3.5 years. Two hospitalizations. One note that said “Get help” on an empty bedroom door. This is the story of my estrangement from my daughters, what I had to burn down to become someone worth coming back to, and how I found my way back to them. This is not a highlight reel. This is…
I woke up crying with unrelenting grief and the kind of guilt that doesn’t fade with insight or healing. Some choices can’t be undone. Some love breaks beyond repair. Dancing to Over My Head at high tide became the only honest response. No rescue. No repair. Just pressure, accountability, and the choice to live differently…
This piece was written after avoidance failed and accountability became unavoidable. Behind Old Bellingham City Hall, with the bass of Drowning in the Drip grounding me in my body, I stayed present with the harm I caused, the consequences I earned, and the amends I am making without asking for forgiveness. This is not a…