BLOG

I grew up on the East Coast of Florida. My mom has lived in the same house my whole life, down the road from an elementary and a middle school, public housing next to the schools, grocery stores and a shopping plaza on the other side. Trailor Park up the road.

In the past year, we’ve heard discussion in popular culture about what “sobriety” means. “Sober” sober (abstaining from everything) versus “California sober” (not doing harder drugs but still getting high).
I’ve had philosophical discussions with clients regarding what “sobriety” means to them…

In the past year, we’ve heard discussion in popular culture about what “sobriety” means. “Sober” sober (abstaining from everything) versus “California sober” (not doing harder drugs but still getting high).
I’ve had philosophical discussions with clients regarding what “sobriety” means to them…

Explaining depression to others is exhausting. Not to those who experience it. We know how it feels, we know what it destroys. The numbing pain, the dark thoughts, and the dirtied filter we see the world through. The vulnerability of our uttered words and teary eyes. Received with blank stares by many.

Once upon a time, in a town not too far from here, we begin a story of escapism. Now, we could go back generations and talk about family histories, alcoholics who spent paychecks on bathtub gin, opiate eaters and who knows what else, but for the purposes of this tale, we’ll stick to the (relative) present.

A secret life, lying effortlessly, the perfect public image, a sense of self-importance that requires admiration from others. As I write this blog, I asked myself, am I describing a Hollywood action movie character like James Bond?