Connectedness. That’s what it is. That’s what it takes. Alcoholism disconnects. Recovery connects. The gathering of eggs in the morning at Uncle Paul and Aunt Edith’s farm. Climbing nearly to the top of the old pine tree at the bottom of the gravel driveway. Up there where the birds fly. Pinecones. Hickory nuts. Walnuts. Chestnuts. Fuck it. Everything’s one if you make it one.
Alcohol broke my world apart. Humpty Fucking Dumpty. Put me back together.
Connectedness.
Sobriety is connecting the sober dots. The dots that are left. Connect the dots. Collect the eggs. One half of my brain is fried, the other half is scrambled.
Am I such a bad egg?
Connect the dots.
from All Drinking Aside (Rough Draft, Day 58)
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