Category Archives: Addiction

WATCHING MY CHILDREN

 

WATCHING MY CHILDREN
(edited from yesterday)

Watching my children loving their children and their children’s children almost encourages me to stop beating myself for  all my meanness when drinking during The Fifties & Sixties..

But wait…there’s more…

Whenever there is a video from my son and his grandkids, I recognize his words; as he talks to the shorties; Billy Bob is copying his Papa.

 

THE OREO ATTACK

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My method of controlling my addiction to sugar focuses primarily on the embossed, round  chocolate sandwich with the sweet white filling.

The Oreo attack seldom occurs at Circle K because I rarely go there.

I rarely go there because I know I’ll have an Oreo attack.

This beastly side of my nature makes itself known most often at Fry’s or Safeway (owned by Albertson’s which is owned in turn by Cerberus Capital Management which is named after the three-headed dog of Hades.)

My response is nearly always the same.

I buy the large family size Oreo package for five bucks and try to get home with my prize before opening.  If I raid the bag of goodies on the bus-ride home I risk the danger of incurring the wrath of a diabetic driver  angrily spouting the no-eating-on-the-bus rule and who weighs at least three hundred pound and may kill me for my Oreos if I fail to  obey.

On my arrival at the Lee Broom Kitchen I quickly count out five Oreos and open the Oreo hole on the garbage disposal which I call The Cookie Monster, abruptly  grabbing another five Oreos, then dumping the rest of the package.

I then open the faucet and flick the Oreo destruction switch and listen to the gurgling “thank you” from The Cookie Monster’s throat as the bulk of my prize flows into the kitchen’s intestines.

If you are wondering why I call this apparatus installed in my sink the Cookie Monster, nothing else has ever gone down that drain; I am a great vegan cook who eats every morsel of his five meals a day and who usually manages quite well, thank you, with one teaspoon of brown sugar on his morning oatmeal.

If you read about my Valentine cookies on Facebook four days ago, that particular day ended with an Oreo attack.

When I arrived at Circle K that evening the clerk greeted me with a smile. If you need your Oreos I keep a package for you here at the counter. How many bus tickets do you need?

A FRIEND OF MINE

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A FRIEND OF MINE

A friend of mine is a cloistered friend so how did this come to be?
Perhaps  because of the ache in her heart for…
A love who could never be.

(Perhaps her dad was the key.)

Her papa did drink from dawn to dusk from the time she was a girl.
He spent prime time aguzzlin’ gin as he…
gave the worl’ a whorl.

(So what does this mean to me?)

I was a Papa, indeed I was and a Great-great, now that I am.
And all of my children are beautiful now…
that I finally give a damn.

(So why do I feel so free?)

I could have been her Papa if not for a friend of a friend
Who shared about turning it over and…
How to make healing amends.

(So what does this mean to thee?)

That’s it, Dear Friend…
My name is Lee…
A very grateful Recoveree…
a Recovering Orphan of the Big Hazee
(immeasurably gratefully is he.)

THE HOUND OR THE HIGH GROUND.

thanksgiving, komorne hurka, zimichka 102

THE HOUND OR THE HIGH GROUND.

 

When my body is experiencing pain I can search the medicine cabinet  for something to kill that pain. I can swallow that pill; the pain will subside; and the cause of the pain will now be free to continue doing the damage that causes the pain in the first place.

When my body is hot with fever, again I can run for the medicine cabinet. The aspirin will lower the temp and with it the white count. Would I not have employed a healthier choice by deciding to soak in a hot bath and keep that healing, white count high?

And when I am afraid do I attempt to overcome the fear or to seek safety.

Shall I run from the hound or seek high ground?

I was once addicted to alcohol; did I quit drinking or did I acquire sobriety?

All of life is what it is to us according to our experience. There is no escape from pain. There is no escape from ague. There is no escape from fear itself.

BUT THERE IS HIGH GROUND. WE CAN REACH FOR IT. WE CAN ACCEPT IT. WE CAN ACCEPT THE LOVE THAT RESIDES THERE. WE CAN ACCEPT THE LOVE AND PASS IT ON.

THERE IS NOTHING TO BE GAINED BY FEARING THE PAST. ENJOY THE SAFETY OF THE POWER OF UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. IT HAS  BEEN  AND WILL ALWAYS BE THERE.