There is a fine line in the sandWalking a tightropeLearning to juggle one egg at a timeWalking on a frozen riverBeing aware of the delicate waterThe faded line on the beachIt sometimes can move from the waves washing ashoreI can forget where the line wasSlowly dipping...
I’ve had enough of foodAnd the way it makes me feelA necessary evil, at once requiredBut not enough to heal. A simple joy served upOne fist after anotherWould it be too much to ask…No, I shouldn’t even bother. The weight adds upThe pain compoundedJust a little more...
"Genuine grieving for our childhood ends our morbid fascination with the past and lets us return to the present, free to live as adults." - Big Red Book, page 83.My morbid fascination with my past perfectly describes the dissociative state I was in when I compulsively...
I am made of red brick, with a smoke patinafrom when I decide to belch smoke back into the housejust for fun. The girl in this house, she loves me.She loves to lay on the floor, watching the colors in the fire.Sometimes adding little wax color pots, she makes in egg...
This writing is from the point of view of the ex-husband, with the twist of some of the descriptions coming from what I have learned in recovery. It describes some of the thinking processes involved in this dysfunctional marriage and family. Handed down from...
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