She read a poem from a man who had been sober twenty- two years and then relapsed. He had completely fallen apart. The poem she read was one of the last things he wrote, before his fall:

Twenty-two years since my last drink, last handful of pills

Twenty-two years since the night I first saw that red-eyed, red-faced, puking demon.

I raise my head from the toilet and look into the mirror

I start to scream and cry and punch things.

Two weeks in oblivion: no food, no memory, just aimless walking; confused, scared, alone, hopeless.

Still sick, not vomiting, not bleeding, not drugged, Gray skies.

AA/NA: broken people trying to help each other heal. Introductions: I’m a drunk, I’m a drug addict, I’m sick, I’m insane.

I don’t want to live like this. I don’t know how to live any other way.I don’t know how to live. I don’t live, I feed my demon.

Twelve steps, personal inventories,

The battle over the third step, a battle that will last the rest of my life. Understanding, making peace, getting better, feeling good, not drugged, not drunk.

Healing: Temptation, fear, setbacks, refusal. Dig deep, hang on. God grant me the serenity.

Say it. Say it again. Say it again. Say it again.

A victory, a small but significant victory.

Recovery: a process, it does not end.

Recovery, gratitude. Peace. Confidence. Recovery. Life, living it, mistakes, forgiveness. Anger, pride, the real drug. My drug. Rage, violence,

Say it again. Say it again. Say it again.

Peace.

A life, always aware, demons, always there, always close.

Work to ignore him. Work to deny him. Work to accept him. Pray for peace.

A child, my baby girl. An addict. Rage, the rage again. Breaking things, breaking hands, out of my mind, not drunk, drugged on my rage. Want to kill. Want to hurt.

Her face. Tears.

AA/NA again: The process never ends. We start again, together. The rage subsides. I find love, I find peace. My baby girl is free and sane.

Gratitude

Confident, happy, at peace

A hospital, a simple test: A drug in my vein: desire, craving, planning, I want the insanity. The demon, sits unchanged, smiling, waiting. Always, always, always waiting.

Say it again. Say it again. Say it again.

A victory, a shock, a move forward, confident and aware. Never arrogant, always aware.

He sits there in the corner: waiting, always waiting. He will wait forever to kill me.

Say it again, say it again and say it again.

‘Not today, you won’t win today.’

The tall, thin woman said, “The author wrote that two weeks ago and he gave it to me. He’s dead now. Just dead. Fucking dead. I can’t put into words how sad all this makes me. I guess the lesson is to never become too confident, too self-assured. We all have that demon waiting to own us, to rape us, to kill us.”

This was the first time that Frankie completely understood the battle.