Writing has always been apart of my life. I might as well have been born with a pen and composition book clenched in my tiny hands. I learned how to read when I was about six and fell in love with stories. I realized very young that if I can read then I can write and if I can write; well, I can tell any story I want. Maybe my own? Once I started using drugs that kind of all fell to the wayside. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would try but all that was left were illegible scribbles and smears of my own blood. You heard me correctly. So after I got clean, I thought about how cool it would be to s ..read more

Play the tape It’s not easy to choose this life every day. Especially when things aren’t going my way. When this happens, my broken brain starts forming bizarre ideas like running away and leaving my children and husband behind. I realized recently that, how I handle those moments is so crucial. Not only because It’s easy to slip into the denial that it was a good time or that maybe I didn’t really have a problem, but forgetting the most gut-wrenching parts that brought me here, to begin with. A wise man once told me, “The past is a gift, those who forget it are doomed to repeat.” Well, it’s r ..read more

Photo by Pexels I’m just your Average thirty-something mom and wife residing in commonplace suburbia with my husband, our three kids, two guinea pigs, and a cat. I love coffee more than Lorelai Gilmore and music is my all-time favorite kind of soul food. My life today is much different than it was growing up. As a child, I always felt very alone and different compared to the other kids. There was a time when my only friend was myself, my cousins, or a pen. When I wrote, I felt like I was less heavy, and for a while, it seemed to help me release some of the pent-up feelings I was suppressing. I ..read more

None of it will matter in the end, you know. The dirty dishes. The mountains of laundry. The scrubbing. The sweeping. The mopping. It’s all for nothing. All of it. The incessant obsession to do more. ‘The unrealistic goal’ that my happiness lies at the end of the finish line that is just beyond that tunnel. Yeah, newsflash for self: There isn’t one. At least not here. I know that perfection is unattainable and yet, here I go, like clockwork, every morning to get it all in order and squared away. The repetitious momentum reminds me of slavery. Only, I am the master and the slave. Or better yet ..read more

I have a better word for depression. I’d like to call it The Funk, and respectfully so… I’d like to tell it to go fuck itself! Last week, I found myself in the grip of this Funk. It was a dark, lonely, and hopeless mental space that didn’t feel easy to just snap out of. Usually, I can convince myself that I need to stay strong and not allow it to consume me. But, this time… this time was different. It was almost as if it sunk its teeth right into my box of tools and ate them simultaneously. I am no stranger to depression. I have had my moments every now and then. The feeling of melancholy, te ..read more

As Christmas approaches, I can’t seem to find anything that I’d want because what I want can’t be bought. In fact, all that I feel is this earthquake of emotion as I think of all the things that I can not have. After all, what I want aren’t things at all. The desire for one more doesn’t come in the way that it used to. Instead, of one more bag, or one more bottle; all I desire is one more hug. One more chance to respond sooner. One more “I love you”. One more phone call that I would have, should have or could have made. One more talk, one more kiss on the cheek ‘goodbye’, one more of anything ..read more

Complacency is the big comfortable couch owned by the Disease of Addiction. Vigilance is the only source of prevention. I think that I often sit here, forgetting where it all started. As if I have become placed in the safe zone and protected against relapse. Sitting here is comfortable at first, but just like anywhere you sit too long, your body starts to grow restless and the urgency to move takes over. Complacency is probably the most painful place to sit. In my experience, it is the beginning of regression after the long labors of growth. Something my sponsor told me after one of my many “w ..read more

I marched down this lonely and cold road with bloody, blistered feet. The gravel felt like knives puncturing them with every step I’d take. I hadn’t eaten in days but, my stomach didn’t even seem to notice. My eyes were dark and glazed with hammocks of blue resting under them. Desperation filled my heart and the need for more filled my aching bones. I looked at the street signs and all I could see written on them was “My Way.” This road I had been walking was the one that I chose. The thought of turning around wasn’t an option. The days began to blend together as I continued on this path, lea ..read more

As Christmas approaches, I can’t seem to find anything that I’d want because what I want can’t be bought. In fact, all that I feel is this earthquake of emotion as I think of all the things that I can not have. After all, what I want aren’t things at all. The desire for one more doesn’t come in the way that it used to. Instead, of one more bag, or one more bottle; all I desire is one more hug. One more chance to respond sooner. One more “I love you”. One more phone call that I would have, should have or could have made. One more talk, one more kiss on the cheek ‘goodbye’, one more of anything ..read more

Complacency is the big comfortable couch owned by the Disease of Addiction. Vigilance is the only source of prevention. I think that I often sit here, forgetting where it all started. As if I have become placed in the safe zone and protected against relapse. Sitting here is comfortable at first, but just like anywhere you sit too long, your body starts to grow restless and the urgency to move takes over. Complacency is probably the most painful place to sit. In my experience, it is the beginning of regression after the long labors of growth. Something my sponsor told me after one of my many “w ..read more