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Showing posts from 2020

The Marathon of My Life

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I wrote one of those feel good #throwbackthursdays this morning on reminding ourselves we can do hard things by remembering the impossible things we’ve done. A true testament to all the therapy and life coaching and healing and work I have put in these last 4 years. But it also carried that flair of “everything just magically got better after this slight set back/low point.” So, I’m calling bullshit on myself and going to elaborate a little more. These images, as powerful and inspiring as they may seem, are reminders of deep pain. I see a woman running herself into the ground. I see hurt that can’t be masked long enough by the joy of accomplishment. I see how thin she has become. I am worried for her. And I should be. The night before this race I had a major break down. I had just found out my kids insurance hadn’t been renewed. I now know all these years later that this happens at renewal time for Medicaid ALL the effing time, because those DFCS offices are understaffed and underfunde

I used to be a meth addict

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15 years ago I was a meth addict. More specifically, I smoked what was commonly referred to as Ice. And I loved it. Before I jump right into how that all came about, let’s back up a bit. To know my story is to know that I was 19 before my first alcohol-induced blackout. A gift bestowed upon me by a man that stole me away from my life, and quickly learned he could control me with alcohol. I was a quick study on checking the hell out of my life, even better if it tasted sweet. After I escaped his clutches, by no less than a miracle, I was lost. Like a starving and desolate pup dropped by the side of the road looking for any scraps or refuge. Be careful what you seek, for you will find it. Or it will find you. This is where I tell you that drugs saved my life. Not an exaggeration. They did. The people that brought them into my life also saved me. I had no idea how to survive the hell I emerged from, and drugs helped me. We will call this the “trauma self-medication” years. Time is shady a

Becoming the Warrior

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I couldn’t sleep last night, I imagine I’m not alone with this dilemma right now. My brain was ON, my thoughts speeding through like a runaway freight train. Weird imagery, I know.  So, there I was not sleeping, partly because of my own thinking and anxieties, partly due to my youngest’s nightmare cycle. I tried reading, breathing, praying, meditating. I lay there with my eyes closed willing myself to sleep, when my brain lit up. Words began tumbling in, and as they do, trying to push their way out. My fingers itched to type. What arrived landed heavy, and I knew why they landed. It’s been 1 year since I experienced a significant social loss that was directly related to my sobriety. One year since the moment I learned that sober doesn’t equate healthiness, or emotional sobriety. More importantly, it was this event that taught me how often I allowed myself to be a victim. I learned the hard way that boundaries are for those we love, just as much as they are for strangers. It is a lesson

Quitting the Hustle

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You know what radical self love is, it’s waking up 37 years young and realizing that not only can you NOT be all the things to everybody...but you don’t want to. You can't do everything, to-do lists are mostly bullshit, and expectations are a sure fire way to develop resentments. Logically, rationally, I can tell you all the things I should be doing right now. The list I can come up with would make most list lovers cringe. Why? Because I think my to-do list is achievable daily. My brain believes that I am supposed to be doing all the things, all the time. Unfortunately, that’s not how that works. Research suggests that, at most, lists can include 2-3 tasks in them a day to be both achievable and non-shame inducing. Additionally, Dr. Bluma Zeigarnik first discussed the impact of unfinished tasks on our memory in 1938. We've known for awhile that long to-do lists are recipes for perceived failure. Fun fact: You will always do more than 3 things a day, you just might not have them

Hope is Scarred, Not Dead

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It was my misunderstanding and I was angry. In my sensitive state I heard his sigh following my big sigh and thought he was mocking me. He has, not that many days ago. It’s not a stretch to think he would make light of my feelings. He has, not that many days ago. I was wrong and harsh in my incorrect assessment. He became infuriated. Nasty words on both sides again tonight. Second time in 3 days. It’s rough over here y’all. I wrote I should let go, but forgave and found a new therapist after our last fight. I wonder how many more days, months, years I will allow this cycle. If you ask for a sign, get it, and ignore it...then you are the fool. But you know why I am really angry? Because I wanted to be held. I wanted a shoulder to cry on. I sat on that couch across from him and poured all my pain out and he never once came over to me. He says I can come sit by him or ask him. I don’t want to. I want to be held, and in the middle of my pain I want to be with someone that simply thinks to

Staying sober in a pandemic, what's in your toolbox?

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What a day...seriously. I started it with a message reminding me of my own recovery journey and a tarot reading that warned grief in my connection to others lay in this day. Of course I assumed that meant Covid19, but it didn’t. The universe had words to lay on my soul, and I recorded them. As I sat and rewatched my own message I realized that these words were meant for me, and to be shared. What we are experiencing right now is NOT NORMAL. It IS HARD. If not seemingly impossible and hopeless at times. This is what my brain wants me to believe. But my tools in my 2.5 year old toolbox (not sure why I call it toolkit in the video) tell me I can do the impossible. I’m not drunk during a pandemic. I’m not high. And today, I am alive. We don’t have to make this worse. We don’t have to numb. And we do not have to be alone. So today, if you see or hear or watch or read nothing else...know this: YOU ARE LOVED. I love you, so much. Blessed be, Dr. Jessica Need help, ask for it. O

So you think you know loneliness...

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When I was little, I thought being alone was awesome. No one to interrupt my favorite part in the story. I easily weaved my life around whether I felt like being around other people or not. A true introvert that require recharging after just enough socialization. As I grew up, I realized there were many layers to loneliness. There was the loneliness of being talked about behind your back, the loneliness of having a secret you cannot share, the loneliness of pain, the loneliness of hope. Loneliness can take the shape of a friend that doesn't answer your phone calls or texts or responds to emails once every six months. Loneliness is the family members that choose not to speak to you or talk only of themselves. Loneliness is not being heard or seen. Loneliness exists in the expectations of others.  I didn't know loneliness could exist with love. I knew that lack of love, and loss, could lead to lonely. But I thought love was a sacred place free of loneliness. After all, love