Sobriety قصص

Donovan Shepherd thinks he's the shit, good looks, incredibly charming and yet, he's still the resident bad boy and he can get away with almost anything. Gia Blackwell is quiet and keeps to herself but is also smart and witty, when she needs to be. Content with her new life at her new school where no one bothers her, she starts to settle in and escape her past until a boy who thinks he's bad starts to irritate her and suddenly, Gia starts to unravel and she might just make Donovan regret bothering her by bothering him right back. TL;DR This is a 'bad boy, bad girl' story and yes it's a love story.

19-year-old Aries Moon struggles with addiction and its consequences, including a drunken outburst that permanently damages his on-again, off-again relationship with his girlfriend and causes her new friend, Soul, to dislike him. As Aries fights to stay sober, he interacts with Soul more and more leading to unexpected love and healing. Aries finds himself battling his inner demons, trying to rebuild his relationships and finds comfort and solace in another.

Quinn has constructed her life around a romantic prophecy. She will fall in love and live happily ever after. Ben offered everything she wanted. Until, slowly but methodically, he extinguished the light from her eyes. Healing means abandoning an ideology she believed in, that love is her story. As Quinn pieces herself back together, rising memories force her to confront a painful question: can you mourn a life you chose not to live? Almost is a story about love, loss and the quiet grief of becoming someone new.

Nolan Rodrigo, a recovering heroin addict, finds himself in a new foster family after multiple failed placements and a troubled past. He remains skeptical of their intentions, fearing they view him merely as a means to enhance their social standing. Nolan's battle to stay clean and reach his eighteenth birthday becomes an uphill struggle. The Highmores, his foster family, are determined to support him in his sobriety, despite his attempts to push them away. At a party, Nolan meets Austin, who offers him tutoring and secures him a job at the local country club's café. The two bond over their shared experience as foster children, and Nolan begins to trust Austin with his troubled past. However, their relationship hits a snag when Nolan interprets Austin's actions as an attempt to "fix" him. Despite his genuine care for Nolan, Austin's efforts are met with resistance as Nolan grapples with his fears of the future. As Nolan struggles with his sobriety, he loses sight of who is on his side and who is not. Having convinced himself that he is alone, Nolan stumbles down a dark path that is difficult to turn back from. He must overcome the challenges he faces or succumb to the consequences of his actions.

My journey with mental health, addiction and psychosis

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For a bridge once burnt severs ties forever... Newly sober and dating the man of her dreams, Traci Collins is ready to enjoy the good life, until her new best friend, Olivia Durning, confides a dreadful secret far worse than Traci could imagine. Sealed by a shared bond, and unaware there is more to the secret than what she was told, Collins feels honor-bound to protect her friend when a confrontation between Olivia and her childhood tormentor turns deadly. A mysterious text forces Traci to question Olivia's actions and re-examine her loyalties. When the answers to Traci's questions endanger a life she treasures more than her own, she must decide if friendship has a limit. Subscribe to updates from Marguerite about new books and other news at http://www.margueriteashton.com/r.a.t/

And one day these burdens will be gone

I wrote this poem on my birthday. It's written as a promise to myself, my late mother, and my readers, that I will continue to stay sober and better myself. It also covers a small section of my temporary loss of sanity, suicide attempt, and week long stay in a nut house. I hope anyone reading enjoys.

Every family has a story. Ours just happened to unravel at the funeral. One mother's truth. One son's disbelief. One sentence that tore through silence: "Paul was an asshole." Family Façade cracks open the polite rituals of grief and exposes the raw, unfiltered honesty hiding beneath "thoughts and prayers." A follow-up to Happy House - this poem stares straight into the mess we inherit, the laughter that leaks through pain, and the sacred chaos of finally telling the truth. - From the collection "Barbed Wire Psalms" (part 6 of 8) by Christopher Paul Putnam (CP²)

December 8 THE WAY I DO IT Cooking by smell, parking by ear, recovering by touch.  The latter has to be done this way; I cannot see into the black-box technology, which keeps me sober.  Feel through the resentments, pain, sadness, joy; find myself under a pile of rags with a match in my hand.  The many times the steps have saved me from becoming a human torch are balanced by the weight of the rope, woven from these same rags, that together we use to drag one another to safety.  The savory scent of a meal, or the glee of front row parking can’t compare with the tender sense of a sober heart.   Write bad advice on tissue and wipe with it. * Master Mind I was taught that it was my job to master fear; raised in a religion swearing they could master death. I used to spend all I had trying to create a master plan, while trying to keep secure using a Master lock.   I have seen Master & Commander and do not long for that burden; in fact mastery is so much a snare and illusion.   Life is quite improved when we each have an oar and we all row on.   Vlog: http://youtu.be/J9IaheHYzsg   You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

After spending years sober I hit a new bottom,a bottom in recovery that no human power could relieve me from. That meant meetings, fellowship, sponsees, all of it stopped working. I had forgotten the most important aspect of the program and was surrounded by people who did the same. We fellowshiped together and we then helped others to stay sober following exactly what we had done. There was no recovery in sight but a lot of gratitude for our physical sobriety we worked hard for. We were sober alcoholics and it worked...until it did not. Once an alcoholic realizes that even in sobriety and even after taking the steps and even after "Yes" being the most spiritual I could say for years....I was forced to fully concede to my innermost self that I was not happy, joyous, and free. God sent me to my sponsor who has been walking in the light of her recovery for over 62 years and I let it all out! Then I began my journey to recovery- I finally put my tool-kit down that I held like a clutch and allowed myself to feel the truth of who I was and where I was at. I got rigorously honest in my new hopelessness and I began to pursue the spiritual remedy for my malady with a willingness I had never before been able to muster- oddly enough that too is in the book.

Forgiveness built on rubble. "From my ongoing collection, Barbed Wire Psalms." The image of growing up from the outside was just a little different from what others saw. "Family Facade" to follow. - from the collection Barbed Wire Psalms (Part 5 of 8) by Christopher Paul Putnam (CP²)

Misc. Poems with no connection. Read, comment, Enjoy <3

Addiction tore through my life with horror; and here is the real life image of how it hit home. Life of addiction written in a rehab.

There was a version of my husband I didn't meet until years into our marriage. This is the story of what happened when I did - and the love that held on through all of it. Three babies in three years, and a secret only I carried for far longer than anyone knew. This isn't his story. It's mine - the silence, the strength, and the love that never left, even in the hardest years. We didn't just survive it. We grew into something neither of us knew we could be.

I took the cigarette out of his mouth and stepped on it. Blake grunted and brought the bottle up to his lips. "No," I said reaching for it but he pulled away. "Leave me alone," he mumbled and started to walk away. I pushed him back on to the wall. Did he honestly think this was over? "I'm not going to let you stay here, and get high with a bunch of crack heads." I frowned. He kept his eyes closed. "Just go Hales, please. I'm just going to make things worse for you. It would be better for us to live in two different worlds anyway," he said taking a sip from his bottle. I snatched it from him and my eyes started to tear up. "I like my world just fine with you." I yelled. "Listen bitch, he said go so just leave alright?!," One of the crack heads yelled. Blake pushed himself off the wall and and gave the man one of his icy cold glares. "Call her a bitch again and I swear to God I will take your pack of beer and shove it down your throat," he growled. The man shut his mouth and looked at the ground. I rolled my eyes. And I'm the bitch here? "Hailey go home. And don't come back here. Ever," Blake said looking straight through my eyes. I wasn't going to leave him but the look on his face says that I don't have a choice. Then I heard the noise and that's when I realized he'll be fine. ****************

aA metaphorical short story about the years I struggled with alcohol addiction and how it made me feel every time I drank

This is the first memior I wrote. As well as the first really concious memory I have. Also part of the first chapter of the book I'm working on about my life.