One day at a time. It sounds so cliché, right?

Recovery is a decision, not a negotiation. You don’t negotiate with this disease – you either recover from it or you don’t. The decision to be free from addiction and stay away from it expires in exactly, twenty-four hours. Every day, we need to make this decision over again.

This can ALSO be defined as an act of, hope. That ability to foresee something that cannot be seen, but is able to be held with our heart every step of the way till we get there. It is here we acknowledge we are not promised tomorrow, but given this chance, today.

She cried for you…

Spare your mom, get clean – she cries for you.

On the day you were born the tears streamed down her face and your dad cut the cord, she cried for you.

As she watched you sleep wondering how this baby is so perfect how did you come to me, she cried for you.

When you got your first tooth and she knew your jaw hurt but, she didn’t know what to do, she cried for you.

When you fell, and scraped your knee and it was the first time she saw you bleed, she cried for you.

When you punched your bedroom door because she didn’t want you to go to that party and drink, anymore, she cried for you.

When your first love said, he wanted a break, and she only wanted to hold you – because she knew heartache, she cried for you.

When you won your first game and she ran out to greet you with tears on her face, she cried for you.

When she saw the pokes in your arm and she called you every day asking where you were – but you got distant and you didn’t hear her cries, she cried for you.

When you told her, “Mom stop worrying, stop saying I’m high”, she cried for you.

When you came to dinner and you were high and the baby she once held seemed empty inside, she cried for you.

And she begged you to get help when you left town for two weeks and nearly killed yourself, she cried for you.

When you asked her for money and she told you no – and you said, “I know you don’t love me anymore”, she cried for you.

At the alter in church, pleading with God to save you so that it just wouldn’t hurt, she cried for you.

When she begged you to stop saying, “I want my baby back so I can just be her mom”, she cried for you.

When she got, that call saying, “We are sorry but your baby is gone”, she cried for you.

Laying in the fetal position screaming out your name, cursing your addiction, she cried for you.

When she went to identify your body, she said, “Baby I’m here, baby it’s me, its mommy”, she cried for you.

When she kissed, your cold blue face thinking, if I had done something different – it wouldn’t be this way, she cried for you.

When she chose your funeral clothes and contemplated suicide so you wouldn’t feel alone, she cried for you.

When they laid you in your grave and she slept on your headstone for three days, she cried for you.

Holding a piece of your hair and your picture wondering where you are and if you miss her too, she cried for you.

Laying on your blankets in your bed to try to comfort herself by, smelling your scent, she cried for you.

Remembering when you first looked at her, remembering the touch of your hair and how it curled, she cried for you.

Wishing she could go back in time – blaming herself ‘cause you got high, she cried for you.

For the rest of her days because, the end of your life is her lifetime of pain, she thinks if only I could go back – if only I could fix this. She cries over her baby she lost to, addiction.

To you, the reader, the newcomer, OR the addict who struggles, you are magic. You will come to see – you are a leader, you are a fighter AND this is what the world needs, people not willing to stop just because its, difficult and painful.

Writing would have never happened for me had I not walked into, narcotics anonymous. I found this incredible gift in my, sobriety. At the edge of this epic journey, running towards a brighter future for my children – running towards health and freedom – together, taking my first steps.

This became my challenge, pushing my body to a goal – train, fund-raise and educate – learn more about myself through this act of, commitment. And what was once so difficult, now became second nature.

To take on the seemingly impossible, I must take it “one day at a time”, one step at a time. I must have an awareness of the bigger picture AND my next step. So, here I am now, at the beginning of my impossible – these manuscripts.

My expansion through experience…



To read how it began, follow the link below.

The Contaminated Well: Book One