I wanted to do the fourth. I had a hunch – rather, knew as clear as two and two is four – it was my emotional mess that kept me an active alcoholic. I knew that it was self-hate and deep shame that formed the way I lived; anything like ‘better’ would have to radically …
I was never a girl who lasted. There was always something a bit ephemeral and uncommitted, lost to the way I lived. I don’t know how this started or why. But I was marked, if I was marked by anything, by a fear of exposure. No one has any pictures of me, and it becomes …
As it turns out, nothing is arbitrary. Rather, all of it is, but not within the context of a human life. Where that is concerned, when it becomes a question of healing and transformation or just the bleak realization that you are alone and afraid and worthless, we do better to recognize that nothing is …
Shame is its own country. It has currency, language, customs. Most of its territory is a swamp, and one could get lost there, forever. I ask myself the questions: why do some people heal, why can’t all, why do we hurt, why do we hurt one another. All the typical how is this human thing …
