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 – …
I’ve always admired journalists. A journalist who spends years researching a difficult subject – sacrificing personal time with a ferociousness to educate the rest of us – is someone to admire even more. That’s how I felt recently when I met Beth Macy, author of “Dopesick,” at a charitable event in Washington DC. Other journalists …
How many times did I say this as my son grew up? How often did I repeat them in the troubled days of his active addiction, sometimes at the worst times? I recall saying it the evening my husband and I returned from a meeting at the high school where Jacob’s advisor warned us: your …