The Trail

It has been a while since I have written. I know in early recovery this could mean many things, including bad things. It could mean relapse. My husband, by the grace of God, is still sober. In mid October, he will be one year clean.  I have not written because we have been enjoying a …

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Bike Lights

My husband and I laughed today. We laughed at the absurdity and insanity of addiction. Sometimes in recovery you must laugh. Because if you don't, you may find yourself crying all the damn time.  In California my husband speed balled. He smoked dope and meth together to create a potent high. When he did this …

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  Sober Summer

Days Sober: 257 It is June 25, 2017. I am lying on the beach in Plum Island Massachusetts. My husband is next to me on the blue cotton quilt we have always used as a beach blanket. I look out to the jetty, it's gray and irregular rocks like long daggers, outstretched blades on either …

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Free Fall

My heart is free falling through space It feels light Airy Weightless Plummeting, spinning, somersaulting  Released from gravity's pull Like an inmate from her cell Free  Falling  I ponder how it will land I don't see bottom But I know that it's there Will it land with a thud  Will it be a crash  Or …

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A moment in recovery 

At my husband's Vivitrol shot this morning, the Physicians Assistant (who we love by the way) asked when he would decrease his nicotine levels for vaping. He told me in the car after: "I can't believe she is asking me about my nicotine levels, 7 months ago I was smoking a pack of cigarettes a …

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Epidemic 

We have a drug problem in this country. Crisis actually. It's so bad we have labeled it an epidemic. Overdose endings becoming more and more common.  Up on the hill, sitting pretty and safe atop golden thrones, they slash budgets, taxes, and vote on repeals. Making sure their own plans read EXEMPT.  Meanwhile. Down home. …

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Puddle 

It is raining here. I am not talking about the weather. I stepped in a puddle on the dry concrete-cracked sidewalk. Turns out that puddle is actually my heart. It just melted in the world's cruel sun. Now it's boot trampled and drip-drip-dripping into city street's schism. Gaping chest, I am soaked and I am …

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How do i tell you my husband is a dope fiend? 

How do i tell you my husband is a dope fiend?  Do I say it quietly or loudly? With a gentle caress or like a harsh stinging slap to the cheek?  How do i tell you my husband is a dope fiend?  Do I write it in a note with wet curving ink-pen strokes or …

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La Frontera

I am writing to you from la frontera, the borderlands.  I live in the desert. The vultures scream above me flapping wings, blizzard of feathers, revolting in the bleak sky. The dry heat envelops, wraps its arms around me, rocking and quieting me. Sunlight blinding. Atop white hot rocky formations, the heart is barren. I …

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Surface Lot

My husband is an addict.  Click, flame lights, tinfoil crackles, sharp inhale, lungs fill, smoke billows, brain floods, neck goes limp, pupils constrict. A man sits alone in a car in a concrete parking garage. The dome light inside of the car paints shadows across his face. Deepening the dark curved grooves beneath his eyes; …

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