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 have measured out my life in coffee spoons.” So goes the famous line from T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Some critics say it reflects how we spend much of our lives on ordinary tasks with little meaning. That’s not why I remember it. It’s a line I repeat often …
It creeps up somewhere between 2 and 3 a.m. Maybe some people are more prone to it. I’ve always been a worrier – and never worse than when my son’s abuse of alcohol and drugs overwhelmed his high school years. At first, I worried over what was wrong with him. Why was he so sullen? …