Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Saving A Life

When women alcoholics are in recovery, the hardest thing about sober living is having sex without booze. I just thought you might like to know that.

Hemingway wrote with a glass of whiskey at his side: obviously he was not married to someone like me, or he would unaccountably keep finding his glass empty.

The other day, we whirled and twirled our way through a dance class until we hit a moment of hushed stillness. We had put our hearts in our dance, stretched them through our upraised hands into the clouds and let them go as prayers. There is a silence that comes over the soul after that. "One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began," said my heart, "though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice." No, not my heart, a woman reading Mary Oliver:

"But little by little,
as you left their voices behind...
... there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save."

By this time, tears were streaming down my face. I feel like the canary that has been living with a dark cover over its cage. I sing and sing and then realize no one can hear me because I am only singing in my head. My words are read by random visitors to my site (and a few regulars, God bless you!), but my book lies unpublished, my heart unseen.

The funny thing was, after all that emotion, the first thing that popped into my head was, "God, I need a stiff drink!" So quick to bury the very moments that make life meaningful because they are almost too hard to bear. Almost. I came home and wrote my blog.

Thank you for continuing to read me. Thank you for saving my life.

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