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Her Pretty Little Neck
One recent afternoon, I was sitting at my desk feeling lonely and anxious when I noticed the sun was shining through the blinds in a way that felt perfect on my face. I shut my eyes and basked in the...
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My Sister’s Addiction
A few mornings back, I came upon an excerpt from a book my sister sent me a couple years ago, along with a note that said: “This is me! This is me!” Here’s what she sent: “I have been learning that the...
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When Mercy Trumps Judgment
In early May, I’m speaking at an annual fundraiser for a large women’s center in Texas. Their mission is to provide housing and services to homeless and addicted women who are trying to rebuild their...
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No Matter What (For Moms of Addicts)
This time, she’s wearing a floral dress and pink lipstick. The pained expression I recognize well. Before she even opens her mouth, I’m pretty sure she is the mother of an addicted son or daughter. I...
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Secretly Hoping for Edmund’s Demise
When I was newly sober, I had a list of possible tragedies which, should they come to pass, I thought would warrant a relapse. Surely, if my husband died or I got terminal cancer, no one would begrudge...
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Ditch the Gas Cans
When I first ran across this cartoon, it totally cracked me up. It’s hilarious the lengths some of us are willing to go in our battle against destructive compulsions. But if you think about it long...
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Inside Every Monster
This past week, Dave has been out of town on a backpacking trip with his kids, and I have been taking care of business at home—which has included reorganizing my office (Okay the re part is a lie—it...
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The Best Thing We Can Do
Good morning, friends. Forgive me if this gets long or rambly. I only have time for that kind of post this morning. I woke up thinking about two recent comments from either the blog or email: “I just...
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“Does Daddy Drink Because I’m Bad?”
“Because Daddy’s sick.” Throughout my childhood, this was my mother’s explanation to my siblings and me for why our father behaved erratically, why we had to move across the country to get away from...
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“They Come in Droves”
Eight years ago, when Dave and I first moved into our circa 1890s house in Colorado Springs, the neighbors warned us about Halloween. Apparently, our Victorian-era neighborhood was a big...
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