What early grief was like, for me
My son died just over four years ago. He was twenty-one years old. And while my grief is with me for life, it has evolved over the last four years, and I expect it will continue to.
Those first weeks and month’s after Tristan’s death were what I refer to as my “early grief”. It was heartwrenchingly painful to breathe during that time, but what made things even worse was that I was continually surprised by the ways in which grief raised its ugly head and took a bite out of me. It was relentless in its ability to find new ways to knock me down…
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Writing through grief, with Cami Ostman.
When: Tuesday, October 12 @ 9:00 a.m. Pacific Time
Where: On my Facebook page and my YouTube Channel.
I'm so excited to share Cami Ostman's wisdom with the world! If you're a writer, or if you're grieving the loss of a loved one, you won't want to miss this. Cami is an author, writing coach, family therapist, and founder of The Narrative Project, and is passionate about creating safe and supportive spaces for people to write their stories. Hope to see you all there!
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Why we should tell our stories of losing a child to addiction
Grieving the death of your child is always horrific, but I think there’s an added layer of difficulty when you’ve lost a child to addiction, drug use, or suicide. Stigma can make it hard to share our experiences, but not sharing them magnifies our pain and makes us feel alone. I’ve always been open about my son’s struggle with addiction…
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Book review: the weight of air, by David Poses
the weight of air is a fast-paced story about one man’s decades-long struggle with addiction and his hard-fought recovery. David Poses was a “functional addict”, able to hide his addiction from others (and sometimes from himself), but his need to get high played havoc with both his inner and outer life…
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Surrender
I lay awake listening to the chickadees. With all their predawn chatter, I usually wanted to wring their sweet little necks. Anybody who chirped so loudly at 3:30 in the morning deserved a good swat, I figured, and I would have been happy to oblige if only I had the energy to do it…
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Silver and blue
The sheep were a soft silvery blue: cerulean awash in a spray of small silver splatters. They were the exact same colour as the shepherds and the dog and cow and donkey. The same colour as the wise men and their camels and, of course, Joseph and Mary and little baby Jesus. Even the manger was that amazing mix of blue and silver, the same shade of blue as my mother’s eyes…
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15 ways to look after yourself during these crazy times
Living in this time of coronavirus is a bit like living with a teenager in addiction. It’s big, and scary, and important. It’s potentially life-threatening, and certainly life altering. Maybe it’ll end up a passing phase, nothing to worry about. Then again, it could be total devastation. It’s tempting to live in denial (“It’s no big deal, everything’s fine!”) and justify bad behaviour. Think about it…
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What recovery looks like, for me
Someone recently asked me what “recovery” means to me. Meaning my recovery. Not my son’s recovery – though he was the one who brought recovery to our family. Not my daughter’s recovery – though it’s her recovery that’s laying a strong foundation for future generations. But my recovery. I haven’t struggled with addiction, myself, so how does that word apply to me?…
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Step by step
Tristan and I watched the other students frog-hop up the stairs. Feet together, crouched low on each step, they burst upwards to land on the next. Some swung their arms for momentum, but the more senior students held their hands in prayer position as they jumped. A few students were already on their way down, hands first —right hand on one step, left hand on the next—legs wide, in a bear crawl…
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