In my first days of recovery, I found the hole poem incredibly helpful and meaningful as a metaphor for rearranging how I wanted to move through the world. I had a conversation with Willow last night about the difference between being a victim and a survivor. I hadn’t had that conversation in a long time. It provided a nice opportunity to take stock of the changes I’ve made. I would say that at this point in my life I drift between chapters three, four, and five. There are some holes that I fall into out of habits that are very hard to change, negotiating the holes on the street has become easier, and for the most part I do take a different street. Still, there are those difficult “what the fuck?” times that I fall into a hole. Moreover, sometimes I wonder if avoiding certain streets is a good thing, or just another form of denial. But I suppose, following the metaphor, that different streets can take you to the same destination, and so you end up where you were going anyway.
There Is a Hole in My Sidewalk
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
By Portia Nelson
Chapter One
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost…I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
Chapter Two
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep whole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in…it’s a habit…but,
My eyes are open
I know where I am
It is my fault.
I get out immediately,
Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Chapter Five
I walk down another street.
