My First Author Event

The Growing Power Of Social MediaYes! I can’t believe it but it is true.

I signed up for my first ever Author Event in my community. I cried tears of joy after I read the official email. It’s called Quakertown Alive! and it takes place in the middle of town. There is an Author’s Corner, food vendors, craft vendors, activities, etc. I am super excited.

On top of that, I started my last semester at community college. After this, I will have my Associate’s Degree in Liberal Arts!

As I continue to write Poetry through Recovery, I realize so many of these wonderful things in my life wouldn’t be possible without my sobriety. Painful to write but oh so necessary. Part of the way we get to keep our recovery and sobriety is to give it away.

When I first got sober my life was a multi-car trainwreck and I never thought I’d ever get my shit together. I am just living proof that even the biggest fuckups can put together a semblance of a life and live true to their soul.

If you’re in the area, please stop by and see me! I will be selling and signing books… plus giving away some fun gifts.

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Twelve Years Sober

776eaf4719ddaa1fb1d210fa91a956e5_screenI might be guilty of bragging, but that’s fine. Some things are worth bragging about every day. Being clean and sober is one of them. It might be difficult to understand if you’ve never been on the giving or receiving end of this type of hell. That makes you fortunate.

But, I am fortunate, too.

I am fortunate to have been through hell and come out filthy on the other side. I went through all that shit to make me a stronger person and to help others get through their own version of hell.

That is what this life is all about. Helping others. I don’t get to give up because as much as I might want to, or as much as I might feel my life is all my own and that it is no one else’s business what I do, that is an inaccurate statement.

I am doing this whole Law of Attraction thing and though it feels like nothing is giving and nothing is sparkly, I am learning that I am still on my path. I am learning that despite once feeling guilty about everything that ever happened to me, I am okay. I am the master of my universe. I am the creator of my life. I have a vibration that attracts things. The essence of that which is like unto itself is drawn.

I used to write about my sobriety here but stopped because I was busy with other things and there were already so many great websites and blogs about living sober I figured I would be better off helping people in other ways, and so I did.

If you are going through it, keep going. You’re going to be okay. If you need help and have to where to turn, go to one of these links to get started. AA NA

Guilty

Poetry Through Recovery

So, I was sitting at my desk trying to figure out what to do next and it hit me like a baseball in the sun.  Write about my journey through addiction and recovery. Not the whole thing mind you, parts are pretty boring, but some aren’t. The last year of my addiction and pieces of my recovery are insane, funny and downright heartbreaking.

 

Poetry Through Recovery (1)
Coming June 15, 2018

I mean, I wrote most of my story once, but the whole thing in itself really isn’t fit for human consumption, so this time, on a second go around, I decided to share some of the gritty parts.

People love gritty parts.

Yes, it is called Poetry Through Recovery, but it won’t be all poetry. There will be some personal essays and some funny anecdotes. Just real shit that could maybe help a trainwrecked soul like myself. I did a survey a while back and most people seemed to want to hear about a piece of my life that revolved around living at a place called The Wagon Wheel when I was an eighteen-year-old pregnant mother of two with a crackhead husband.

Trust me, that story is coming. But for some reason, I feel like I need to write this other one first. There is kind of a parallel there, so to speak. When I lived at the Wagon Wheel, I was sober, but living among drunks, addicts, and absolute chaos. Fast forward ten years and it was the same old story, except now I was the drunk asshole. Stories like this – like my story – help people. Maybe I’ll lace Poetry Through Recovery with pieces of the Wagon Wheel. At this point, I feel like I have to.

It’s the only way it’ll all make sense. And sometimes, we need shit to make sense.

Have a blessed day.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/parallel/