For the Women of Hope community, fighting to stay sober and recover
Letting go was forfeiting my need to be some part of their savior.
We woke to crashing and movement of furniture. I quickly ran upstairs and listened at my daughters door. She was screaming, "Let me out of here!" With caution, I approached her door and began to turn the handle. It wasn't locked, I'm not even sure it has a lock. There was my daughter, on her knees, fighting the lockless handle, to escape her room.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw us in that bathroom, her eyes closed and mine filled with pain. Will she ever know the depths of my love? Who knew God would use a moment blow drying her hair to bring about a profound reminder of hope.
You cannot love others as yourself if you do not love yourself first.
Addiction is a battle we fight within though it is outwardly instigated. As a mother I question everything I say, think, feel, and do because someone out there thinks, says, feels, and does whatever they please.
Time would heal my wounds, and courage would eventually merge the pieces of my soul. Before God was my everything, I was a floating vessel in search of solid ground.
The impact of addiction on a family is substantial.
No, I am not a hero. My experiences are cringe-worthy. Navigating God's purpose in the aftermath isn't always easy. Who am I, and why me?
The state and federal prison systems are no place to tackle the mental illness crisis plaguing our country. They exacerbate the problems. If someone already feels isolated, suicidal, anxiety-prone, or hallucinogenic, imagine the escalation that happens behind bars.