How to get Dr. Irene's Advice: Look here!

Ask The Doc Board Archives

The CatBox Archives

Stories Archives


Below is an Interactive Board sampler. A fuller listing is found in the "Stories" menu above.

4/14 Interactive Board: Codependent Partners

3/23 Interactive Board: He's Changing... I'm Not...

3/1 Interactive Board: D/s Lifestyle

1/14 Interactive Board: My Purrrfect Husband

12/12 Interactive Board: What if He Could Have Changed?

10/23 Interactive Board: Quandary Revisited

8/24 Interactive Board: Quandary! What's Going On?

7/20: Dr. Irene on cognitive behavior therapy and mindfulness

6/12 Interactive Board: Unintentional Abuse

11/7 Interactive Board: Is This Abusive?

12/29 Interactive Board: There Goes the Wife...

11/4 Interactive Board: A New Me!

10/8 Interactive Board: Seeming Impossibility

9/8 Interactive Board: My Ex MisTreats Our Son

5/1 Interactive Board: I feel Dead - Towards Him

4/26 Interactive Board: Why is This So Hard?

4/19 Interactive Board: I Lost My Love...

4/7 Interactive Board: Too Guilty!

A Poem: No

A Poem: No

By Christine Wood

"Everyone who got where he is had to begin where he was."
--Robert Louis Stevenson

January 19, 2002

No, no, no, no help

 It didnít come from loved ones who surrounded me like a cell wall


any offerings to be a beam to support me

 it only came from the books Ė only the books

lending a helping hand with their words gently placed on

the page and they nestled up against me when the tide

came.  The tide that took my sandcastles away


Those books laid next me anonymously and

Pressed themselves to me, embossing me and I felt their presence and

THEY gave me hope

 their hearts were found, fluttering to the beat of the turning pages

The authors sighed on me when they saw the mirror


No, no, no, no it was none of you.  You family of wooden

Soldiers obediently marching to an empty tune.  No I donít

recall ever seeing you.  And I had really wondered about it all of those years.


But a  crowd was there, the dog-eared

Pages, the bright covers, you witnessed me in there,

Engulfed in the pain that stole me.  You pack

Of books handing me back to myself and showing me

That I still existed.


I use my will to never forget.

Thank you Christine... Doc

Copyright Christine Wood 2002