Recovery Through Love. No Anesthesia. No Bullshit. 🥰
A quiet moment on the beach turns into a reckoning with grief, not just for people lost, but for the version of myself that disappeared with sobriety. This is about mourning an old identity, honoring what it gave me, and choosing a truer life without pretending the grief ever fully ends.
A Christmas letter to my estranged daughters. This year cracked me open in the best possible way — therapy, bipolar treatment, transformation. I’m not the same person I was. I’m not asking them to forget the past. I’m asking for a future where we get to find out who we’ve all become. I miss them…
Do something every day that scares you. I mean it. Vulnerability isn’t weakness — it’s the whole damn engine. It’s where love, intimacy, shame-death, and real change live. Brené Brown nailed it over and over, so I’m sharing my favorites here alongside what I know to be true from my own life: when you can…