This is a song that Dylan and a boy he met in treatment wrote in 2018. He was at Family First Treatment Center in West Palm Beach, Florida, the first long-term treatment facility he had been to since all of this started in 2016.

This center is significant to me as it was the first “Dr. Phil” – type rehab he went to. I also asked for financial help to sustain him there (something I never do, prayed about, and was overwhelmed by the response of support). It meant so much to us! (and also blasted us in the face at how impossible it is to afford good treatment in this country).

Lance and I made the long trip (by car) to join in 2 days of family therapy there. It was wonderful to see my Dylan, bright-eyed, alert, and enjoying his new friends. At one point, all of the parents were visiting the boy’s home to have lunch and we all sat in the living room while Dylan and his friend performed this song. Mind you, because of the gunshot wound, he has only 4 working fingers to play his guitar, something that never stopped him from learning. I was glowing with pride that day 🙂

I’ve shared this song with a few people and they all had their own interpretation of its meaning. I personally like to hear it as a 17 year old boy, in treatment, after almost 2 years of self-destructive behavior, looking in the mirror and wanting him-SELF back. Ahhh, the joys of analogy, symbolism and perception 😉

Enjoy.

I’ve often wondered why it’s been so difficult for me to trust my decisions when it comes to my son. Why I seek the “right” answer to any and every situation that arises between us because I just don’t feel confident in my “in the moment” decisions. But then I realized, therein lies (part of) the issue. There should NEVER be in the moment decision-making when dealing with an addict. For me, a well thought out plan is a must have. Setting boundaries with a certain amount of monetary help, or paying a certain bill, or bringing over groceries, whatever it is I decide to help with, needs to be very specific, very scheduled and made very clear to him.

Does this mean he won’t come up with a million reasons why he needs more, or start asking ahead of time with the rhetoric “I need it now instead of on the 15th” or “I’m literally starving mom, can’t you just order pizza?” He has and does and will have what sound like legitimate needs, stemming from no one hiring due to Covid, to lack of transportation, to no I.D. I’ve even heard “I can’t work there, they do drugs!”

So what do you do when you’ve read the books, or went to Alanon, or talked to a gal who’s been there, or to your therapist – you’ve started your plan for what you’re willing to help out with, as long as your adult child is doing A, B, & C – OR – maybe your plan is to help out no matter WHAT your adult child is doing. That’s okay too. After all, it’s not our job to police them. Remember, we can’t fix them. We can’t control them. It’s not really even our business what they’re doing (if we’re practicing a healthy detachment).

For me, I am willing to grocery shop for him and drop it off to him twice a month (within a certain budget). Even when he’s working, this is something I enjoy doing as a mom. It is HIS job to send me a list of needs before that date. If he forgets something on the list, he will have to wait until my next store trip in 2 weeks. If he forgets to send me a list period, I will NOT be buying him groceries (that has happened!). If he doesn’t plan properly for enough food, he will be without until the next trip (or figuring something out himself).

THIS is what addicts need. They must be made to do for themselves what we are always too eager to do for them. Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost sight that these adults CAN do these things. They haven’t shown us, or their bad choices keep them from it, but they CAN. So make them or THEY suffer the consequences. It’s not easy. It took me setting boundaries and giving in; setting more; talking myself out of it; trying again; falling for an excuse, feeling sorry – BUT, I kept trying. After years of this, I am here now. Not perfect, but better 🙂

I know you can do this mama!

(A story from “The Big Book”, some words changed)

Our behavior is as absurd and incomprehensible with respect to the first drug we use as that as an individual with a passion, say, for jay-walking. He gets a thrill out of skipping in front of fast moving vehicles. He enjoys himself for a few years, in spite of friendly warnings (no real harm done). Up to this point you would label him as “foolish” or “wild” having strange ideas for fun. His luck runs out and he is slightly injured several times in succession. You would expect him, if he were normal, to cut it out. But, he is hit again and fractures his skull. Within a week after leaving the hospital a fast-moving trolley breaks his arm. He tells you that he has decided to stop jaywalking for good, but in a few weeks, he breaks both legs.

On through the years this conduct continues, accompanied by his continued promises to be careful or keep off the streets altogether. Finally, he can no longer work. His wife divorces him and family and friends ridicule him. He tries every known means to get the jaywalking idea out of his head. He shuts himself up in a mental asylum, hoping to mend his ways. But the day he comes out he races in front of a fire truck and breaks his back. Such a man would be crazy, wouldn’t he?

You may think the illustration is too ridiculous. But is it? We, who have been through the wringer, have to admit if we substituted addiction for jaywalking, the illustration would fit us exactly. However intelligent we may have been in other respects, where drugs or alcohol are involved, we have been strangely insane. It’s strong language, but isn’t it true? [end]

It’s interesting how this story affects different people. Some roll their eyes, seeing it as an excuse. Others feel some sympathy for the addict, having realized it may not be as easy as “just quit already.” People in my position, the parents or close loved ones, have mixed feelings. If we are in the enabling cycle, this story is an “I told you so” moment for our doubters. (Hey, I’ve been there.) Bailing them out of all consequences, running to their aid, providing shelter (be it in our homes or paying for a place), doling out hundreds, if not thousands of dollars over a period of time – all of that is easier then watching them suffer; easier then our friends, colleagues and even family hearing that our “Johnny” is homeless or in jail or missing (again). After all, we KNOW they “can’t help it”. We know something HAS to be wrong for them to continue this.

But, when we finally begin “our” journey of figuring out the best way for us to love an addict, we hear this story in a completely new way. It no longer promotes the feeling of sympathy for my son, but empathy instead; and empathy is a powerful thing. It allows us to forgive all the hurt and lies and chaos that HAS happened and approach all that is yet to come in a much more meaningful way. Not only will your interactions (or lack there of) improve, but doesn’t it make sense to at least try a way that has a chance at helping your addict (while vastly improving your own peace of mind)? Let’s face it, the former “way”, albeit it easier for US, never helps THEM get closer to sobriety… and possibly wanting to help themselves (which is the ONLY time it can get better).

So what are you waiting for? Don’t waste one more minute in this meaningless cycle (as we too are like the jaywalker) – begin your journey of peace and maybe, just maybe, you will see the change in your addict too 🙂

Stay Strong ~ Shelly

So, I was at the gym this morning. (That, in itself, is a victory for this once home-bound, totally introverted, sit in the dark and worry about my son – kinda gal.) Anyway, this isn’t a gym you walk into, alone, and sneak to a treadmill in the back (hoping no one comes in) – no, THIS is a gym where you sign up for an hour time slot that day and you’re in it, with strangers (at first), trying your best to pay attention, learn the moves, while NOT loudly breathing (and sometimes swearing) in front of the class. The structure is motivating, and to be honest, when I got over my initial ‘no clue what I’m doing’ phobia, I realized having other people and a “coach” (for lack of a better term) was exactly what I needed to push myself further than I ever would on my own.

This morning was typical; a little less sleep than usual due to my son’s recent relapse, (so recent I haven’t even had a chance to blog about it yet). So, I’m on this “ski” machine (which I hate by the way), basically sprinting to 500 meters. This thing whips my butt every time, and as I’m watching the counter get closer to that 500 mark, I’m really feeling it. Heart rate up, losing breath, everything that’s supposed to happen when you’re pushing yourself in a workout. The harder it feels, the slower I go, until at around 450 I stop for a few. Literally maybe 5 more pulls and I’d have finished but my mind screams at me to STOP because, well, it was hard! lol

That’s when the gym owner, our “coach guy” tells me “don’t stop right before the finish line.” He says never do that because it sets a precedent in your life that you quit when the going gets rough. You don’t push through with all your strength to finish strong. And that got me ta’thinkin’ …

It’s obvious addicts have trouble crossing finish lines, that’s no secret, we’ve ALL seen it in our own children. We’ve watched them struggle forward, pick up steam, even get to a sprint at times, just to quit before the finish line. And if you’re like me, because I’ve learned to be content with far less than the best, your focus is most likely on the picking themselves back up when they fall, rather than EVER crossing that finish line. I mean what does that line even look like? Sure I’ve seen it in recovering addicts helping others, with families and lives, but do any of you even see that for your adult children at this point? Do you keep that hope alive by knowing one day they WILL recover?

I did, but I realized after this last relapse, the way I’ve felt, the way it’s affected me, that I had allowed myself to give up on him. I quit. Instead of seeing the beautiful life all of this CAN lead up to, I saw the older, alcoholic homeless man, begging for change on the corner. I saw his grave. Strange thing is, I realized that’s my go-to reaction when things get hard. Sure, emotionally it seems easier to not “dream” about a life that may never happen – but, in reality? That has made these last couple of days even harder. If you’re a regular reader of mine, you’re familiar with Pull it out by the Roots – something I was reminded of in the gym this morning.

Good growth is NEVER easy. Good growth; the kind that changes your whole way of being the parent of an addict is scary, gritty, and exhausting. It would be easier for us to hide at home, hide our secrets, our demons, keep lying to our families and friends, keep giving to and helping our children, not let people in, “pretend” and just survive for another 5 years, and then another (because in this circumstance, the truth is rarely convenient) … but we KNOW that won’t help our kids, right?

So, when you’re having a bad moment, when your mind is screaming at you to just send the money or bring them home, with all the guilt and shame and regret I KNOW you carry, just remember, the finish line for our kids COULD be right around the corner, but we’ll never know if we stop just short of it. They need us at our best if they have any hope of recovering.

You got this girl ~ Shelly

We Didn’t Cause it

Most of us have heard our adult child defend their using with statements like “I only use because of the way you treat me”, or “I use because I’m always worried”, or “You don’t love me, that’s why I use”, or “I’m not using to get high, I’m just trying not to be sick”… When we hear so many excuses, it becomes difficult to separate fact from fiction. If the addict hits upon something we feel guilty about (which they are SO good at), we find it difficult not to believe it as truth. Addiction isn’t caused by our family problems, our actions or in-actions, what we’ve said or haven’t said, or how we appear. Addicts might blame their using on the people they love, but they use because they have a disease. It’s that simple.

We Can’t Control it

Even if we CAN admit we didn’t cause the using, on another level we may still feel responsible. Although we try everything, the addict still uses. We attempt anything that makes sense and much that doesn’t. Yet we refuse to give up, because, as parents, that’s the one thing you never do -right? Sometimes all we can say is ‘the one thing we didn’t do, was give up on our child’. But, when we finally surrender, we realize we only gave up on our futile struggle against an incurable disease. Then, we’re free to focus on what we CAN do something about, rather than trying to change what we CAN’T.

We Can’t Cure it

Addiction is a progressive disease. If we didn’t cause it and we can’t control it, then the responsibility to find an answer HAS to fall on the addict. Until the addict has a desire to stop using, words, money, and treatment are all wasted efforts. While we are unable to cure addiction, we can change our own attitudes. When people in the addict’s life change their own thinking, the entire situation can improve. Knowing that we didn’t cause the illness, and can’t control or cure it, we learn to let the addict face the consequences of his or her actions. We detach enough to not be overprotective or cover up for the addict. We stop making excuses to friends and family for their behavior (others usually know what’s going on anyway). We learn to not let someone else’s using, interfere with our own plans. We do our best to accompany our detachment with compassion – to be understanding of the disease and everyone affected by it.

This is a page from “Alanon” that I felt led to share today. It’s my go-to reading whenever I need to be reminded I’m doing the right things for myself AND my son. As the parent of an addict, our internal way-of-being that has been ingrained in us our whole lives, is questioned. How CAN I feel joy when my child is in pain? How DO I lay down to sleep peacefully, not knowing if my child even has a bed tonight? How can I enjoy warmth and love and family around a Thanksgiving table not knowing if my child is hungry? If you’re a parent reading this, your natural response is “You can’t”, right? Believe me, I understand it.

Give it to God

BUT, I promise you, if you take all the energy you’ve been putting toward an impossible situation, all the time wasted trying to change the unchangeable, help the unhelpable, control the uncontrollable, you CAN do those things. It’s not easy and being a mother never ever goes away. Your child will always be with you, in your mind, in your heart … but that doesn’t mean their life choices are YOUR problem. You HAVE to be able to give this pain and guilt and constant worry away. You can’t walk through life with it crowding everything else out or you’ll have no room for joy and peace and true happiness. I choose every day to give my son to God. Every morning when I wake up and every night when I lay down. I physically lift him to God and trust that whatever is happening, whatever will happen, is all in God’s plan for his life and I need to be selfless enough to NOT interfere.

I’ll be praying for you all. God Bless – Shelly

There’s something to be said about the old adage, “we create what we fear”. When it comes right down to it, our way of being in this world is driven by fear … fear of rejection, failure, never being “as good as ____”. Add a child into the mix and we experience a whole new level of fear. Here’s this person we would give our own lives to protect, yet some of us are left watching, not able to save them.

Back when I was stuck in the constant co-dependent chaos an addict child brings, I used to use the analogy of being in an ocean. I’m on a raft with my parents, my husband, Dylan’s dad and extended family. Dylan is out in front of us struggling to stay afloat, trying to make it to the raft to save himself. I’m frantically running around looking for a line to toss him, asking anyone who would listen, “what should I do? what should I do?” Everyone has a different, conflicting answer:

“Make him do it, he can!”

“Throw him something!”

“Jump in and get him!”

“He needs his ass beat for even being out there – he knows better!”

“Eh, he’ll figure it out.”

Is there anything in life more fear-inducing than being in a life or death situation and not knowing exactly what to do? That’s where I find myself right now. Terrified of what’s to come. What has always happened at this point in his recovery … treatment and sobriety for a few months …

My fear got the best of me last night. It was one of the worst nights I’ve had in a while. Fear of not knowing what to do. Fear of emotionally being pulled in to help him “some”, but of being pulled under (again) WITH him. Fear of the pain I feel watching him spiral. Fear of the gut-wrenching feeling that my “no” means he’ll be out on the street, alone, using, and being hurt, possibly dead. My fear of what HAS happened is driving my response to him now.

Today, right now actually, I’m reminding myself what HAS happened is different in one very important way … me. I have changed and grown and learned from each one of those “before” times. I KNOW what I need to expect from him. I KNOW the best thing to do – yet I’ve gone against my better judgement before – more than once – ALWAYS regretting it.

So, if you’re still reading, thank you. Thank you for being a part of why I started this blog in the first place. Sometimes, trying to be a light for others is the light WE need to wade through and out of the fog of fear we’re lost in.

Keep shining 🙂 ~ Shelly

I used to think it was easier for parents who understood their kids to connect to them and parent them out of making the same bad choices. I realize now, that understanding my son’s issues throughout his life has made parenting him harder. I know what it’s like to have a brain that doesn’t let you concentrate, how it’s tough to set still in class, pay attention, retain information. I get how a “hyper” moment can leave you feeling vulnerable and how anxiety starts to overload you with the negatives others MUST be thinking because you were just on overdrive. Empathizing with these things caused me to set the bar too low as a parent.

As he got older and moved into adulthood, I also understood the struggle of an up and down personality. How I can be a “go getter” one minute – (that’s what I call it when I have a good run, a good month or so of organizing my thoughts, which in turn organizes my life, keeping my house clean, eating right, exercising daily … just …. having it together); and a “no-getter” – (feeling overwhelmed to the point of doing nothing, which leads to everything piling up, unfinished). The longer I let the latter stick around, the more chaotic life becomes and the harder it is to pull myself back up again.

I see this in my son and I understand it. As an adult, I’ve had my bout of turning to substances to ease an overactive mind. As a “functioning” adult, in times of “no-getting”, the most recent easy fix was turning to food. There have been times I have literally eaten myself sick JUST because that sugar makes me feel better; at least for a minute. The only difference between turning to drugs and turning to food is that food is not called “drug”. I’d say it’s more manageable than a drug addiction because of lack of severe withdrawal, but when I’m in that “no-getter” cycle, it doesn’t feel manageable AT ALL.

In the spring of 2018 I was “go-getting”. I had started therapy, and doing basically anything to help pull me out of the no-getter funk I had been in for years. By Christmas I was down 35 pounds and feeling great; feeling like life, even with my son in treatment, was manageable for the first time. When 2019 started, so came my excuse to stop therapy as now I had a new deductible to pay. I didn’t need it. I was doing great, right? What I didn’t realize then was, my go-getter lifestyle (at that point) was solely based on the fact that my son had been doing well for months. In treatment, sober, back to himself; no worry here.

Turn it into a Lesson

Then it happened. He moved back to Morgantown. He was now close enough for me to fill my “mothering” need once again. I started off strong, but it didn’t take long before I was sucked right back into the chaos of an addict’s world. Suspecting him of using, KNOWing I was doing too much and not holding him (or myself) accountable; the anxiety, the guilt, the depression. Before I knew it, Dylan’s life was in shambles once again and I had put back on all 35 pounds and then some. BUT I wasn’t all the way back to where I started. Why? Because THIS was the most valuable lesson I would learn to date. Without it, I wouldn’t have realized that no one else was going to do this for me. This was ME, it had ALWAYS been me, even before drugs had come into our lives. I needed to hold myself accountable, stop taking the easy road, stop making excuses, stop blaming my son’s choices for MY reactions, and JUST DO IT!

I’ve worked hard the past 9 months, and still have certain struggles I’ll continue to work on, but I’ve been my go-getter self longer than any other time in my life. I talk to my therapist at least twice a month, I’m enjoying time with my husband, friends and family; I’m down 55 pounds, and for the first time ever, can speak with my son in a calm, meaningful way, no matter WHAT I’m getting from him on the other end of that phone 🙂

So, if you understand the addict in your life, if you empathize with their anxiety, depression, need for control, etc., try turning the mirror around. Take it from me, you will never be able to truly hold them accountable without first, taking your own inventory.

Much love, Shelly

How do YOU feel when the phone rings? Is it like any other call … check to see if it’s spam before answering? Not a BIG deal, more like a “WHO is calling and not just texting?” lol

I remember those days, even though they feel like a lifetime away. Now, ANY phone call sends my heart into overdrive. I can be having a perfectly normal, peaceful day and BOOM, a phone call pierces through my serenity like a shot in the dark; at least until I see who’s calling. Normally, it’s obvious spam or someone I know; so my racing heart slows and I continue on. Then there are “those” area codes. Typically in the same state that I know my son is currently either residing in treatment, or living on the street having left treatment. At this moment, it’s California – and although the calls have been good, my mind can’t help but to expect that inevitable down turn.

There are three tones I’ve worked on as the parent of an addict that have really helped ease some of the pressure, anxiety, and constant worry . . .

The RING Tone

This will seem simple, but sometimes the most obvious answers are light years away from us. I changed my ring tone to a more cheerful, lighter sound. That way, when an unprogrammed number calls, it doesn’t automatically sound like a screeching alarm bell. I also found that any ringtone that once brought bad news needed to be deleted all together. That particular ring tone could never be used again. It just triggered my anxiety to hear it.

The OUTER Tone

The other tone I changed was my own to my son. It took me a while to be able to tell him ‘no’ in a loving way. Let’s face it, when telling an addict no, you usually aren’t met with acceptance, at least not at first. There’s an argument coming, a persuasive speech, a manipulative “whoa is me” break down, ANYthing to get you to change your mind because, well let’s be honest, you usually do. We are essentially re-parenting our kids, some as adults, and teaching them how to treat us. This does not come easy. I had to dig deep to find the empathy for my son and his current situation. Even though he had put himself there, even though he had messed up, once again, and I was bursting with anger and disappointment, or fear, or just plain “this AGAIN?!” – I HAD to find that empathy for a person who struggles to love himself enough to just ‘get it together’ – I let him finish his thought, take a deep breath, tell him how sorry I am for his current situation, that I love him so much, but will not help him out of it. I no longer let my anxiety and fear drive my responses to him. ANGER is an outward expression of anxiety, fear and frustration. I had to learn that I was not angry with my son, I was afraid for him.

The INNER Tone

The last tone I’m in the process of changing is the tone I use with myself. This is the hardest one! Until I started paying attention, I had no idea just how critical I am … to ME. So when my brain starts going down the “guilt” path, which is usually triggered by my lovingly telling Dylan no, I HAVE to stop it. I question myself, my way of being a parent to an addict ALL the time. My confidence in doing the right thing is always waning. For a long time I said “if a professional, who knew exactly what to do would just tell me how to handle this, I would do it!” The problem is, short of having a professional drug counselor or therapist walk through life with me, there’s just no way for that to happen. The key for me has been books. I’ve read all I can find. I keep one on my night stand so when the anxiety-fueled inner voice starts, usually before bed, I grab my book and begin to read. It not only distracts me, but reiterates to me what I already know; that I did the right thing. Saying no (with love), forcing my son to figure life out (like the rest of us) is the ONLY way he’ll learn to stand on his own two feet. And THAT’s the greatest act of love a parent can give.

Is this picture tough to see? How does it make you feel? Sad? Mad? Indifferent? It has rattled my world since I came across it 2 days ago. So much so, I haven’t been able to make sense of the whirlwind swirling around in my mind – it’s felt chaotic, restless … insane. I’ve felt sad at times, with tears, very angry, with tears, and confused. I’ve, once again, second guessed my ability to “love” my son. My absence at such a horrible time for him – the fact that he woke up in a hospital room, looking like this, with other pretty major medical issues from exposure (he had been knocked out and left in the sun for hours), dehydration, infection … I mean God must have a plan for him, right? I keep telling myself that but as I type this, those pitiful eyes are staring at me screaming “help”. How is there nothing I can do? Should I be bringing him home and caring for him as if he were disabled? Should I be giving up my life to make his as comfortable as possible until he eventually kills himself? At least he’d be doing it here, with me, right? At least he’d KNOW he was loved.

This is all it takes for us mama’s to seemingly lose everything we’ve worked years to gain. A picture. A phone call from a hospital or jail. Why? Because we too are addicts. Just like our children; only our drug of choice? …. Them.

There was a time I would have allowed my marriage, my job, my relationships, my finances, even my health be destroyed to try and save my son. Nothing could stop my effort. I was so obsessed about saving him, so one-track minded about keeping him sober that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me … an addict using my love to continue using. The very definition of insanity because I continued to repeat the same toxic behaviors over and over, knowing they wouldn’t work.

That’s the picture to me – to us – that’s our “trigger”. Once that seed is planted, it grows quickly. It’s our job to either keep watering it or pull it out by the roots. It’s been 2 days of wrestling with my mind – 2 days of insanity – 2 days of watering the seed and allowing it to grow. 2 days of this situation affecting every other aspect of my life. The beauty in all this? The more you work on you, the stronger you become when you need to pull the growing thought out by the roots. There was a time it seemed impossible. Now, it seems inevitable.

So what are you waiting for? Get to gardening girl!

It seems so strange to “have a life” beyond my son’s struggles. For far too long my happiness, my day, my way of being in this world, was solely dependent on how he was doing. His struggles became my pain. His choices became my problem. His chaos became my downfall.

If it weren’t for a job that knows me beyond this “rocky road”, a supportive husband, and honestly, a relationship with God, I would’ve lost a lot more during this time. In fact, I may have lost it all.

It took me until the Spring of 2017 (about a year into this addiction-life with my son) to see a therapist. Until then, like most women, I survived this. Did what I had to do. Who has the time or money for a therapist anyway? I mean really. I’d already missed too much work, between school meetings, psychiatry for him, Doctor appointments, complete chaos, and sometimes just total mental exhaustion. That brings me to my “end” time. The moment I knew that what I was dealing with was more than I could handle. Not Dylan, not HIS addiction, no, this moment in time was ALL about me.

It started about 2 weeks earlier. I woke up with the normal knot in my stomach, tip-toed past his door and whispered “God, let him be asleep”. I ever-so-slowly and softly stepped down the stairs, got my coffee and let the dog out. While I turned on the shower and laid out clothes for work, I started scrolling through Facebook. I don’t remember now who it was, but an “RIP” post came up. My news feed was filled with comments about this person’s life and how much they would be missed, taken too soon, etc. I remember my first thought, “well at least they’re out of pain.” My mind flashed to Dylan’s gunshot evening and I wondered if I could get the gun back from the neighbor who was holding it for us without my husband knowing. (After Dylan shot himself, we gave all guns, hunting included, to a neighbor/friend to hold). This thought was in my mind no more than a second before anxiety washed over me and I pushed it away. I think I actually physically shook my head. It scared me that it would even BE a thought in my mind.

Driving to work that morning, driving my car off the interstate fluttered through my thoughts. I pictured my funeral, my family, and what I would leave behind. But still, I shook off these thoughts quickly because they scared me. I was intuitive enough to know that what I had experienced the last year was causing havoc in my mental health. Understandably. And nothing I can’t handle.

Over the next week these “ending it” thoughts came more and more. Each time, the “daydream” would get longer, go further and more elaborate, until I was picturing my husband moving on in life without me, and I saw him happy. Before I realized it, thoughts of suicide had went from scary to welcomed. They became fantasies that zapped anxiety away because knowing I could end my life and have no more suffering was such a relief to me! This had become my way out.

Had we still possessed that hand gun, I KNOW I wouldn’t be here.

That’s what I need you to know. That time in my life seemed impossible to navigate. The sun did not shine. I don’t know that I actually smiled for a year. It felt hopeless, I felt alone, and there was no end in sight … until I made one.

I can’t let this happen to you. Why is it that we women choose to suffer alone? We don’t want to “bother” anyone, or feel like we’re complaining or “whining” … Well guess what? Sometimes in life, a little wine goes a long way 😉 So I decided to pay someone to listen to me whine – my therapist.
Best decision I made for me during all of this. I still regularly go and it’s because we all need someone outside of our circle, outside of ourSELVES to talk to. We are much too close to this situation to see it clearly.

So, if you’re feeling lost, dark, sad, angry, chaotic, alone … I’m not saying you must get a therapist (although I highly recommend it), but please, get on a blog, a support group, find a way to connect with strangers who share your pain… reach out to me – I’m always here. It helps. It saved my life.

And always remember, a little whine goes a long way 🙂