Category Archives: Learning

The Tide is Turning


Despite all of my carrying on and whatnot over the past couple of weeks, I want to let you know that there have been some major shifts in my routine over that same time period- the things I have struggled with aloud here have been the very things I have devoted most of my time to dealing with in my real life. A lot of times, when I am writing about my life in my blog, it is a way for me to sort out and work through things on a different level. It’s a great way for me to pinpoint areas where I am not doing as well as I would like to be, and it seems like I just naturally start to resolve things the minute I put them down on “paper”, essentially.

I wrote recently about wanting to feel more confident in myself, and figured that one of the ways I could improve my self-esteem would be to behave in a way that would inspire more respect in myself- in other words, do a good job. Make it my goal to really pour effort into whatever task I am doing, so that when it is done, I know I did my level best. With this spirit driving me, I have had the best couple of weeks at work that I have had, as far as consecutive days go, in probably years. I have made it my business to enforce some self-discipline during my work hours, which is essential (and also incredibly easy to lose completely) when you work from home. I set specific goals for myself, keep track of the work I am doing, and reward myself with a short break every hour, when I’ve reached my goal. I leave the TV off. I open up my blinds to let the light in. I sit down, I listen to podcasts, and I earn my paycheck. At the end of the day lately, I have felt the satisfaction of knowing I did my job well, and it really does feel amazing. Bam, my self-confidence soars.

Side note: My friend Jennifer gave me the book “You are a Bad Ass” by Jen Sincero for my birthday, and I just finally started reading it- well, actually, I’m almost done now. I figured this was a perfect time, when I am pretty open to ideas and help. I have been surprised to find how many of the recommendations in the book are things I already either do, or at least have realized, on my own. Which is not to say that the book is useless- far from it! I think it is just generally a great idea to read books full of positive information that will lift you up, and I have learned quite a bit as well. My point is, aside from what I have gleaned from the book, the realization that I am already doing so many of these things makes me feel like I might be doing better than I thought.

Something big happened after I wrote the post about being lazy- boy, I never would have seen that one coming, but…I’m super glad it did. I want to share with you that the minute I finished that blog, I got up and did the dishes, and I have barely stopped cleaning since then. I’m not kidding! I have not gone to bed with a dish in my sink since that blog was posted. I have been doing laundry nearly constantly, filling bags with Goodwill donations, throwing things away, and sorting out the junk and bric-a-brac that I have allowed to accumulate in small piles throughout the house. I filled a garbage bag just from my tiny bathroom alone- full of old makeup, expired medication, empty cosmetic boxes, and just…shit. Shit that has been cluttering up my life and making me feel bad. Every night, when I finally sit down to relax, I can REALLY relax, because my house, while not yet exactly how I’d like it to be, is already a thousand percent better than it was. And again, I can sit there knowing I worked hard, and did a really good job. Again, major self-esteem boost.

And finally, remember the post about losing my sense of adventure, and how I was stressed out about my landlord coming and code enforcement and all that? Well, turns out that might have been the best thing that could have happened. As a direct result of the pressure applied to me, I paid someone to haul off ALL the junk in my backyard (a pretty impressive amount, to be honest. I don’t know where all this crap even comes from!) and then I paid someone else to come and clean my massive yard for me. Best money I’ve ever spent. I also called my landlady to find out when this visit is supposed to happen, and learned from that call that she isn’t mad at me at all. She’s actually more upset with the city for bothering me in the first place. So, not only did I feel so much relief from dealing with the issue head-on, but she was thrilled to hear that I had done so much work to make the yard look nice.

To wrap this all up, I want to announce that I am leaving town today, having decided to take a vacation out of town after all. No, I am not going to Oregon- I realized that I didn’t want to risk sitting in the car for a total of 24 hours with a seven year old in what looks like will be terrible weather. I opted instead to head south, to the sunnier portion of California, and I couldn’t be more excited! My kiddo and I have BIG plans for the next several days, and I don’t want to tell you where I am headed because, of course, I am planning on writing about it.

So, just to make a terribly long blog even longer, I want to say how grateful I am that I have this outlet to express myself. It’s exciting for me to be able to share, and discover for myself, the way this blog is a tool I use to work at the knots in my life, and how writing through my struggles actually helps me to resolve them. If all I was doing was bitching about my life, it could be toxic. But this last few weeks has shown me that what I am really doing is figuring out how to be better, and the advice and support I get back has been such a wonderful bonus. So THANKS! I am off to pack for my trip now!


Punishment Enough

punishment enough

I have been cursed with a guilty conscience, thanks largely in part to living a lifestyle for many years where I usually was doing something wrong. I mean, nothing major, for the most part, but generally, just the way I lived, it was all very secretive, very sneaky. I got in trouble with people all the time and it was normally very much my own fault, and so…I developed a habit of feeling pretty bad about myself.

This has not changed, despite the fact that I am very much a responsible, productive member of society these days. What it amounts to is that I tend to be a lot more nervous and worried about making mistakes than perhaps your average person- as a matter of fact, I don’t allow myself any room at all for messing up. When it inevitably happens that I do, I am very, very hard on myself. I expect the worst consequences despite the fact that people have almost always been more forgiving of my screw-ups than I anticipate. Basically, what I’m saying is, I’m kind of a wreck. When things are going smoothly, I am okay. But throw one little issue into the pot, and the entire trajectory of my thoughts goes rapidly down hill. I obsess. I am consumed with worry. I feel really, really bad about myself. And I have had it.

I’ve had it with my attitude about myself. I’ve had it with my inability to just let things unfold, and my refusal to have any faith in myself. I’ve had it with my catastrophic thinking, and more than anything else, I have had it with fear. Even as I write this, I have a little thing hanging over my head that is causing a major disturbance in the force, and my poor fear-poisoned body feels tight and uneasy and anxious. I woke up with that old, familiar heaviness, that sense of dread that I know so well. I’ve had enough. I have to let it go. So, here is what I have to say to myself-

Dear Courtney-

Life cannot be lived while curled in the fetal position, not even the figurative fetal position. You don’t have to be afraid. Everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t go the way you have planned. You are safe. You can rely on me. I am not going to let you down. You can’t enjoy the awesome adventure of life if you are holding on so tightly to all of this fear. You can put it down. No matter what happens, you will figure out a way to navigate it. You always find the silver lining, always, eventually. Try to remember that. You are a good mother, a good friend, and a good person. The past is over with. You are allowed to leave it there and move on. Your life was punishment enough. Stop beating yourself up for being someone you bear no resemblance to anymore. That girl was sick and sad and desperate for help…and you saved her life. Give yourself credit for how far you have come. You have been through so much. It’s time to start enjoying the life you have managed to create. So hold your head up, and let the chips fall where they may. And never forget that I love you.

Love, me.

I know that got a little weird, but I needed to say those things to myself. Now it’s public, so I can’t take it back. 🙂

Here’s to lighter hearts and lighter loads to carry. I’m ready to leave some of this baggage behind and skip a little bit. Happy Friday!

My Girls


One thing in my life that it is never hard for me to be grateful for- even on the very worst days- are my daughters. Man, I hit the jackpot when it comes to kids! My girls couldn’t be more different…not only are they 13 years apart in age, they are just completely different personalities, and yet I relate to them both so much, in separate ways.

Yesterday, my eldest, Aisley, who is beautiful and complicated, came down off the mountain she now lives on for a short visit. She misses me so much now that we aren’t seeing each other every single day, and it’s been hard on her. So when she does get to come into town, she’s so excited to see me- she wants me to write down recipes for her, and she has so many things to show me and share with me. This daughter has always been my uber-affectionate little bear, and she still wants a million hugs and all my attention when she sees me. Yesterday, she planted a little vegetable garden out in front of my house for me. She put in little stakes with labels so that I would know what was what, and she made me promise to remember to water it. She has my dirty sense of humor, and we always make each other laugh, and I am so glad she belongs to me- that I get to be her mom. I’m so happy to call her mine.

And Cammy, my little one…oh, man. She is so smart and independent, with her giant vocabulary and the biggest heart. One of the great joys of my life is waking her up every morning. I always take a minute to watch her sleeping;  mouth open wide, hair in a big old knot on top of her head. She still lets me haul her into my lap for a quick cuddle most days, even though she hangs over both sides of me by quite a bit, and I can barely pick her up. I smiled this morning as I watched her lurch, half asleep, to her waiting bath, like a little drunk person. I know these particular days aren’t going to be around for too much longer…I am acutely aware of the passage of time, having been through this once already.

That’s all, really. I just wanted to take a minute to speak my gratitude for my children out loud to the Universe. I don’t know how I got so lucky- I definitely got so much more from this life than I probably deserved. But I am so in love with those girls, and feel so blessed to be their mom, still the most important woman in their lives. Every day I pray to be worthy of the task, to be the person they need me to be. Some days I fall short of the mark, but miraculously, they love me anyway. I don’t understand how that works, or why it’s true, but I’m sure glad it is.

Have a beautiful day. 🙂

An Uncomfortable Post- I Need Your Advice.


*Although this post does mention I am not a Trump supporter, it is not really about that. Please hang in there. I am super nervous about posting this, but I really need some perspective.

I feel like I need to preface what I am about to say with this- I am about as Liberal as they come. I was one of those that were devastated and flabbergasted by Trump’s election. I don’t even really know what else to say about it, other than I’ve sort of accepted the reality of what is happening, and, finding no other real viable solution, I’ve taken a massive step back from all things politics. I know this is rather cowardly of me, but what the fuck am I supposed to do, when I truly believe nothing I do can have any significant impact at this point? I stay away from the news. I don’t keep up. Every time something filters through to me, it’s awful and goes against what I believe to be the right way, and it’s like a punch in the gut. So I retreat. For now, until I can cast my next vote. So, there you have it.

I understand that I exist in a world where I am going to come into contact with many people, every day, who believe in different things than I do. That is fine. This is America, we still have the freedom of choice. I don’t walk around waving a banner with my political leanings, ethical and moral code, and specific belief system. It’s kind of like the old “Don’t ask, Don’t tell” thing from the military, except not about sexual preference. It’s about not getting into something intense and upsetting in an inappropriate setting. Unfortunately, sometimes this shit comes to you, and no matter how hard you try to sidestep that shit, it keeps coming.

Oh, you guys…listen. I can handle lots of stuff, I really can. But this has got me SO upset. I recently became reacquainted with a guy I knew somewhat, years ago, because our kids are in the same class. There is absolutely NO reason why I should have to know anything about his political belief system, except for he is one of those who REALLY wants to bring me over to the other side. You have to believe me when I say THAT WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER HAPPEN. And I just don’t think this is something I should have to be subjected to in the few minutes after school, while just waiting for the fucking bell to RING, already. But whatever. I can just deflect, ignore, or even say “Yeah, I don’t support the (insert whatever insane thing it might be), and there isn’t enough time to get into it.

Then, one day, I innocently asked this person how work was going- I thought this was a safe topic, right? I still want to be friendly, I just don’t want to talk about making America great again. And that’s when the first incident happened. He rolled his eyes and said “Pssh, those fucking Mexican’s on that job…I ought to call ICE on them.” And I felt my soul shrivel up inside my body. It was one of those awful moments where I was so shocked by what he had just said, and my eyes darted around to see if any of the other parents milling about had heard him, and I just wanted to stand up and say “I am not that kind of white person! Eject, Eject!” But I didn’t know what to do, so I just said “That is awful!” And then he said, he said!!! “I know, tell me about it!” But I had meant that what he said was awful, not that I was agreeing with him! Oh my God!  But the bell rang, and I high tailed it right the fuck out of there.

Another day, he reported gleefully that ICE was doing raids all over California, deporting illegal immigrants. I just said “Yeah, I don’t support that.” My standard refrain, to which he replied “Why? What about all of us who worked so hard to be here legally?” And I thought ‘who the fuck is he talking about? Did he immigrate here? Am I missing something?’ But again, bell rang, I ran. I mean, this is no way to live, but I guess I was just too chicken shit to stand my ground. Not only was I starting to dread these interactions, but I was growing to loathe myself for being so unable to speak my own truth back at him.

Then, yesterday, something really awful happened. He very kindly, and without me asking him to do this, brought my daughter’s backpack by my house that she’d forgotten at school. His daughter had come here for a birthday party, which is why they knew where I lived. I went outside to say thanks, and out of nowhere, he brought up another little girl in the class who was good friends with his daughter, and how she was Muslim, and he started GOING OFF about Muslim’s and how their “bible” encourages raping white women (I am not making any of this up) and about genital mutilation and on and on…and his daughter was sitting RIGHT THERE. Listening to every word that came out of his mouth. When I looked at her, she looked mortified. I put my hands over her ears and I said, as gently as possible, “Do you really think you should be talking like this in front of her?” He would not be dissuaded. He kept going off. It segued into this whole thing about Trump, and I tried, I really did, to diffuse the situation, but he was kinda freaking out, and I was super caught off guard, and it just wasn’t good.

Listen…I don’t care who you voted for, that’s fine, whatever. But this went into a whole different realm of racism and hatred and ugliness. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and every time I tried to say anything, he yelled over me, and finally I just said “Dude, you need to calm down- you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” I came inside and tried to calm down, and like five minutes later, he called and asked if Cam could come play with his daughter and I SAID YES. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m telling you guys, the need to be liked is STRONG with me. It’s a real fucking problem. I actually left my kid there for like 30 minutes before I came to my senses and made up some story about forgetting about some prior thing and that I needed to pick her up. That was a super bad call on my part, and I’m just going to own it.

He asked if they could have a play date today. I said maybe. I talked with Cam’s dad last night and explained what had happened, and he (who by the way does not share my political beliefs at all) said absolutely not. He couldn’t believe I let her go over there in the first place. I’m sorry this is so long, but I am almost done. I woke up this morning, and spent a lot of time researching the Muslim faith, just to educate myself in case this came up again- I already knew that what he was talking about was Muslim extremism, and not your everyday, average Muslim, but I wanted to confirm what I thought. I know that the odds are, even if I do have to be subjected to another meltdown like that, I won’t be able to state my point, or I will be so rattled that I won’t be able to formulate an intelligent sentence. So, I did what I do best- I sat down and wrote him a message outlining how he had every right to think however he wanted, but that I thought it was fucked up to say things like that in front of his kid, and I worried about her repeating those things to her Muslim friend at school. And furthermore, I was worried about what he might say in front of my child, if he had no problem speaking that way in front of his own. I said it as nicely as possible, but you and I both know it’s not going to go over well.

My question to any of you who have made it this far is this- do I send the message? Will it even do any good at all, or will it just make life weird for my kid at school, and me every time I see this person? If I don’t speak up, isn’t that being dishonest? Part of me wants to scream back just as vehemently that everything he stands for makes my skin crawl, and part of me fears that will just add fuel to the fire. I don’t know what to do, or how to handle this.  I do know I have handled it incredibly poorly so far. I am seriously in knots over this. Can I also just add, I realize that not all Trump supporters are like this, this is an extreme situation that goes way beyond that. I do not mean to be divisive, I am just truly upset and looking for guidance here.

Thanks. Sorry again that this is so long.

The Courage to Face Yourself


I remember the exact moment that it hit me. The moment when I realized that the only reason I was still using every bit of energy I had, every resource I could scrounge up, to come up with some pittance of dope day after day. It wasn’t to get high- I couldn’t get high anymore if I wanted to, that ship had long since sailed. It was to keep myself one step ahead of what was constantly nipping at my heels. The truth. The truth about who I had become, and what I had made of my life. The truth about the wreckage I had caused, and the collateral damage…the pain I had inflicted on everyone around me.

I was in my living room, in a shitty apartment in Reno, Nevada, and I was stalking around the way I always did- restless, agitated, trying to figure out my next hustle. Half out of my mind from lack of sleep and fried brain cells, and it hit me. A moment of clarity that I really wasn’t looking for.

“You’re going to have to face yourself, eventually.” The thought came out of nowhere, and it was one of those weird moments where it sounded like my own voice in my head, but it didn’t feel like it came from me. I didn’t want to hear it, but I couldn’t help it. I remember that I stopped my pacing, and considered what my head had just told me. I wasn’t ready yet, not at that moment, but something had happened. A seed had been planted, blown into me from somewhere- maybe it was God, maybe it was just my own desperate psyche, trying to save me. I don’t know.

After that, weird little moments kept cropping up- I would be in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, and catch sight of myself in the mirror, and find myself thinking “Can I even get back to the person I used to be? Does she even exist anymore? What if she isn’t real? What if all I am is this nightmare of a human being?” Or, at two in the morning, I’d find myself nodding off on the couch, thinking “What if I can’t change? What if this is just who I am?”

I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, I can see that all those questions were more than just idle thoughts. They were the very beginning of my escape plan. The very idea of doing something different was so absurd, so foreign to me, that at first, all I could handle were these tiny little thoughts. Eventually, they grew and grew, until I had worn myself out enough that I had no choice but to drop from exhaustion. My first surrender was pure exhaustion, so complete that I couldn’t even wave a white flag. I just gave up because I had nothing left in me to keep going.

My first spin through recovery was more of a reprieve. I made it two years, I relapsed for one day, then made it another year. I went through the motions, learned all the acronyms, went to meetings, thought I was getting somewhere. But after all that time, when the opportunity to use came along again, I jumped at it, and it wasn’t long before I was right back where I’d been before, with the exception that I was now employable, responsible, and really good at faking my way through life. In short, I was a functioning addict now as opposed to the totally dysfunctional one I had been before. Progress, right? Yeah, I don’t think so.

When I got clean again almost three years ago, I had no idea how different this time would be for me. I had no clue that I was finally ready, and that the work I was about to embark on would be painful, hard and the most life-changing thing I could do for myself. Thank God I didn’t know! If I had, I never would have had the courage to start. I have unearthed things I never wanted to look at again, I have told the truth about things I hadn’t even known I was lying about all my life. It has been gut wrenching and frightening at times- to see myself in the most unflattering of lights, to realize what a mess I made, not just of my own life, but of the lives I was responsible for. My kids definitely carry the shrapnel of my battles in their skin. There are some things I will never be able to fix, unless someone figures out how to build a time machine.

But even so…what could I do? My past mistakes are so intrinsically linked to the joys of my life, they could never be separated. I had to be who I was to make the choices I made to get to exactly where I am. If I went back in time and changed one thing, I would not be this person sitting here, writing this, right now. The framed pictures of my children that I can see would not be there, because they wouldn’t be here, none of it would.

So, if I couldn’t change any of it, and if it was so painful to face, why do it at all? You might ask. Why not just leave the past in the past and move forward, leave all that shit behind you. The only thing I can tell you about that is, there is no peace in burying the truth. The moment I found the courage to face the ugly truth, the moment I took responsibility for who I had been and what I had done, the past lost its power over me. I still have moments, nearly every day, where I feel remorse or regret over something that happened long ago. But they are just twinges now, they don’t feel like a punch in the gut anymore. And that really IS progress.

You cannot heal and hide at the same time. Anyone can run away from the truth, or bury it- but you can’t bury it deep enough to keep it away. The truth ALWAYS finds a way back to the surface. The most courageous thing I have ever done in my life wasn’t getting clean- it was inviting the truth up to meet me, seeing it for what it was, and finally, setting myself free.

via Daily Prompt: Courage



I spent a good portion of last weekend cleaning my house. It needed to be done, and it always feels great having order restored, however temporary that order may be. But, when I found myself house-bound with a sick child both Monday and Tuesday, I was sort of at a loss for what to do. I could have folded the three loads of laundry that are sitting in a basket on my couch, but for whatever reason, I just can’t quite bring myself to deal with that. I did my normal avoidance routine, consisting of screwing around online, and binge watching yet another show (Mom this time, on Hulu- if you haven’t watched it, check it out. It’s pretty hilarious.). Eventually, though, I had to do something else, something productive, and I knew it was time. Time to deal with The Closet.

The Closet is in the hall, four doors, two on the bottom, two on the top, and I have been avoiding it for three years. Well, three years in March. That’s when I moved into this house, and that’s when I shoved The Closet full of bags and boxes of paperwork and keepsakes and God only knows what else, and left it to rot. I was still getting loaded when I moved into this place, and to be honest, I’ve been a little afraid of what I might find if I went poking around in there.

But on Monday, I put my big girl pants on and started digging- one bag and box at a time. There was a lot of junk, sure…things I should have thrown out eons ago. Printer cartridges for printers I don’t own anymore, file folders full of bills that no longer exist, insurance information for cars I no longer own. I filled up my recycle bin in the space of a few hours. I didn’t find anything to be ashamed of, though, and certainly nothing that put my recovery in danger. So that was a relief.

And then…and then I found some other stuff. I’ve kept boxes for each of my children- those fancy, pretty banker boxes- not the plain brown kind, but the ones you can buy at Marshall’s or Target with the beautiful designs on them? I’ve kept them for my kids and for myself for quite some time. I never really thought about how long I’ve kept them, and I don’t know if I’ve every thoroughly, soberly, gone through them since I started, but…I’m really glad I did.

Although I am working hard on my opinion of myself as a mother today, in the present, my opinion of the kind of mother I have been in the past has become rather concrete. I was a horrible mother, I decided, with no redeemable qualities, and my daughter would have been better off with anyone else. I was heartless and unloving and drug addicted, and I can rarely think of a time when I didn’t suck, heartily, at the task of parenting my eldest child. But her box of mementos tells a different story. I have every art project, every note to Santa and the Tooth Fairy, every report card and hand-made note she ever made for me- so many that I might need a bigger box. This “horrible mother” wrote things my daughter said to me on sticky notes and kept them, all these years. There are pictures of us that I had forgotten about, and we are laughing and playing, and clinging onto one another with love. My mind, my awful, lying mind told me a story and I believed it, and I have carried it around with me for all these years, without question. The things in this box tells me that maybe there is more to that story, more that I need to remember.

In my own box, I found cards and letters- real, hand written letters- from people whom I love, and who love ME. Letters from my best friend Grace, and letters and cards from my grandparents and mom, and a whole bunch of letters from Joe, my friend who died in August. You can’t imagine, you really can’t begin to imagine, how much that meant to me. Reading through all of those words from people who cared so much about me, not just when I was clean, but throughout the worst parts of my life, reminded me that I still had value, I was still worth so much, even when I believed myself to be worthless. I may not have been well, but I was loved, and I was worth something to all these people.

It blows my mind that living the crazy, chaotic life that I lived for so long, having lost nearly everything I owned on more occasions than I can remember, I managed to save these amazing items. I lost households of furniture and closets of clothes, but I have the discharge papers from my daughter’s birth in 1997, and all the cards from the people who visited me at the hospital. I lost everything, except the most important things of all- the slips of paper, the glossy cards, the letters that could fill in for me the memories I lost along the way. The story of a girl who wasn’t all dark, who always had a little light, a little more worth, than I could have remembered on my own.

The Closet is nearly done now- just one more shelf to go, and it will be neat as a pin. I put those boxes away after shedding a few tears, and I sat down on the couch full of wonder and feeling so much lighter. I am not exactly who I thought I was, and for once, I was so glad to be wrong…and anytime I start to forget, or start listening to the lying voice in my head, I know I can just pull one of those boxes down out of that closet, and find all the evidence I need that I’m not all bad. That there was something worth saving in me all along.

The Perfect Word For Me

I have yet to participate in the daily prompt, but the word today is “Candid”, and I can’t think of a better word to describe me and my blog. Of course, now that I have repeated the word a few dozen times in my head, it has stopped making any sense to me at all, as is the norm. Dammit. Okay, hold on.

So, according to my Webster’s Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary (be still, my nerdy little heart) Candid means: frank, outspoken, open and sincere. Straightforward, free from reservation…Well, I don’t know about free from reservation. Definitely have had my moments of “Should I really talk about this?”

But here is what I have figured out- when I write about (or talk about, which I also do) things that no one wants to write or talk about, people are so relieved. They are so happy to hear that they are not alone, that they are not the only ones thinking or doing or living with whatever set of circumstances they’ve been feeling so weird about.

I figured this out long, long before I started blogging- long before blogging was even a thing- that no matter how weird I thought something about me was, when I talked about it, other people invariably laughed and looked surprised, and said “Me, too!”. There have been no exceptions, or, if there were, I don’t remember. What I learned was, I am incredibly average- there is nothing that weird about me at all, except for maybe my propensity for discussing things we normally do not discuss. Those are my favorite, and I think the most important, things to discuss.

Okay, so maybe not everyone struggled with years and years of addiction. But I can guarantee you that everyone loves, or at least knows, someone who does have this struggle. So maybe for them, this is eye opening. Maybe they can understand a little better because I choose to be open with my struggles. Not everyone who has kids wonders if they aren’t the best parents…no, actually, probably everyone with kids wonders this at least a little. Hey, I am here, writing about my own deep love for my kids, and wondering if it’s enough.

Being candid in the world we live in now is more difficult than ever- it has become scary as hell to offend someone, and there is so much PC bullshit, you never know who the hell you might upset. My advice is to say what is on your mind. I mean, yeah, don’t be a racist weirdo- as a matter of fact, if you think what you want to say is racist, just don’t talk. We don’t want to hear that shit. But if it’s real, and true for you, say it. When someone asks you what you think, tell the truth. Be candid. That is a valuable asset these days- my friends seek me out when they need an honest assessment of something troubling them, because they know I will give it to them straight.

Be kind, but be candid. Be careful, but honest. There are enough fake people in this world, who will tell you what you want to hear when that will not help at all. Don’t be one of those people.

via Daily Prompt: Candid

Three Things


As my daughter sits here, eating cereal more slowly than a sloth, I figure I have 15 minutes to do my weekly list. Here are 3 things on my mind this morning:

  1. I am really enjoying WordPress right now. I find new blogs to follow every day, and it is exciting…I have to remember not to get caught up in the rat-race mentality. The purpose of my blog, really, which started out as a way to keep me accountable on my quest to better myself as I grew older, morphed into a sort of journal, and finally became a way for me to talk about my addiction and recovery- that is the purpose of my blog. I do care about “likes” and “follows”, of course I do. But at the end of the day, if each blog finds its way to one person who needs to see it, if one person feels like maybe there is hope after reading my words- that’s really what this is about for me. When I remember that, I enjoy this whole experience a LOT more. I might even do a list of my favorite blogs soon, if I can get my shit together enough to do it.wordpress
  2. This past week has been rough for me. I have been trying hard to take care of myself, but I consistently bite off more than I can chew, and it hit me this morning that I need to remember that I am trying to enjoy my life. If the things I am doing are making me miserable, I am not doing it right. It’s great to have goals, but it’s important to pay attention to the way you feel while you are out pursuing them- if it feels like shit, knock it off. I’m not saying give up the minute things get hard, but if you are really unhappy, you probably aren’t on the right track. That’s where I’m at, anyway.enjoy life
  3. And finally, my favorite Podcast this week is Two Girls, one Ghost. If you like spooky stories, you are going to binge the F%#K out of this one. I am a huge fan. Those girls make my workday bearable. If you are into podcasts and like ghosts, black eyed children, etc., you will enjoy them immensely. Check them out!Two_Girls_One_Ghost-Annes-Version-Draft-6



I knew, long before I was ever ready to start fighting, what my biggest battle in life would be. I knew that I was an addict when I was still very young, before I could even manage to inflict very much damage on myself, or those around me. I understood, on a certain level, that I “partied” differently than other people- I was already worried about where and how I would get more the moment I got my hands on my particular poison. There was a brief, tiny moment of relief the second the substance hit my blood stream- and then the next second, I was thinking about how I could make it last, how I needed to pace myself, how I could find more, how I would get it, who I would get it from. It was a full time job, my addiction.

I used to think, under a different set of circumstances, I could use happily. If only I could hold a job, and had enough money- if I could be in a different environment, one where I wasn’t just relying on other people to keep my head above water, maybe then I could use drugs and it would be okay. So, God blessed me with that set of circumstances, and I got to see that there was a whole new set of reasons why I couldn’t use successfully that way either. Suddenly, I had the fear of being found out. I had the fear of losing everything I had worked so hard for. I had the shame, now, of living a lie. I actually found myself missing the days when I could just be a bold, in-your-face fuck up. Hiding was ALWAYS part of the deal, but this was a whole new level of fakery. It sucked.

And it was a blessing. My addiction, in all of it’s forms, has been a blessing. I was blessed with obstacles, and I was blessed with the ability to overcome them. Because I am who I am, I never would have been able to get to where I am right now if I hadn’t gotten to beat that poor dead horse from every conceivable angle. I needed to run myself into the ground, exhaust every option, until I was able to admit that I had no idea how to master this thing- that it had mastered me. Only then was I able to surrender, and it was the greatest blessing of all- surrender became my only way out, and better than any relief I’d ever experienced from any drug. Better by far.


I have been blessed to live this life, hard as it was, because it brought me here. That doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets- I do. Oh boy, do I. Every single day of my life, I deal with memories that surface out of nowhere, filling me with the most exquisite shame, embarrassment, sorrow. Things I have said and done to people I barely knew, or people whom I love greatly-they run the gamut from just a little stupid to outright cruel, and I struggle to forgive myself. To forgive that girl- that dumb kid, really, that I was. It’s rough. I didn’t just stay in the shadows of the world during my active addiction so much as I inflicted myself upon people. I was not easy to deal with, to say the least. And I have to live with that knowledge, and the scope of it. I am the only one who knows just how wide my path of destruction really was, after all.

Where is the blessing in that? Well, let me tell you- it keeps me stepping carefully today. Knowing what I am capable of, how sharp my tongue can be, how short my fuse, I am careful. I know well the feeling of regret, and I don’t want anymore. I am learning how to think things through, and how to stop myself, and when I can’t, well…I have learned how to apologize. I am truly a better person today because of who I was in my addiction- and yes, almost anything would have been better than who I was then, but I what I mean is, I have worked very hard to be a good person. Someone who thinks very hard- maybe too hard sometimes- about how I want to show up in the world. I don’t think I would have thought this much about what kind of person I wanted to be if I hadn’t been where I have been. Pain is a catalyst for growth, and I have had a lot of pain. And a lot of growth.

I do not recommend that life to anyone- there is no guarantee that you will ever get to the depths I experienced if you find yourself in that world, but there is no guarantee that you won’t, either. There’s no guarantee that you won’t fall further than I did, and there is no guarantee that you will ever find your way out. But I choose to see that life as a blessing because of what came after it- the love I have been able to experience as a result of my recovery, the way I know for sure that it could be so, so much worse. The way that, even on my very shittiest day clean, I can still stand to look someone in the eye. I couldn’t do that on my best day using. I think that there is a blessing in every cross we bear. It’s just up to us to figure out what that blessing is.

Balance or Burn Out

low battery
Literally how I feel right now

13 days into the New Year, and already, I find myself having to give myself a stern little talking to this morning, after seeing how events have unfolded, particularly over the past week. I never really did go into what all of my goals for the year were, at least, not publicly, but loosely, they probably looked a lot like many others goals- eat thoughtfully. Get consistent exercise. You know, take care of myself in all the ways that matter to ME. I tried to be pretty specific, and even wrote out recurring appointments for myself in my planner.

My planner, which I haven’t so much as cracked open in at least the past seven days. You see, my BIG GOAL this year was to focus on writing- ALL things writing, which you have, if you pay any attention to my blog at all (and thanks, by the way, for doing that) probably noticed I have been doing quite a bit of. Anyway, writing was my big goal, and, as I do, I went whole hog into it. Not just blogging- that is more of a secondary interest for me, a way to connect with other writers- but my novel, which is coming along freaking brilliantly. I am not kidding, I am in LOVE with that project right now. I started the month by cutting three finished chapters (which, by the way, was basically like murdering family) that were really not working, and starting over. Best thing I ever did. I got the story rolling again, in a direction that fit much better, and I have really gotten into my writing groove.

Like, really really really gotten into it. To the point of exhaustion. Brutal, terrible, this-isn’t-good-at-all exhaustion. Combine that with my other big goal this year- to be CONNECTED with others (meaning, spend the time I am not writing basically socializing) and already, I found myself hitting a wall. Tuesday night, I ran my women’s meeting, got home, got to bed late. Wednesday, worked all day, got off work, went to an event (which I will tell you all about tomorrow) with a friend in Santa Cruz, got home late, went to bed even later. Thursday, I worked all day, got off work, went to work my other job for a little while, got home, met up with a friend that I am going on a trip with next fall so that we could start planning. Got to bed late again. Friday, I was sitting at my desk at work, and…I kind of lost it. I thought I was getting sick, but I KNEW I needed to lay down. I took the rest of the day off, went home, and didn’t get off the couch again for the rest of the night. Except for when I went to Taco Bell and bought one of everything on the menu. I left the couch for my bed at 7, and slept like the dead. I didn’t even wash my makeup off last night- I barely remembered to remove my bra. I just checked, and yes, I actually slept in my clothes.

I didn’t make it to the gym last week, not once. I ate terribly, at least one really bad meal every day. Oh, and I decided that waking up at five wasn’t early enough, by the way, so I have been getting up around 4:15. Look, you’d have to be blind not to see that a schedule like this is going to lead to burn out. Now, as I sit here in yesterday’s clothes, with yesterday’s mascara clinging to my eyelashes, I am having my come-to-Jesus moment. I can’t do this…not like this. I have to pull back a little bit.

Look- the concept of “balance” is kinda played out, I realize this. The idea of having a perfectly balanced life is utter bullshit. We are messy, fucked up little human beings, and we can’t even find our keys, we have kids who never have any idea where the hell their shoes are, and even when we can find our keys and their shoes, we get halfway to work and realize our coffee, their back pack, etc., is sitting on the kitchen table. Balance isn’t ever truly going to be achieved. It’s a myth. Once in a while, you are going to have a perfect day- enjoy it. That is not how life really is.

BUT: You (and I mean “I”, obviously, as well) do have to try to take care of yourself in the basic ways, the ways that fuel and tend to your body. And I have not been doing that, not by a long shot. I haven’t slept enough. I haven’t eaten right. I literally drank maybe two glasses of water all week. Now, I am paying for it. After all that sleep I just got, I could still crawl back into bed and sleep the day away.

So, what is the solution? Well, I am NOT going to allow myself to sleep all day, because that won’t help at all. What I will do, however, is drink some water today. Hit the gym. Pick up some groceries and make sure I have healthy options available this week. And I will get to bed at a decent hour tonight, knowing I will be right back at it at 4:15 tomorrow. It’s great to have goals, and drive, and I love the passion I have for my writing, but…what’s that saying about the marathon and the sprint? Yeah, it’s the longer one of those. Yawn.