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 – …
Buried on an inside page, the article was barely noticeable. When a pandemic takes over, there’s no space for other news. The headline on p.4 read: “Virus not sole factor for rise in US deaths.” Listed among the possible causes were falls, certain types of accidents around the house, and drug overdoses. Accurate data typically lags …
When my son was in active addiction I hated holidays. Mother’s Day was among the worst. Walking through town I passed families with teenagers, toddlers and baby carriages. My eye would catch a grandmother smiling beside her daughter, both women sporting painfully bright pink corsages or carrying a single, long-stemmed, red rose, or worse a …