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 – …
Growing up, I had no idea how important it was. Not until I married, had children, and started a career did I appreciate the gift my parents had given me. My father was a master of the one-liner. Then I found it in my husband. Both children can sometimes make me laugh to tears. A …
I never doubted I was a good parent. Even during Jacob’s darkest days, I never thought I was in any way a “bad” mother. Mostly. When therapists told me addiction happens in the best of families, to children of the best parents, I tried hard to believe them. But that didn’t stop the ruminating. What …