Tag: Depression
960 Days!
I don’t do this enough. Journal about one of the 960 days that comprise my sobriety tonight. I have many journals of day ones and day 30s and they still mean everything to me and are very much a part of the 960 today. All of those broken pieces have been repurposed to form the…
Born Again
Rilke said everything is gestation and then birthing I know this is true because the second time I was born after he broke everything not just my heart after I spoke everything not just my heart and years moved and my soul moved mutely in the dark unsayable nothing I emerged from that womb
Closed Curtains
Winter drops the late afternoon sun into my bedroom window just after three o’clock. He hovers there— burning the edges of my closed curtains like an eclipse I can touch. He says, you have to invite me in, which I find charming. My palms hover over the fabric, pin-holed from cats, reminding me of that…
Change is overrated
If there’s one thing that recovering alcoholics excel at it’s self-flagellation. Maybe it’s not just recovering alcoholics, but any one of us mid-way through life’s journey lost in a dark wood. It seems the first thing we ask is what can I change? Should I lose weight. Read more. Travel. Fix up the house. Find…
One Year Sober!
The last time I tried to get sober, I remember feeling elated at my almost 6-month milestone. I felt then like one might expect I would feel today. But I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for the strength that allowed me to arrive at this day, but my celebration is tempered by…
6 Months Sober
“You can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.” Nightbirde
Day 124
It’s been awhile since I’ve checked in here so I simply wanted to say hello and extend my love and well wishes. I just passed my four month mark! I’m absolutely counting the days of course, but not with the same measure of desperation as I was in the beginning. I am still trying to…
Independence Days
This slow Saturday breeze in my brain turned over an old photograph of us on my parent’s roof, Fourth of July. There I was, deep in the crook of your neck, my gentle grin holding the secret of your scent and my eyes the knowledge of our daughter, beneath our bodies, sleeping on that tiny…
Sobriety Poet 