All These Forgotten Stories
All These Forgotten Stories
Check-In reminder and October's best stories. Plus--new pod episode dropped.
Can you believe Halloween is over again? I did not carve pumpkins. And I didn’t do many decorations this year. Three weeks ago, I had it on my to-do list: “Buy more skeletons and lights.” I don’t know what happened, but it remains on my list, not crossed out. Maybe next year. But everything is falling away so fast, and that feels—I don’t know.
Soon, it will be Christmas, and then it will be Memorial Day. Jesus Christ, just slow down. Right? Let me hang a wreath or pink paper hearts on the door or hide the eggs before Sunday or before it’s Halloween all over again. Anyway: I will repeat it—too damn fast.
This is a reminder for you to send us your Check-Ins for Tuesday. So how are you?
Our November Check-Ins run on Tuesday—so we need your help. Tell us what’s up with your recovery—share your triumphs, setbacks, or whatever else is lifting you up or dragging you down. Help us help you help everyone.
The perfect length is 150-300 words.
Here's a GREAT example of what we're looking for.
Last month, I had a week-long relationship with a guy I met in the rooms. He immediately relapsed after the first time we had sex, and I smoked crack and fentanyl with him, something I’ve never done before and will never do again. He OD'ed twice in my apartment, and I Narcan'd (proper verbiage?) twice and called the paramedics once. We're both too young and too old to do this stuff (29/30). I had been sober for 4 months before that, from alcohol, my DOC. Now he's dating another girl from the rooms, one I'm friendly with. I feel like he stole my sober time, although I'm obviously the one who made the choice to enable him and paid the price. So now I'm a month clean, for the millionth time, and he and this girl are happily dating cleanly and soberly together. I still have to see him at meetings, and we both pretend we don't know each other and act like strangers even though I held him while he cried and called me an angel over and over again and he held me while I cried when he said he couldn't see me anymore because we had relapsed together. This feels like some high school shit, except this time people die. Either way, I'm still sulking about it.
EMAIL ME HERE: ajd@thesmallbow.com subject NOVEMBER CHECK-IN
It will be published on TUESDAY.
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AND BY THE WAY…
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See you Sunday?
Now, let’s showcase October’s most popular stories.
THE MOST POPULAR STORY IN OCTOBER:
“You and All That Cocaine”
by The Small Bow Orchestra
“I’m writing this email while walking my dog at 7:48 am while living a life that coke-addict me would not have thought possible or enviable. And yet, here we are! For most of the two years, I did coke every day; I wouldn't say I liked it and swore that I would stop. I had brief 72-hour periods where I did stop. I deleted the dealer numbers. I went for long, long walks. But I always came back to coke, a drug I used only in solo 24-48 hour binges where I didn’t sleep and made really good art. I haven’t made anything creative since I stopped three years ago. I also haven’t paced an apartment wanting to die because I couldn’t get a single atom of cocaine more into my miserable plugged sinuses. So why did I keep doing it? I’ve written explanations over and over again, but it always sounds pathetic typed out, but the first few hours or days, you really do feel like you’ve gained insight into something so important it’s impossible to imagine ever turning it down. And then you spend the rest of your life remembering how it used to feel.”
OTHER POPULAR STORIES FROM OCTOBER:
“Sober Oldster: Kristi Coulter”
by TSB-Oldster
“I owe my late-blooming writing career to sobriety. As a young and drinking writer, I had plenty of raw talent but no stamina. I didn’t understand why occasional bursts of brilliance weren’t enough to get me where I wanted to be. As a sober (and older) writer, I understand that real mastery comes from long, grinding hours. Which is so unfortunate! But anyone who has rebuilt a life in sobriety knows how to put in long, grinding hours, and to keep faith that what looks like a pile of chaos can one day have form and meaning.”
*****
“What Is It Like to Do EMDR?”
by The Small Bow Orchestra
by The Small Bow Orchestra
“I am pretty much an EMDR freak. I think it's incredible, and it has done more for me than pretty much any other modality, very specifically on trauma. I love 12 Steps for, like, staying sober and not being a jerk to people in my daily life; I love talk therapy for, like, oooh, that's why I did that thing that time. But EMDR has been central to my ability to hold certain facts: I almost died when I was in my thirties; my father left when I was very young; the first year of my daughter's life was inordinately challenging — with a neutrality.”
*****
“On Micro-Griefs”
by Chompy
“Yesterday, our pet crayfish died. When we got him last year, I'd assumed that maybe he would last three or four months, but he managed to last almost a year and a half despite imperiling himself on several occasions, including two daring, incomprehensible escapes from his tank. This past spring, he also endured a pothole-filled car ride as we moved from one house to another, leaving him splashing around in the car's backseat for what was, in hindsight, an excruciating amount of time. I thought I lost him that night—he seemed shell-shocked from the journey and didn't move much when I finally got him settled in. After a couple of hours, he appeared lifeless, so I unplugged the filter and the heater and put a towel over the tank. But the following morning, Chompy was awake again, snapping his claws, wondering why I put a towel over his view.”
NEW POD EPISODE DROPPED: STATE OF THE STATE OF THE STATE
DEPARTMENT OF STORIES IN OTHER PUBLICATIONS
“It might help to consider what else you can do with your free time if you get divorced (in fact, what you can do with any free time you can carve out right now). There’s the obvious stuff that most people turn to—pickleball, Duolingo, a book club where you’ll probably end up rereading All Fours. You did not reveal if you’re in a 12-step program or any support or outreach program, but that will help you get through the emotional turbulence you’ll inevitably encounter if and when The Decision is made. So do those things. Practice filling that time. But push yourself even further. You know what would be cool? Roller Derby. Or archery—but shoot, like, flaming arrows. Build wrought-iron sculptures in your backyard or garage. Freak out your neighbors. Freak out yourself—find something that scares and excites you. Big swings from here on out will keep your spirit alive, and that will help you get through this.” [SLATE]
(BTW: I NEED MORE QUESTIONS FOR NOVEMBER: EMAIL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE PART OF THE SLATE COLUMN. SUBJECT: SLATE ASK AJ)
This is The Small Bow newsletter. It is mainly written and edited by A.J. Daulerio. And Edith Zimmerman always illustrates it. We send it out every Tuesday and Friday.
You can also get a Sunday issue for $8 a month or $60 per year. The Sunday issue is a recovery bonanza full of gratitude lists, a study guide to my daily recovery routines, a poem I like, and more exclusive essays.
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ZOOM MEETING SCHEDULE
Monday: 5:30 p.m. PT/ 8:30 p.m ET
Wednesday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET
Thursday: (Women and non-binary meeting) 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET
Friday: 10 a.m. PT/1 p.m. ET
Saturday: Mental Health Focus (Peer support for bipolar/anxiety/depression) 9:30 a.m. PT/12:30 p.m. ET
Sunday: (Mental Health and Sobriety Support Group) 1:00 p.m PT/4 p.m. ET
*****
If you don't feel comfortable calling yourself an "alcoholic," that's fine. If you have issues with sex, food, drugs, DEBT, codependency, love, loneliness, depression, come on in. Newcomers are especially welcome.
FORMAT: CROSSTALK, TOPIC MEETING
We're there for an hour, sometimes more. We'd love to have you.
Meeting ID: 874 2568 6609
PASSWORD TO ZOOM: nickfoles
A POEM ON THE WAY OUT:
At the Bomb Testing Site
by William Stafford
***********************
At noon in the desert a panting lizard
waited for history, its elbows tense,
watching the curve of a particular road
as if something might happen.
It was looking at something farther off
than people could see, an important scene
acted in stone for little selves
at the flute end of consequences.
There was just a continent without much on it
under a sky that never cared less.
Ready for a change, the elbows waited.
The hands gripped hard on the desert.
ALL ILLUSTRATIONS BY EDITH ZIMMERMAN
