The story.

My friend is writing a book and she asked me to share a piece of my story.  I wonder if these words are just the beginning. 

“If you fall, I will catch you, if you fly, you can teach me,

either way I will be with you.”

I find it difficult to write of the jagged edges of our family's journey.  It was a devastating, all consuming, shattering of dreams time. I keep trying to write about it from afar, as that somehow seems safer… and then…

I think about what I needed.  

I needed the truth from the beginning…the raw, messy, uneven, gut wrenching, hope-filled truth.

I needed to know that struggle would become opportunity.  I needed to know that blame and shame and fear and denial and anger and grief and chaos and tears were "normal" and acceptable and okay.  I needed to know that my broken maternal instinct would eventually heal and grow stronger.  I needed to know that I would be part of the solution. I needed to know that my words mattered...all of them, even the unspoken ones that haunted me. I needed to know that beauty often comes from the bruises.  I needed to know and understand the language of this disease and trust the “team” while at the same time questioning and challenging… everything.  I needed to know that "relapse" was a part of recovery. I needed to know that self-care was not self-ish... even if it felt that way.

I needed to know that "exits" are not always well lit but are always there.

I needed to know that recovery is possible and real and individual.  I needed to know that what I heard wasn't always what was being said and what I said wasn't always what was heard.

I needed to know that faith doesn't always make things better it just makes things different.

I needed to know that I would fall and fail and fumble...and break...often.  I needed to know that fear and control and independence would be replaced with courage and bravery and vulnerability. I needed to know that sometimes it was about me and sometimes it wasn't.  I needed to know that sometimes love was enough and sometimes it wasn’t. I needed to know that forgiveness takes time.  

I needed to know that it was okay to breathe.

I needed to know that it wasn't about comparing but connecting and that leaning into other peoples' stories kept me from falling down.  I needed to know that community grows in the most unlikely places.

And I needed to know that frayed ends are actually the beginnings...and it is terrifying and beautiful and continuous.

So instead of writing about it from afar, I write from the very center. Which is the truth…

And what I need.