I have trouble referring to myself as a woman in this grieving process (whatever that is) because I have felt more like a wounded child this past year than ever before.
I was an alcoholic when I got married. It took me a long time to admit it, but once I did, I committed to learning how to cope without numbing.
I discovered the concept of love addiction at a recovery conference. As I listened, I shuddered as I realized how many of the boxes I ticked.
After a hard break-up, making a choice to remain celibate for a while feels like the greatest act of self-love I could choose right now.
This week I turned 41. It’s a day I thought I’d never see. I was sure I would be dead by 25 the way I was living. Homeless at 21, due to the choices I was making, I didn’t feel I had or was even worthy of any other options.