The Grim Reapers Bicycle

    I saw a man talk to death today. I didn’t know if they parted company, or became stead fast friends. I saw a woman from her bike pass something to the medic, not overtly concerned at her rock still companion, his chest compressed, his temple bloodied. Perhaps her friends shock and awe, were distracting her from the situation. I noticed no breath. We do not breathe in conversation with the grim reaper.   I didn’t stop. I just stuck out an arm to signal possible assassins I was indeed going to overtake the fire truck directly in my path, where Death had just minutes previously, laughingly, shouldered his victim to the road so that they could talk. I don’t want to chat with death, he plays unfairly. So I pedalled on my way hoping he didn’t want me to join the party, aware that my flesh and bone… Continue reading

Drinking:  A Love Story – Healing/Conclusion By Jackie S.

  It is hard to come to the end of the book I am sharing with you.  I have grown attached to it, reading it each week with my friend and then giving you a taste of the story and of my own.  There are many themes that arose in this last chapter and I will try to touch on most of them.  As you read along, try to notice how often you begin to nod your head in recognition. The first theme is how different things look through sober eyes.  It could be something as simple as watching television at night and not only enjoying the show but remembering what was watched the next morning.  Going to sleep instead of passing out.  Waking up instead of coming to. It could be going out to dinner with a friend who is not sober and watching his or her behavior as… Continue reading


It seems like everyone has a story to tell.  My social media news feeds are littered with links to blogs describing stories of wedding planners gone mad, and kids’ crayons melted into car seats.  I guess you can say I’m hopping on that wagon, in more ways than one.  The only difference is, I’m sharing a less glamorous portrayal of life.  I don’t have kids, I’m not a cook, and I don’t have the end all cure for cellulite.  I’m writing for those of us who struggle with something a lot less cute than a crying two-year old.  I’m writing about my story of a relationship that is high maintenance, kicks you when you’re down, yet you can’t seem to leave it.  A relationship that goes by many names, and manifests itself in people of all shapes and sizes.  I’m writing this with the hopes of helping anyone out there,… Continue reading

“Otheration” – Attachment To What Others Think

Before I started drinking and using, before my mom’s drinking had become the huge issue it turned out to be, before I fell in love with addict after addict I was emotionally bound to others.  It is appropriate as a baby, as a child. We learn to smile by being smiled at, how to laugh by finding things funny, to cry with a sad face in front of us. We become social by socializing ourselves to the people and situations around us. But at some point we are intended to explore and become familiar with our own feelings, from the inside out. It took years in recovery for me to find that ability. Growing up I learned to give up at games so that others would not experience the pain of losing, to behave in impeccable ways so that no one would have to be angry with or critical of… Continue reading