When addiction first crept into our household 11 years ago, I started keeping a journal. Retreating to clean white paper became my refuge. The blank pages stared back, non-judgmental and welcoming. On their unvarnished surface I poured out my anguish, fear, confusion and shame. It was the only place – until many years later – …
Wash your hands, the experts say, again and again and again. Flu has permeated South Florida. Surrounded by my son’s friends, many in long-term recovery, it makes me wonder. What is someone with an addiction to painkillers or alcohol supposed to do when a hacking cough keeps them up at night? Or a fever? Or …
It is January and I am again ensconced in South Florida. This is the annual visit – almost a retreat – to live in my son’s neighborhood and soak up, not so much the sun, but his nearness. With his invitation my husband and I attend one of his weekly meetings. It is an otherwise …