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 […]
It’s that feeling that I just can’t shake off. You know, one that just sits on your chest, heavy as can be. Gnawing at you. Taunting you. It wears me out. I’m tired. So tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of planning. Tired of strategizing. Tired of wanting. Tired of striving. I need to clear my […]
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.
Without further ado, I present to you my life story in a list. The “life list” is easy to read, yet powerful. It is minimal but effective. There are therapeutic rewards to reviewing your obstacles and how you overcame them. Check it out and consider sharing yours….you never know who it might inspire, touch, or encourage.
Tell me one thing I survived that you want to know more about. I’ll write my next blog on it.
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.