Some Basics For Building A Spiritual Practice To Support Your Recovery – Guest Post

I’m excited for you to read this guest post from a fellow recovery writer, Rose Lockinger. Every piece of her writing that I have read has been an inspiration to me; I think it will be for you, too.  Enjoy!

~Jami

praying

When I first got sober I was so confused about spirituality and religion. Having grown up with parents who were missionaries I was introduced from an early age to a religion that I didn’t understand and a God that I felt was rather impersonal to me. I thought that most religious people were hypocrites and at the time I had trouble separating the idea of religion from God. I had finally hit my bottom both emotionally and spiritually and for me rock bottom was a beautiful place to start my new life.

To me God, and religion were synonymous and to separate the two was blasphemous and impossible. But then I was introduced to some simple ideas when I first got sober that really helped me to get over a lot of my resentments towards God and start to build a spiritual practice of my own.

The first thing that was introduced to me that was revolutionary to my way of thinking was that I could have my own relationship with God. This relationship meant that I could relate to God the way that I wanted to and that I didn’t have to talk to him, or her if you like, in thousand year old prayers that I didn’t understand. I could talk to God the way that I wanted to.

I was also introduced to the idea that no two people can have the same relationship with God, so any way that I chose to partake in this relationship was fine. I remember the first time that I heard this, I was blown away. The person said to me, think of it this way. You have a relationship with your mother and your father has a relationship with your mother as well. Your mother is the same person, but the way that the two of you relate to her is very different. This was something that I could get behind and it helped me to break some old thoughts that I had about God and create new ones that made more sense to me.

One of the first spiritual practices that I started to do was prayer. In the beginning they were very simple prayers and that was all that was needed. I would wake up in the morning and ask God to help keep me sober throughout the day and when I went to bed at night I would say thank you God for keeping me sober.

My sponsor told me that was all that was necessary for me to make a start. I didn’t have to have long drawn out conversation with him, or speak in tongues, but rather I could just say please help and thank you.

From this point my prayer life has evolved over the years but the basics remain the same, I speak to God like he is a friend and I don’t make things too formal. Sometimes I get on my knees to pray but most of the time I do not and I believe that God is okay with that.

Another spiritual practice that I began to integrate into my life was meditation. I will admit that I am not the best with this one and my meditation practice is sporadic at best, but when I do meditate I once again try to keep it simple.

In the beginning I could not sit quietly for very long and so I would try to meditate for just 5 minutes at a time. I would go on YouTube and find five minute meditation music and then I would sit and focus on my breathing. This is a very simple practice to incorporate into your life and the benefits of meditation are widely documented by psychologists and doctors.

Another great spiritual practice to help support my recovery is journaling, or inventory taking depending on how you look at it. On the surface this may not seem like a spiritual practice, but I assure you that it is. Not only does journaling act as a form of meditation, because writing actually slows the mind down, but the basis behind journaling is self honesty, which is among the most basic of spiritual principles.

The ability to accurately see yourself and your actions is a great way to grow as a person and in your relationship with God, because I believe that we cannot relate to God as someone other than who we are. This is why for so many years I could never feel his presence because I was always attempting to be someone else. I was dishonest and caught up in my addiction and so I couldn’t see to find him.

Lastly, and this is an important spiritual practice to try to incorporate into your recovery, is helping others. Helping other people, whether that is in recovery or out of recovery is just about the most spiritual thing that a human being can do. The act of giving of yourself not only makes you feel good, because altruism does feel good, but it also gives you purpose and direction. Purpose and direction is something that many of us lacked when we were in our addictions, and I found mine in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous by helping other people. Helping others makes me feel closer to God and I always sleep better at night when I know I have helped someone that day.

If you are just making a start in your recovery and you are worried about building a spiritual practice of your own, remember to just take it easy and keep it simple. Spirituality does not need to be complicated. You don’t need to meditate for an hour a day and perform rituals to talk to God, but you can simple just talk and sit quiet for as long as you can. These are the things that I did in the beginning and they really work, so give them a try and you’ll be surprised at the outcome.

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roseRose Lockinger is a passionate member of the recovery community. A rebel who found her cause, she uses blogging and social media to raise the awareness about the disease of addiction. She has visited all over North and South America. Single mom to two beautiful children she has learned parenting is without a doubt the most rewarding job in the world. Currently the Outreach Director at Stodzy Internet Marketing.

You can find Rose on LinkedIn, Facebook, & Instagram

 

A Must Read for Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse

A must read for survivors of childhood sexual traumaI read another great memoir, and I want to tell you about it. Hungry for Touch, A Journey from Fear to Desire, by Laureen Peltier, is a book that chronicles Laureen’s treatment for PTSD. Let me start by saying that this is not an easy book to read. In fact, some parts are just downright heartbreaking and painful. I found that I had to read it in small doses, and still I became emotional while reading it, more than a handful of times.

So you might be wondering why I am recommending this book, if it’s such a difficult read. The reasons are many: it’s real and honest; it gets to the heart of what sexual trauma, PTSD, and therapy feel like; it’s relatable; and ultimately, it’s hopeful. Those things outweigh the tough time I had reading it, by far.

“How does it make me feel? The memory is so old, almost thirty years have gone by, but it still seems like yesterday. It’s the kind of memory I store in one of those chests at the bottom of my mind, but now I can’t seem to put it back.”

The way that Laureen describes the memory of her childhood trauma, and subsequent breakdown, is so familiar to me. I also had a long period of time where I was able to stuff negative memories far away from my consciousness, and then, all of a sudden I couldn’t do it anymore. That’s when the wheels came off for me, when I absolutely had to deal with the past or let it slowly suck the life out of me.

Laureen’s story is different from mine, she became unable to allow any man to touch her as a result of her abuse. In my own story, I ended up at the other end of the spectrum–promiscuity. Both results stem from a need to feel in control, I think; something that neither of us had previously. But both are destructive to the soul and needed treatment.

Hungry for Touch takes us through Laureen’s treatment, alternating with her memories of the past. Reading of her abuse was disturbing and saddening. No one should have to go through what she did, especially a young child. Her treatment was a mix of traditional EMDR therapy along with some unconventional therapies that she and her doctor collaborated on. It wasn’t an easy road to get started on, despite Laureen’s desperate wish for healing and mental health. In the beginning she said this about not being able to let go:

“But I don’t know how to let go. I only know how to hold on: hold onto the pain, hold onto the fear, hold onto the lies. This is the cage I’ve built for myself. It’s a safe and secure cage. I know every corner of it, and I know I can’t be harmed in it because I won’t let anyone inside with me.”

That fear of letting go is often so strong that keeping ourselves imprisoned in it seems like a better option than risking dealing with it and having an unknown outcome. But, with hesitation at times, Laureen presses on and continues her treatment, striving toward her goal of completing it and letting go of her fear of physical touch.

As I said, this is a book that ultimately offers readers hope. It’s tough to read, but it’s definitely worth it. Keep in mind that it may bring up emotions and triggers if you are a survivor of this type (or any, really) of trauma. Read with care–for yourself and for all of the others who have gone through sexual abuse.

You can buy Hungry for Touch here.

Getting Through Brief Dips

A couple of weeks ago I had a week that really sucked. Ok, not the whole week, but at least a few days. I was grumpy with PMS, I screwed up some writing I did, my house was a mess, and I was having a lot of anxiety. I was exhausted and overwhelmed and my inclination was to close the blinds, shut down, and hide. That’s not what I did, but it’s what I wanted to do.

I was in a “brief dip,” and I was uncomfortable.

My stepson’s counselor introduced me to the term “brief dip” a while back. It refers to when you’re facing some sort of challenge to the status quo and you have to deal with the discomfort of negative emotions. It’s learning to sit with those feelings, and feel them, without trying to stuff or ignore them. The counselor was talking about them in reference to my stepson, telling us how important it is to allow him to go through these brief dips without us intervening to fix things or telling him to get over it.

The concept of sitting with negative feelings and dealing with them rather thanDip sign stuffing, isn’t new to me. I learned a lot about it in treatment, and I have gotten better about putting it into practice. But, as I sat and listened to the counselor talk about it, I realized that the reason I had so much trouble with it (enough that it contributed to my active alcoholism) was that it was something I never learned when I was my stepson’s age.

When I was a kid, brief dips weren’t really allowed in my house. Either my parents fixed things for us kids, distracted us so we were able to ignore negative feelings, or told us to get over it. Any of you who read my blog regularly know that I don’t have a relationship with my family at all now, and that my relationship with my mom growing up was always contentious. However, I think that she did the best she could with the knowledge she had at the time; she just didn’t want any of us kids to be uncomfortable–ever. I get that now. That doesn’t mean that I don’t wish I had been taught to deal with my negative feelings earlier, but I don’t blame my mom for wanting her kids to feel happy all the time, I think that probably all parents want that.

That fact is though, that we can’t be happy all  the time, and I certainly wasn’t a couple of weeks ago. It was a crappy week, and I wanted to check out. The only upside was that now I have a name for times like that–brief dips. I like that because it reminds me that it isn’t permanent, or even long-lasting. It’s brief. And it’s just a dip, it’s not bottomless. I just had to deal with the feelings, continue to put one foot in front of the other, and keep going, and I would emerge on the other side. And that’s exactly what happened. Did I suffer a little while I was down? Yes (and I’m sure my husband and stepson did too). Do I wish that it hadn’t happened at all? Yes. But I’ve noticed that my brief dips are not as bad as they used to be, and I never stay down and depressed like I used to. That tells me that I am making progress, and that’s what counts.

 

 

Recovering, or Recovered? Which am I?

It’s been nearly four years since I took my last drink of alcohol, and since that time I have been to literally hundreds of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. It’s customary to introduce yourself before you speak at a meeting. I always say, “Hi, I’m Jami and I’m an alcoholic.” Some people introduce themselves differently, but it’s usually something close to that. A handful of times over the years, I have heard people refer to themselves as a “recovered alcoholic,” and my first thought is usually that they just don’t get it – no matter how long they have been sober. I’m probably wrong about that in some cases, they may very well stay sober and happy until the day they die. I know that people practice recovery differently, and that what works for me doesn’t necessarily work for everyone. Even my husband and I have a different way of approaching the program, and we’re both still sober.

The problem that I have with using recovered instead of recovering is that it makes it Unending Roadsound final, like it’s done and over and can no longer affect me – like the chicken pox: I had it once, I recovered, and I’ll never get it again. It implies that you can be returned to the person you were before, and for me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You see, being a recovering person instead of recovered one, hasn’t returned me to who I was before alcoholism, and it isn’t something that has ended and no longer affects me. It is something that goes on. Forever. I will always be in recovery, and I’m good with that, for several reasons.

One, I know that I am not cured of alcoholism. I’ve been given a daily reprieve and I have to remain diligent to not return to where I was when I was drinking actively. I know that if I grow complacent, and think that I am recovered and that alcohol no longer poses a risk to me, I’m in danger. While I no longer worry day-to-day that I am going to relapse, I am very aware that booze is still out there and that if I have even one drink it’s game on. Recovering, rather than recovered, keeps me on my toes.

Two, recovering means that I am a work in progress and that I have the luxury of continuing to work on myself, strengthening those things about me that are positive, and improving the things that challenge me. Believing that I am still recovering fosters my desire for self-awareness. It keeps me engaged in becoming a better person, not just a sober one.

Three, recovering rather than recovered keeps me right-sized. As long as I remember that I am not over this alcoholism thing, and that I am no better or worse than every newcomer and old-timer, I don’t run the risk of self-righteousness or self-loathing. Those are two things that plagued me when I was drinking and recovering keeps me away from them.

Lastly, recovering rather than recovered reminds me that I don’t have all of the answers. I still need help no matter how many days I put between me and my last drink. It’s what makes it more comfortable than it used to be to ask for help when I need it. It’s why I have a sponsor and go to meetings. It’s what makes me part of a huge fellowship of strong and courageous people.

I think, what it boils down to is that recovering, instead of recovered, is what works for me. It may just be semantics, but it puts me in the right mindset to continue on the path of sobriety and recovery. I find joy and strength and health in the process of recovering.

So, I think I’ll stay right here recovering. Forever, God willing.

Every Moment of a Fall – A Review

I love reading memoirs. I would say that they make up about 90% of the books I read. I think I love them so much because, since being in recovery, I’ve learned the importance of sharing stories. Hearing the stories that others have to tell helps me heal, and I hope that others hearing mine helps them in the same way.

I recently read Carol E. Miller’s Every Moment of a Fall, A Memoir of Recovery Through EMDR Therapy, about her PTSD recovery, and I am again amazed at the relief and healing that EMDR offers. It immediately took me back to several years ago when I was going through my own round of EMDR therapy to help with my recovery.

Although Carol’s story of trauma and mine are completely different, there is still a lot that I can relate to as she goes through the process of recovery. Her trauma was caused when the airplane being piloted by her father, and carrying her family, crashed. Carol was the only one to go unscathed physically; her mother and father were badly injured, and her sister was killed. She suffered a lot of guilt and shame being the only one uninjured, and even blamed herself for the crash for a long time.

The trauma that caused my PTSD was rape and physical abuse, so like I said–completely different from Carol’s. The feelings that we both had after are surprisingly similar though. We both suffered with our feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing. We both tried to self-medicate to control the symptoms of PTSD that we were experiencing without knowing or understanding what was causing them. And out of sheer desperation, we both turned to EMDR skeptically because we didn’t know what else to do.

Every Moment of a Fall takes you through Carol’s experience with PTSD and EMDR therapy. She briefly talks about the mechanics of how EMDR works and what happens in the brain, but through her narration, you are able to see and feel what it is really like to go through the process. Little by little, as Carol works on healing, you can see the positive changes that are taking place in her–self-awareness, self-compassion, and self-worth. Her accounting of her EMDR work is honest and real, and she demonstrates that while it is possible, recovery isn’t something that happens overnight, that it takes time, patience, and perseverance.

This isn’t just a book for people with PTSD (although it will undoubtedly help them), or people considering EMDR. It’s a book for anyone who wants to find comfort and hope in the stories of others. I highly recommend it.

You can buy Carol’s book here.

Know Thyself – But Is It Enough?

The other day, my husband, stepson and I were in the car, coming home from shopping, and we were having a discussion about why we each behave the way we do. I’m not sure how exactly we got on this subject, but that often seems to be the way that important conversations start. My stepson, whose intellect is far beyond his eleven years (even though his behavior and emotional age are happily in line with his chronological age), spoke of a situation in which he acted in a less than favorable way. He said, “I know myself, I knew what was going to happen.” He went on to say that knowing what’s going to happen doesn’t always stop his bad behavior.

Isn’t that the truth? An eleven year old just summed up my whole drinking career in one sentence! Knowing what was going to happen when I drank, no matter bad, didn’t stop me from doing it. I would like to say that when I drank I was in denial about the negative consequences, that I really thought that each time I took that first sip of booze that, “this time will be different.” But I wasn’t in denial, I was in my right mind enough to know exactly what would happen – I would drink, I would do and say bad things, I might punch someone, wreck a car, or get arrested. And yet, I drank.

The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous says,

“The actual or potential alcoholic, with hardly an exception, will be absolutely unable to stop drinking on the basis of self-knowledge. This is a point we wish to emphasize and re-emphasize, to smash home upon our alcoholic readers as it has been revealed to us out of bitter experience.”

Big Book, Fourth Edition; Alcoholics Anonymous, pg. 39

So, clearly Bill and Bob knew that self-knowledge wasn’t enough to help the alcoholic get and stay sober, and I agree. It wasn’t for me. For me it took treatment (twice!), completely removing myself from my regular life, removing triggers and access to booze, to get sober. And then it took a lot of work – the steps with a sponsor, learning honesty, acceptance, and forgiveness – to stay sober. You know what else it took? Yep, you guessed it. Self-knowledge.

Isn’t it funny how that works? The very thing that wasn’t ever going to get me sober is the very thing that I need to stay sober. I had to delve into those parts of me that I didn’t want to know and get acquainted. I had to look closely and carefully at my motivations for just about everything. I had to learn what made me tick. At times, it felt like I was meeting someone new, a stranger who I needed to get to know. Sometimes it was scary and sometimes it was comforting, but getting to know myself was the key to being able to change those parts of me that needed changing to be able tIs self knowledge enough to get and stay sober? o live a life that is happy, joyous, and free.

These days, I feel like I know myself pretty well. The things that I say and do and feel no longer surprise me. That isn’t to say that I don’t screw things up from time to time, I do. The difference now is that I am usually able to understand why I screwed up, and I am quick to try to fix it, and learn from it, so that when a similar situation comes up again – and it will – that I have enough awareness to react differently.

So no, self-knowledge may not be enough to get an alcoholic sober, but it is just what I need to stay sober and be happy.

I’m not sure that my stepson realized how insightful he was about knowing himself, but not really knowing what to do with the knowledge. What I do know, is that I will be there to help him figure it out along the way. And I can do that because I know me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A New Freedom

Happy 4th of July! It’s a day that we celebrate freedom, and for me that means reflecting on the things that used to enslave me, from which I’m now free. The biggest of which is active alcoholism. Issue-17-Final-Cover-244x300

I wrote an article for Step 12 Magazine, which they were kind enough to make their cover story for the July/August edition. You can download the issue for free and read my article “A New Freedom”(pg. 6) here. Step 12 Magazine is a publication for people in recovery, and it’s been helpful to me–it might be for you too.

Today, as you spend time with family and friends, and tonight as you watch fireworks exploding into beautiful bright shooting stars, take some time to remember what freedom means to you.

The Painting and the Piano – A Must Read

The Painting and the Piano, by John Lipscomb and Adrianne Lugo hit very close to home for me. In this book, the authors each tell their own stories of abusive mothers, addiction, recovery, and finally love, in alternating chapters that captured my attention and held it until the end. I think that every addict and alcoholic, recovering or not, will find John and Adrianne’s stories relatable and full of hope. I know that I did.

I love a good memoir — and if it’s about recovery, it’s even better. So I was excited when I was asked if I would read The Painting and the Piano and write about my thoughts about it. The Painting and the PianoIt’s like reading two memoirs that seamlessly come together at the end. Technically, it’s well written and engaging. But enough of that, I read books for the way they make me feel, not the technical junk. And this book made me feel…well, a lot of things.

At times, the stories were disturbing. Adrianne’s detailed the abuse she suffered from her biological, addict mother after being torn from her foster parents, who had raised her. Every strike that she wrote about made me flinch. John’s feelings regarding his alcoholic mother were heartbreaking and sad. While my own mother was neither physically abusive or an alcoholic, our relationship was always contentious and emotionally abusive, so I definitely feel for what they went through. It also caused me to think about what it must’ve been like for my husband, who grew up with an alcoholic mother and a father who covered for her, similar to John’s parents. John’s feeling of helplessness when he says, “I have no control over the adults in my life — especially Mom — or my fate,” really says it all, doesn’t it? Both John and Adrianne grew up feeling like they couldn’t control anything. I get that, for sure.

“My loudest wails and greatest despair is for the young son and daughter who’ve escaped me for all the same reasons I wanted to escape mother.”   ~John

“I can’t believe I’ve become the woman I’ve spent my life hating.”  ~Adrianne

 

Both John and Adrianne became addicts despite the fact that neither of them wanted to be anything like their mothers. The difference between them and their mothers though, is that they sought help. They wanted to live differently than they were, and they did something about it. Sadly, neither of their mothers were able to do the same.

The descriptions of addiction that John and Adrianne share are so true to me. When Adrianne opts to make a trip home to get her pills, while her daughter writhes in pain, instead of going straight to the hospital, I understand what that felt like. Addiction is priority, even over those we love. Adrianne’s guilt and shame triggered memories in me so much that I had to stop and say a prayer of thanksgiving that I no longer have to live that way. John describes alcoholism like this:

“It was slow at first, barely noticeable, but alcoholism is a progressive disease. It’s like a storm gaining strength, spinning faster and faster, its center tightening and accelerating, pulling me deeper into it, away from my life.” 

That’s just how it is! I couldn’t have said it better.

The two separate stories become one when John and Adrianne meet and embark on a friendship that slowly evolves into more. It’s a beautiful story that reminds me of my husband and me. We met in recovery and have built a life together that we never thought we would have.

I won’t give anymore away about The Painting and the Piano, but I will say this: whether you are in recovery or not, you should read this book. It’s heartbreaking but inspiring, and it allows its readers to witness the miracle that recovery from addiction is.

Buy the book here. I really hope you do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Should Stop Shoulding Myself

I’ve been reading a book about self-compassion. It talks about the fact that most of us don’t extend the same amount of compassion and kindness to ourselves that we do to others. The reasons for this are many – the way we were spoken to when we were growing up, life experiences that caused us to feel shame, feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness…the list goes on. Whatever the reason we are hard on ourselves, it’s something that breaks us down and deprives us of joy. I know this to be true for me.

The good news is, this brokenness that we inflict upon ourselves can be mended, and learning to have self-compassion can help.

I’m only half-way through the book, but one thing that has already had a profound effect on me is the idea that part of being compassionate toward myself means I have to change the way I talk to myself. Not the silly way I talk to myself out loud when no one is around (that is endlessly entertaining!), but the way that my internal self-talk admonishes and berates me when I don’t live up to the standards I set for myself. If you struggle with being kind to yourself, you know what I mean. Maybe your inner voice calls you names, or insults you. Maybe it belittles or makes fun of you. My inner voice doesn’t call me names or make fun of me; it shoulds me. A lot. And what it says always has an unspoken implication.

“You should have written that post three days ago.” (This tells me I’m unproductive)

“You shouldn’t eat so much.” (This tells me I’m fat)

“You should get off of your butt and do something!” (This tells me I’m lazy)

My inner voice is constantly aware of my faults and failures, and it lets me know by telling me what I should do, or what I should’ve done. It seems that my inner voice is far wiser than I am.

What I have to remember is that my inner voice isn’t an entity of its own. It’s me. It’s me being more critical and disapproving with myself than I ever would be with someone else. Ugh. Why do I do that? I shouldn’t do….

OOPS! See how easy it is for me to should myself?!

I’m working on it though. I am trying to be mindful when I start shoulding myself. I’ve been amazed at just how often that word runs through my mind! When it does, I stop what I’m doing, make note of what I’m down Honey
on myself about, and I think of a more positive way to deal with it. And you know what? It’s starting to work. When I bully myself about something with shoulds and shouldn’ts, it rarely causes me to change my behavior to what it should be. However, when I meet my shortcomings with self-compassion, I’ve found that I am more likely to feel motivated to change it, or fix it, or get it done.

Amazing how that works, isn’t it?!

I knew that to be true when dealing with others. You know, it’s the whole catching flies with honey thing. But it turns out that it works when dealing with myself too! When I treat myself with compassion, I feel better, I get more done, I have more joy, I am happier.

I should’ve known that, shouldn’t I?

Ugh.

Still working on it…

 

Don’t Stuff the Birthday Blues

Yesterday my husband and I had a discussion about stuffing emotions, and whether or not there is a difference between stuffing and just telling ourselves that those thoughts and feelings may be real, but it isn’t doing any good to wallow in them. It’s a fine line, I think, and when I am struggling with an uncomfortable emotion, I’m often not sure which one I’m doing. My husband’s thought about it that is that it depends on what your self-talk is saying about it. Are you telling yourself to suck it up, that you can’t think about that? Or are you telling yourself that these feelings are there, but there isn’t anything you can change about it?

The conversation that started this was about the fact that it’s my daughter’s birthday today and I’m sad. If you’re a reader of my blog, you may remember that my daughter and I are estranged; we have been for nearly five years. Holidays and her birthday are hard (I suspect they always will be) because I always wish that we were together. It’s not that I don’t miss her everyday, I do, but special days amplify my longing.

So, yesterday I wasn’t sure if I was stuffing my emotions or not. I told my husband I was feeling sad, but when he pressed for more, I didn’t have anything else to add. It was the same as always — little snippets of happy times that I had with my daughter flashing through my mind, willy nilly. That’s all. And that’s what it always is, so why talk about it? I think there’s a saying about a dead horse that applies here. At least that’s how I usually feel about the situation. Is that stuffing?

Actually, thinking about it today, I think it was. The reason I say that is because later in the evening last night, I gave in to the emotion. I let myself cry, and I said out loud, “I miss her so much.” My husband hugged me and held me for a while. I didn’t have to say anything else, I didn’t have to discuss every memory that was in my head, I just had to actually feel the feeling…let it take hold for a minute. I didn’t have to wallow, but I did have to acknowledge what I was feeling, whether I liked it or not. But then, after I took some ibuprofen and a hot bath, I felt some relief.

Some.

I woke up this morning and the sadness was still there. I haven’t cried today, but I’m not stuffing it…I’m writing this post.

Happy Birthday, Kari. I love you.

19th birthday