The Blog

Three years ago when my husband moved out of our home, I couldn’t picture today’s scene. I hoped for peace, forgiveness, healing, but couldn’t have imagined the particulars: the specific smell of his apartment, piles of folded laundry I’ve never seen, the familiarity of his energy.

Sometime last week it occurred to me that since I can remember, I’ve cast someone into the role of Man Who is Rejecting Me. This was a serious lightbulb moment, complete with an audible Ohhhhhhhhhh and a jump out of my bed to text a dozen of my friends and share my epiphany.

I'm one of those annoying people who never shuts up about books. And it's not because I've read so much (I haven't, relatively) but because words are my primary map for life. There are hundreds of books that made a mark on me, but the ones on this list are those I return to again and again and recom

Here it goes: since I was probably 15 I've struggled with drinking. Over the years I've done many things that could have completely destroyed the parts of my life I value the most. And if I'm being honest I have caused myself and others some significant pain. Being married and have kids now it seems

I’d hear the words tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth like a drumbeat in my heart—a prayer, an encouragement, a promise—that if I could find a way to do it, I would be forgiven and free. But I couldn’t find any version of the truth that didn’t make me a monster. I searched, even prayed for “good enough” reasons to leave: lies, a big betrayal, hidden addictions, a mortal flaw in him or our relationship, but never found anything but my solid, kind, just-as-promised man.

No doubt there are some big, obvious benefits to being sober that just about anyone can appreciate, even those of us who don’t fall into the dreaded “problem” zone. No hangovers, check. No “oops” texts to your ex-lover(s), awesome. Lately, though, I’ve been thinking about the benefits I never expected. The things I wouldn’t have imagined or predicted—the more subtle but profound shifts that have really changed my life.

I've been sober 107 days after years on the relapse roller coaster. I believe one of the keys to my success this time has been putting my sobriety first and letting everything else go. It's been hard for me to do this because I feel like a slacker. My question is, how long can let this go on? At what point do I need to crawl out of bed and start being responsible again?

I struggle with other "non-substance" addictions. I'm constantly worrying about who likes or doesn't like me, if I am attractive or thin enough, if I am a good mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend. It's consuming and I liken it very much to an addiction to alcohol, pills whatever. You're blogs have made me cry because they resonate. I'm trying to realize it's "ok" to fail or be imperfect, but it's been almost 37 years of thinking it's not ok to be these things.