I had never heard of Nelsan Ellis when he was alive, but his death from alcohol addiction has touched me in a painful way. I think of my family members (and myself) and our battle with alcohol. I recall bloated faces, smiles that don’t hide physiological or psychological pain. The struggle against alcohol, a substance that is prevalent, socially accepted and imbedded into our culture is ever present is daunting.
Yesterday Carrie Fisher’s autopsy revealed a series of drugs from cocaine to heroin along with methadone- “the cure” for heroin addiction. Fisher was a woman who had everything from wealth to fame and beauty, yet she couldn’t overcome her drug addiction. Her life and her death are a testament to the hook of addiction. Yesterday, the face of addiction hit closer to home where one friend- a week out of
The Civil War had always been portrayed as a moral clash between a divided America. I did not know what I would see when I arrived at the battle field of Gettysburg. Nothing I knew about the Civil War had prepared me for what I saw and felt there. I had always imagined the battle field to be about the size of a football field with steep hilly inclines of hundreds
At a dark and low point of time in my life, years ago, I pondered whether life was worth living. My then therapist suggested that I read Viktor Frankl’s book “Man’s Search for Meaning.” Frankl’s book is about the power of hope and the will to live no matter the circumstances. Frankl a Jewish Austrian neuroscientist and psychiatrist during the Nazi persecution of 6 million Jews opted to go
Day 24: My future is truly free or freer from my past no matter how glorious I thought that past to be. My personal 30 day yoga challenge was not to end up looking svelte. ( I have been svelte.) This challenge was to explore my inner dialogue- for it is what has created my world, my life. I have spent hours in absolute silence. In that silence I have
Dear Friends and Readers, Life is moving at a seemingly fast and relentless pace, which is of course my doing. The last five months of work have been performed primarily to pay off a substantial debt which was created by my mismanagement of money. I realized almost two years ago when I wrote my first blog about my grandfather who was a gambler who gambled away his white walking cane,
Thirteen years ago, after an epiphany which occurred on a ferry crossing the Puget Sound, I heard the voice of “God” and decided to move to Washington D.C. instead of San Francisco. The voice said “Go back home and see if the family you ran away from when you were 15 are the same “monsters” you then believed them to be.” At the time, I heard that “voice ” I