN...IS WHAT I FEEL STRONGLY FOR MAJOR
CONCERN....FOR NOW THAT IS SAID AND IT'S TIME TO BE STERN...BY WRITING A LETTER TO BEFORE I ADJOURN.....DEAREST ADDICTION; I HOPE YOU NOT WELL....FOR THE PRESENCE OF YOU BROUGHT ME STRAIGHT ON TO HELL...YOU ARE POISEN TO ME....CANNOT BE NEAR TOXICITY....I ONCE WAS WELL ... A HYPNOTIC SPELL... THOUGHT YOU WERE MY FRIEND.... BUT YOU WERE MY FIEND.... MAKING FUN OF LOGIC.... RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD... I AM GLAD THAT YOU ARE GONE AND HOPE WE NEVER MEET... FOR RIDDING YOU FOREVER IS ONE FANTASTIC FEAT! MAY YOU DISAPPEAR FOREVER FROM ME AND FROM US ALL...FOR TO HEAR OF YOUR MISGIVINGS IS SOMETHING TO APALL! BE GONE! BE GONE! I HEREBY DO DECLARE....FOR IF YOU EVER SHOW YOUR FACE AGAIN ....I URGE YOU TO BEWARE! I HAVE SAID ENOUGH TO YOU AND HOPE YOU GET THE POINT...YOU MUST NEVER COME AROUND AGAIN AND PUT ME OUT OF JOINT!

SINCERELY YOURS,
LADD B.

P.S. I HAVE RECOVERED ... HEALTH ... DIGNITY ... SANITY .... UNDERSTANDING ... COMPASSION ... MINDFULNESS ... JUST A FEW THINGS ON THE TIP OF THE RECOVERY ICEBERG....I HAVE FOUND EMPATHY FOR THOSE IN THE THROES....OF ADDICTION. IN MY RECOVERY JOURNEY HAVE HAVE FOUND PASSION FOR LIVING..... GROWING OLDER IS A GIFT...RECOVERY IS POWERFUL TO ME....A NEW BEGINNING...A SECOND CHANCE AT LIVING A MEANINGFUL AND REAL LIFE WITHOUT DISTORTION .... CRANIAL DOINGS WITHOUT CONTORTION .... BE IN THE NOW... FOR NOW I DO SEE... A CLEAR BRIGHT LIT PATH.. TO REALITY! MORE TRAVELS TO GO....BEFORE I GO...IT'S THE WAY I'VE HEARD... ALL TO BE SO! THAT'S ALL FOLKS!

It is hard for me to stand in the doorway of my past
And to close the door.
To push it slightly, with both hands
The white paint through the absence of my fingers
To feel the woods resistance
The creak of the hinges.
To glance decisively at what stays behind
To look at it without the flush of heat invading my face,
The empty of my yearning for a light there.
To grab the handle
To turn the knob
And to finally, find the key.