The Past

“You need to get over the past.”

It is a phrase that is flung my way every few months. Unfortunately, It is something It comes with the territory.   My advocacy work makes some people defensive. It makes them look at things they are uncomfortable facing. My truth can be threatening to those who do not want to look back.  Yet I don’t speak out t hurt them, I do it because I need to use my voice in order to move forward. For me it is important in my healing joruney to face the past.  Yet I wish people understood, that the past is a place that I work each day to leave behind.

I grew up in a traumatic environment. Due to my Mom’s alcohol dependency, I witnessed addiction and domestic violence numerous times during my childhood.  There are memories that still bother me. Memories that left indelible marks on who I am.

That manifests itself in many ways. Raised voices make me nervous. A sound, smell or phrase can bring me back to a scary memory, and my body reacts accordingly.

My body is shaped around protection. It is used to the worst happening suddenly. Many of these reactions date back to when I was the last line of defense, protecting me and my sister from the chaos. Many of them no longer serve me, but they protected me for years. I honor them, even as I work to build healthier patterns.


As the child of an alcoholic, my past often returns unexpectedly.

I want people to see that. I heal loudly, because for years I thought I was an aberration. I silently suffered through my triggers unsure of how to reach out. I thought something was wrong with me, when in truth I was simply reacting to a trauma.

It isn’t about “getting over” my past. It is about honoring it while working to move into the future.

Together we heal

Hindsight 20/20

When I look back at old pictures of you it is bittersweet.

 I have an entire album of pictures of you. I felt a protective pull over those photo albums. It was all I had left of you. Looking backwards makes me smile.  In those pictures, you look healthy and happy. Well dressed. Being held by loving parents. Surrounded by friends. You look like the stereotypical American child.

You had no idea what was coming. How your choices would come to shape your life. How your addiction would come to shape mine.

Unfortunately I saw the tragedy of your life unfold. I watched you claw at the edges of addiction unable to escape. I was shaped within the dysfunction brought forth by your addiction. I was there at the unfortunate ending. I watched Alcoholism end your life.

It still hurts in many ways I struggle to put words to. There are memories that I am not ready to unpack yet.

I don’t know where your addiction started. That was one of the many secrets you took with you. In the wake of your death, I have come to terms with living with the unknown. There are things that we will never know, because of your silence.

There is nothing I can do about the past. It is done.  Looking back at my childhood with anger, does nothing, but hurt me. I can hold you accountable, and still find it in my heart to forgive you. within healing I can stop this pain from continuing forward to my children.

In the end, I think that is the best gift I can give all of us.