A new trauma has struck, requiring a new version of silence and a new way to find my voice. Can I balance the part of silence that my grief requires against my need to not deny my voice? Only time will show me if I’ve learned.

I set myself aside I now realize years later. Shouldn’t our psyche’s be conscious of the moment we lost ourselves? Why did I fail me in the process?

Why didn’t I name my husband in my memoir? “Are you protecting him? Why not just make-up a name? Call him Bob or something?” No, protection has nothing to do with it.

There are no politics in addiction.

Kids living in an alcoholic family. Can they be spared the damage?

Dry January: Did You Know?

I Don’t Know Who I Used to Be

Shadow. The life of a woman.

Are we different people after life shreads us?