Poems by Diane Dawson

Poems by dIANE dAwSON

Wants & Needs

I want 5 million dollars. I need $25,000. I want to be loved by a man. I need to love myself first. I want to get high right now! I need to focus on my recovery. I want to be in the spotlight again. I need to fall back, and stay in the shadows. Sometimes I want to hurt people. I need to figure out why. I want to lose weight. I need to eat right and exercise. I want to say what’s on my mind. I need to think before I speak. I want what I want when I want it. I need to practice patience. I want to jump into the ocean. I need to learn how to swim.

I want a boyfriend. I need a companion. I want, I want, I want... I need to get a life. Oops, I already have one! I need to stand for something, or else I will fall for anything.

Ode to rehab

Dawn, fall to my knees to pray, Sun is rising, looking out my window, I see the snow-covered mountains, pine trees as far as the eye can see, a hawk glides by my window, the sky is red then it slowly turns blue. Shower, get dressed, sitting at my desk with writer’s block, I smell coffee, I leave my sanctuary, enter the dining room, I say good morning to the personalities, pouring myself a cup of decaffeinated coffee, cursing under my breath, yearning for a real cup of coffee & a cigarette, breakfast is served, meds are swallowed, bell rings. Groups: AA, NA, Daily Inventory, Anger Management, Stress Management, Sober Recreation, Healthy Endings, over & over & over again—30 days straight. Feelings, mourning the dead, soul-searching, crying, anger, guilt, temptation, humility, gratitude— an emotional rollercoaster ride, back & forth, up & down, finally surrendering & accepting sobriety. Whew! What a ride! Emerging from my 30-day sanctuary with a certificate in my hand & tears in my eyes, so hard to say goodbye to my peers, must restart my life. Anxiety is on the rise. On the bus ride back to Manhattan, as the bus enters the city, I smile, looking at the city through sober eyes for the first time in 20 years, I now know that anything is possible. Hi, my name is Diane & I am an addict.

rituals

Negative Check Day: Wake up like a fireman, 1½ hours of sleep, in the same clothes for 7 days, no underwear, no bra, no socks, dead of winter, no soap, no water. Head for the check-cashing, 7:55 a.m., opens at 8 a.m., second in line (SHIT!) get my HASA cash, call my dealer (FUCK!) he still sleeping, go to the deli, buy a 6-pack of Cobra, pack of Newports, call a couple more dealers (BINGO!), run home, enter my room, lock the door, load, sizzle, burn, bell ringing, head banging, hot flashes, scrape, over & over & over again, repeat this process until I’m broke, eat everything I can get my hands on, crash, wake up in the same clothes.... Positive Check Day: Wake up, 8 hours of sleep, listening to Steve Harvey, make a cup of coffee & breakfast, wash dishes, take a shower, put on clean clothes & fresh Nikes. Head for the check-cashing, 7:55 a.m., opens at 8 a.m., second in line (COOL!), get my HASA cash & stamps, buy a carton of cigarettes, pay my cable & Internet bill, go to Pathmark, food galore, go to ASC, interact with peers at the Creative Writing Workshop, go home, make dinner, watch my HD flat screen TV, chain smoke Newports, pop a Seroquel, say my prayers. Good night.

Damn, what a difference!!

Medieval

Why must these disturbing dreams invade my mind? Disfigured demons sticking me with pitchforks, mocking me, I try to escape but my feet are stuck on human flypaper, nowhere to run, so I take the pain. So easy to commit murder & decapitation in this world, with my sword in my hand & the taste of blood in my mouth, I am invincible, slaying these demons, delivering the death blow at my will, I am a woman possessed by warriors of my past, my eyes are black, I am strong, but they keep coming, relentless devils, death & destruction are closing in on me, skulls & bones crunch under my feet, I can feel the heat from the Dragon’s nostrils as I fight for my life, I look around & I notice I am fighting this battle alone. Then all of sudden I wake up, I am sweaty, confused & my arms hurt. I am that scared little girl again, crying in the darkness.

To Me

Happiness to me is a good piece of steak. Happiness to me is music, all forms and genres, especially the ’80s. Happiness to me is being able to wake up every morning. Happiness to me is looking at a tree or a flower and capturing its picture. Happiness to me is the smell of fresh-baked bread. Happiness to me is that first cig and cup of coffee at 6 a.m.—so peaceful. Happiness to me is watching Cable TV. Happiness to me is a good NA meeting. Happiness to me is being held and having my head scratched. Happiness to me is having someone tell me it’s gonna be alright when I wake up screaming. Happiness to me is hearing him say, “I love you.” Happiness to me is locking my door and shutting out the outside world. If I can find happiness in all these things… Why am I so sad?