I took my first drink at the age of 12, and smoked cigarettes at the time too. It was 7 years after I had been sexually molested, and I was dealing with the trauma in all the wrong ways. My father wasn’t around due to his own mental illness and substance use problems. My mother […]
My father wound ran so deep in my heart and soul it was part of my identity for decades. It was a wound that couldn’t be cured by running away. It couldn’t be cured by sleeping around for men’s attention. It couldn’t be cured by drugs or alcohol. It couldn’t be cured through co-dependence. It couldn’t be cured through isolation and depression. It couldn’t be cured by obsessive striving for success. It couldn’t be cured by becoming a control freak. It couldn’t be cured through anger and anxiety. It couldn’t even be cured through therapy and medication (though they were helpful). No. What it took was a relationship with my heavenly father to cure the broken relationship I never had with my earthly father.
Today offers an opportunity of reflection. 16 years ago every heart in America was in mourning. On 9/11/2001 there were 2,997 American lives were lost (per CNN) in the heinous acts of terrorism. For some, today is a day like any other, others will forever mourn for those they lost. For many of us though, if we take the time to reflect on the last 16 years, we can see the impact this date has had on our lives, on our story, on our journey. This is the tale of how 9/11 affected my journey.
At the time Bones came into our lives we were a mess. Our family status was up in the air. I had one foot out the door, ready to run. We needed a miracle. We were meant to rescue Bones…but he ended up rescuing us.
Everything was great. Life is great. I’m living the dream. I’m sober, and I have an amazing job, and I’m pursuing my MA in Addictions Counseling. My marriage is awesome, and my kids blow my mind every single day with their growth and perspectives on life. Yet, here I was, sitting in the driveway of my gorgeous two story suburban dream home, in a vehicle worth more than my annual income, crying my eyes out to a song about Peter Pan.