Week 16

Since enthusing about my trusty motorcar, it hasn't been very well.  Four RAC rescues, two garage visits, five alternator belts, a new alternator and a new water pump and as I am sat writing this, waiting for RAC visit no. five.  Not quite sure what all that says about the symbol of my recovery. There again, you can read too much into these things, or can you?
I enjoyed writing last week.  I'd done a couple of shares and felt reinvigorated by the shares I'd had back in return.  AA can be such an inspiring place to be.  Listening to people sharing their stuff with strangers; the stories of their darkest days followed by the reality of sobriety.  I never tire of hearing the miracles that have been created in sobriety, the loving human beings that have been formed from the monsters that we used to be.  The love and laughter, tears and sadness that bring us together creating connections and memories that will last for eternity.  The first share that I heard, the first share I was ready to connect to, the people who took me under their wing, gave me their time, supported me, listened but, most importantly of all, told me their story in an attempt to help me get, and then stay, sober.   The simple messages that come with the very first pioneers, that this programme only works if you work it.  Life can only give out what you put into it.  I can only become a writer if I write.  Yes, it sounds obvious.  Yes, it is simple and straightforward and so on and so forth.  But I am fearful.  Fearful not only of writing a load of tosh but also fearful of becoming  good at it (there was a quite good there but I forced myself to delete it).  That is what keeps me from these pages, that is what stops me from taking action.  Fear, pure and simple.  It can grind me to a standstill and, simultaneously, have me running to the hills.  And yes, I can do both of those things at the same time, I am only in recovery.  I only have today.  But, for this day I have taken action and I have written.  Because I really want to write.  I know that I may not overcome that fear but I may develop the courage to live with it and that really would be progress.

Week 15

Exercise 8 - write a paragraph from the point of view of an inanimate object.

See if you can guess what it is :)

She looks at me again.  I see her face, empty and sad.  Her eyes glance over me, briskly and sparingly.   I wonder what it is that stops her from looking at me properly; what it is that she doesn't want to see.  She has amazing blue eyes.  Sometimes they are the colour of the deepest ocean, sometimes the brightest summer sky and sometimes the darkest rain clouds.  I can see so much of her in her eyes and yet she refuses to look into them, as if she's scared of what she might see.  I wish she would try.  If she tried, I could show her everything that she's been looking for.  I want to show her, I want her to see.  I want her to know that her soul is waiting for her, that it is safe to look at.  She has a beautiful soul but it needs to be seen, to be seen by her so that she can share it.  An unseen soul cannot find its way out into the world.   I must wait; wait patiently for the day when she will come to me and she will look.