Recovery Post Workplace Abuse: Musings

Sometimes on this journey of recovery post workplace abuse, my path resembles the picture above:  nice and scenic.  

Other times ... well ... it resembles the torn up road below.  Massive reconstruction.  Basically not passable.  Unless you pick your way through very, very carefully.

And then there are the times, it rounds a curve out of sight and I'm wondering what's around the bend?  Good or bad?  Pretty or ugly?  Sometimes my life post workplace abuse resembles the picture below.  Uncertain.  I won't know what's lies beyond that bend in the road under I round that bend and see for myself.

Or my might be straight, but snow covered and icy.  Cold.  Frozen.  But still beautiful in its own way. 

My journey, my life post workplace abuse, never stays the same.  It varies from day to day - which is a good thing.  Even on the most shattered, torn up days, there is hope.  Another day coming.  Another adventure.  Another photo to take.  Another meal to cook - especially when I'm having a series of good days in a row.  Another item to knit or crochet.  Another blog to write and post.  Another bridge to cross.

That is why I like to take pictures.  Of anything and everything especially roads, paths, etc.  They remind me that just like a road trip, my journey is ever changing. Never the same twice.  There is always something up ahead.  Hopefully something better.  More scenic.  Another piece of recovery.

Each of the above pictures has a specific place in my life, my journey.  The one immediately above of the sun rising over a snow swept road is one of my favourites.  A picture I would probably never have gotten had workplace abuse not changed my life so drastically.

I was able to take this picture because my life is freer in some ways now post workplace abuse than it ever was before.  Because I don't work, I have the freedom to do things, go places with hubby.  Take pictures.

It's a trade off:  less money but more freedom.

In the scenario above, we had gone to a small town on Lake Huron.  The place our married life began.  In fact, the exact location our married life began.  At some cabins his parents owned which now belong to one of his siblings.  

His sibling needed some work done.  It's not just my life that has been dramatically changed in the last three plus years, but his as well.  He also lost his job and has had trouble finding permanent full-time employment.  So, we were both free to take a little trip to the place where our married life began.  I wanted to take pictures.  He needed to do plumbing.  We both accomplished our separate goals.

Early the next morning, we headed back to our normal.  As we were driving home, I noticed that we were heading directly into the rising sun.  I couldn't help but whip out my iPhone and take pictures - lots of pictures - as we headed east into the rising sun.

If I was still working, I wouldn't have has this incredible experience.  Nor would I probably have appreciated it as much as I did.

There have been so many changes in both of our lives in the past three plus years.

Yet, I've learned that life goes on.  That even in the midst of sorrow, tears, anger ... or whatever, there is beauty.  There is joy.  There is even ... dare I say it? ... laughter.

There are those sunrise moments among the torn up roads in my life.

But even that torn up road in the second picture in this blog, didn't stay torn up.  It's been completely rebuilt. New sidewalks.  New asphalt.  New drainage.  Etc.  It looks really good.  If a road can look beautiful, this one does.

In the end, the result i.e. the reconstruction of this road, has been worth the effort, the inconvenience.

In the end, I truly believe that I will be able to say that about my life, my experience(s) in the workplace, my journey towards health, wholeness and recovery.

In the end, it will be worth all the time, all the effort, even all the pain, altered abilities and tears.

I truly believe this.

Until next time....

Recovery Post Workplace Abuse: Appearances are deceiving.

Me on a a good day.  I appear to have it all together.
(at the World Wide Knit in Public Day last spring)

I've learned many things on this journey.  Some I've already written about in earlier - much earlier - posts, yet it appears that there is always something else coming down the pike to learn.  Just as the journey is ongoing and doesn't seem to ever stop or end, so goes the learning curve.  There is always something new to learn on this journey.

As I've written in an earlier post, during this time frame I've been thinking about friends.  Not just how to be a friend, as I wrote about in an earlier post about a woman who not only impacted me greatly in a positive sense by being my friend when I needed one but also by teaching me how to be a friend.

I've been thinking seriously about friends because of an experience I had during this past year.  I tried to be a friend to someone.  Someone hurting.  Someone who badly needed a friend.  I thought that with all the things I've learned on the journey of recovery that I could walk with her and help her in her journey towards recovery from her life circumstances.

It didn't happen.

The relationship turned out badly and I eventually had to walk away from this hurting person, hurting her even further in the process (which I'm not proud of).  I learned that I'm not as strong as I thought I was.  While I may have been strong enough to walk with her on her journey, I was not strong enough to carry her.  Heck!  I can't even carry myself!  Even hubby can't carry me.  Nor would I expect him too.

Yes, I have had an amazing amount of recovery, but there are still those pesky weak spots within my make up.  Those "Achillies' heels" in my makeup which make me vulnerable in some ways.

I learned something important during this time frame.  Appearances are deceiving.  To the outside eye, a person who doesn't know me, where I've come from, my struggles, etc., I appear pretty good.  In the vernacular:  I clean up pretty good.

To the panhandler on the street, I look like a good target - especially when I'm having a good day and have that bright smile on my face.  One of the luxuries I've managed to keep during this sojourn through trauma and drastically reduced financial income is my once-every-eight-week hair appointment with a good stylist.  So, unless I'm coming due for another session with her, I look pretty good together, even on days when I'm wondering if I have the strength to get on the bus and go back home.

When I'm having a good day, I come across as being very positive.  Being a woman who knows, in a positive sense, who she is.

I bought lots of nice clothes, etc. when I was still working and had money to spend, and I enjoy wearing them now.  In short, I don't look like someone whose life is a daily struggle to recover, to get on top and stay on top.  To the uninitiated, I look like I have it all.

Similarly, to this person who I tried to cultivate as a friend, I had things she didn't have - and wanted badly.  Friends.  A support system.  Family.  Most of all, a husband.

I tried to explain to her that it wasn't always like this.  I've worked hard for years on these relationships.  I've been with a competent therapist for seven years now paying every single cent of her fee from my own pocket with no outside help.  Because recovery is that important to me.

Things haven't magically or mysteriously fallen into my hand.  I've worked hard for every single particle of recovery I've experienced.  At some points I've worked on recovery 24/7 - and gotten weary.  Yet, I've persevered.

Because. It. Is. That. Important.

As I've healed and gotten slowly stronger, I've been able to go out and do things with hubby. Things I enjoy - like taking pictures.  Things which help in the healing process.  Outings which provide good memories to think back on.  Positive things.  To the outside observer, with our bantering behaviour, etc., we appear like any other middle-class, "mature" couple.  No one would guess the journey we've been through on this road to recovery from emotional trauma.  Not unless we clued them in.

Four projects - one hat and three headbands - being blocked

Then there's the right brain stuff.  I'm a left brain type of person.  My mind is constantly active.  Thinking.  Analyzing.  Trying to make logical sense out of the illogic that happened to me in the workplace.  Without some sort of intervention or therapy, I will never get any rest from this constant onslaught.  Therefore, I knit.  I crochet.  I write.  I watch DVDs.  I take pictures.

I blog.

I do these things not because I can financially not work and, therefore, am able to indulge myself in my "hobbies", but because this is the way I stay sane.  This is the way I work through all of the turmoil.  I find peace when I've got those needles in my hands.  When I see the finished product, I feel like I've accomplished something.  When I place an article I've made in a loving home, I feel like I've contributed something to the outside world.  It helps me see that I have value.  I have worth.  And there's always another project - or two or three - in my mind to start when the current one is finished.

The latest project on my needles (photo taken just a few minutes ago):  a Santa hat

Appearances are deceiving.  Very deceiving.  No one lives a charmed life.  I hope I haven't just busted your balloon with these words that no one lives a charmed life.  But it's true.

Life happens, no matter what we've planned.

Until next time (hopefully tomorrow)....

Post Workplace Abuse: Unexpected challenges yet life is still worth living

I started this post months ago in the period after I went to Write Canada.  Going to Write Canada was a significant event in my journey towards recovery post workplace abuse.  It is one of several unfinished posts in which I cached pieces of other posts which just didn't seem to fit in at the moment.

Right now, right at this moment in space and time, dear friends, I feel totally wiped.  Worn out.  My mind doesn't want to function.  My body wants to stay in bed.  Things that used to interest me, don't light my fire right now.

In short, I have a lot of the symptoms of depression according to the linked article from Huffpost.

I also feel disjointed - which is why I think reinventing this old conglomeration of bits and pieces from other posts fits today.  It fits the way I feel.

Yet, at the same time, disjointed and lacking in continuity as it may be, it does have a certain amount of fluidity.

In my journey towards recovery from workplace abuse, depression seems to be part and parcel of the journey.  Sometimes worse than other times.  Sometimes better.  It sort of seems to wax and wane like the moon.

The problem is to realize it for what it is.  If I can realize what it is, what I'm going through for example identify trauma, complex PTSD and depression in my life, then I am able to deal with them, to cope, better.

This post starts with Write Canada, goes on to an earlier part of the journey and then goes back to Write Canada.  It sort of meanders all over the place - like that creek I mentioned in my last post.

Yet ... yet, I think there is some validity in sharing these disjointed parts of my journey.  Because although disjointed, they still form a whole.

*******

Sandra Orchard, Published fiction writer from Ontario, who conducted some of the workshops who just happens to be wearing one of the scarves I made and brought to give away to anyone who blessed me.

Conquer?  Not exactly.  Write Canada does not need to be conquered.  It is not Mount Everest.  It is a group of people, mostly Christian people, who write.  We come from all over Canada, East and West, we come to share this time, to meet new people, to reconnect, to learn and to grow as writers.

Me.  I came with my own agenda.

To continue on the course of recovery from Workplace Abuse.  My own personal Mount Everest.

The journey home from a place which left me lost, alone and lonely.

From picture archives 2011 of ambitious camping trip in what is called the "Near North" of Ontario

I had no way of knowing back in 2011 when everything was happening at the workplace and I had those two back-to-back stress breakdowns what was in store for me.

I knew that what I was experiencing in the workplace was trauma.  I knew that I had complex PTSD from previous situations including and especially the first run in with workplace abuse.  But I really didn't understand how profoundly trauma was going to affect every aspect of my life and how long it was going to last.

It was like starting out on an unplanned, unexpected journey on the spur of the moment with absolutely no idea of where I was going or how I has going to get there.  If I got there at all.

The breakdowns and initial damage occurred in late winter/early spring of 2011.  By the fall of 2011, I was starting to move into what I now know was the chronic phase.  I was tired all the time.  A tiredness that never went away.  We had planned a two-week camping adventure starting out at Tobermory Ontario on the Bruce Peninsula, taking the ferry across to Manitoulin Island and then making our way across to Saulte Sainte Marie, up to Manitouwadge, Ontario and on back.  Little did I know at the time how challenging this trip would be.  How severe the damage was.  And that it was going to last for quite for time.

I simply thought if I got a good night's rest I would be fine.

That didn't happen.

I did notice that I felt safer in smaller spaces.  We have two tents and my husband chose to bring the small, canoe camping tent rather than the larger one.  I was glad he did.  I felt comfortable in that small, enclosed space which held so many good memories of previous trips when it was just hubby, me, the canoe and God.

The old lighthouse, now unused, at Big Tug Harbour, Tobermorey, Ontario

I also noticed that I had quite a startle reaction.  On our first night in Tobermory, a young child ran past me emitting loud noises - as children do.  And I startled badly.  I stopped.  I had a panic reaction.  It was then that we realized that going into a restaurant for our evening meal was not going to work.  Hubby suggested we buy sandwiches, etc. at the local food store and then go to the old lighthouse to eat them.  There were lots of other people there and I started to panic again, but hubby knew what I needed and led me to a secluded spot in the rocks where we could sit virtually unnoticed and simply observe as we ate our supper.

What I've described in today's blog was only the beginning of the affects of the trauma which became apparent in the days, weeks and months to come.  Affects I still wrestle with.

The "long and short" of it.  Myself and Heidi, one of the hardest working and funniest women I have ever met at Write Canada 2014

This is part of the background of the story as to why even being able to go to Write Canada 2013 with my niece as constant companion was such a victory and why going alone this year to Write Canada 2014 felt akin to climbing Mount Everest - or perhaps going up the CN Tower.

Also, why I find life such a challenge even now more than three years past the initial injury, the initial trauma.

*******

Life, my friends, is all about living.  Living to the fullest.  Living to the best of our abilities DESPITE our challenges.

During my journey - and largely because of it, I have had the privilege of meeting many people mostly through the net who are as disenfranchised in their own situations as I am in mine.  Most of these people have autoimmune diseases which have caused drastic changes in their lives.  Pain.  Immobility. 

Yet these people soldier on.

Life, I am finding is not about avoiding all obstacles and challenges but in meeting them head on and finding a way to cope with them.

Today, my challenge - should I choose to accept it - is to find a way to rebalance myself and soldier on.

I accept the challenge.

Until tomorrow ....

Surviving Workplace Abuse - financial repercussions

Our mini vacation is drawing to an end.  It's time to go back home - and face our present reality.  Hopefully with slightly different eyes and more hope for a better tomorrow.

Our reality as a couple post workplace abuse includes that of financial constraints and difficulties which I haven't mentioned before in this blog.

I haven't worked since all the drama at the workplace.  It's not that I haven't wanted to; however, each time I would take a step - or a thought - in that direction, the physical problems would reassert themselves.

At one point, I itched so badly over most of my body that even having something touching me was unbearable.  And let's face it, even the most relaxed dress code doesn't allow for nudity in the workplace.

The fatigue, I think, has been one of the worst affects.  Especially in the beginning.  Any time I would try to do something to move forward and regain what I had lost,  even a small thing like taking a walk, would cause so much fatigue that I would sleep for long periods of time for days afterwards.   Again, it helps to be able to be able to show up for work when scheduled.

But the most dramatic affect which affected both of us, was our loss of income.  For a short period of time, I had an exit package which tided us over the beginning period.  As that period drew to an end, I was worried about how we were going to manage the transition from two full-time paycheques to one.  I needn't have worried - at least about that.  Because we didn't go from two to one; we went from two to none.

Hubby was unexpectedly laid off from his job of 14 years without notice.  So, we went from two paycheques and benefits to zero - in about two weeks flat.

Try it sometime.  I doubt you're going to like it.  We didn't.

Since then, our life has been a constant struggle trying to find full-time lasting employment for hubby.

We've found short-term gigs but nothing that has become permanent.  For the last year, hubby has been driving patient transfer.  What began with high hopes has become a bust as the hours and the pay just isn't there.  Neither are the benefits.  There have been some weeks when he's cleared a little over $100/week.  Try living on that, folks.  It ain't easy.

We've been living on our savings and watching it continually dwindle.

I think this is one of the most draining aspects of life post workplace abuse.  Something that's rarely mentioned.  Yet, it needs to be mentioned and recognized as part and parcel of the experience.

Severely reduced financial circumstances are part of our lives.

Yet, we have each other.  Our relationship has grown and strengthened through the journey.  We've learned to honour and value each other in ways that we might not otherwise.  We've learned to realize what each other's strengths and weaknesses are and to learn to rely on  the other's strengths.

We've grown both as individuals and as a couple.

To this morning after I push the final button and publish this posting, we head back to our reality post workplace abuse.  

But we head back refreshed by these few days away together.

Until tomorrow ....

The Importance of Milestones on the Journey of Recovery Post Workplace Abuse

From the beginning of my journey towards recovery post workplace abuse, I've used milestones to look back from and see how far I've come in the journey.  Similar to someone hiking up a mountain who looks back to see how high he's come so far.  The milestones have changed with the years as circumstances have changed, as the journey has taken unexpected twists and turns.

Lately, I've been using my birthdays as a milestone.  Where was I on the journey last year?  Where am I now?  What has changed - for the better ... or ... for the worse?

Looking back, we can see more clearly not only where we once were, but how far we have come in the journey.

Take last Saturday, for example.  It was a significant day for me both in my life journey and in my journey post workplace abuse.  My 65th birthday.  I was determined to make it a celebration - not just of life but of recovery.  The six people in this world who are the closest to me i.e. hubby, daughter, son-in-love and the three grands, came with me to celebrate.  They valued me enough to spend an entire day with me travelling to Toronto and from there to the CN Tower.  Up and back down.  With three kids.  And an hour wait in line.  With one person, besides me, not height friendly either.

It was a milestone for me on the journey of recovery in many ways.  I've mentioned that in what I now call Phase 1 of the recovery process (from workplace abuse situation #1 up to where the bullying in situation #2 became aggressive), I was working on many things:  relationship, fears, etc.  Specifically one of the fears that had paralyzed me prior was my dual fears of heights and elevators.

Last Saturday, I chose to celebrate my 65th birthday by continuing to conquer my fears.  I went to the CN Tower in Toronto.

Birds eye view of the CN Tower.  It's a long way up, folks.  On a glassed-in elevator.

It was also a day of firsts.  My first subway ride on the TTC.  The only other time I'd ridden a subway was in 1971 in Paris, France - which being more than 40 years ago, I don't think should count.

Union Station.  I'd only been in there once before to pick someone up on the VIA rail and had never seen this part of it.  Let me tell you, folks, Union Station in Toronto is HUGE.  If I had not had my daughter and her family with me, I would probably still be there....  Lost somewhere in the hugeness and corridors of the building.

I'd never been on foot at street level before in Toronto.  Well, okay once, the same time we picked someone up at Union Station.  We walked from the parking lot to Union Station and back again.  So I figure just like that long ago subway ride in France that that doesn't really count. 

I felt like a little kid in a candy store.  Only that candy store for me was all the incredible architecture, street scenes, statues, etc.  All the photo opportunities just waiting for me and my camera.

Since Union Station is only a few blocks from the CN Tower, the tower dominates the landscape.  It would be very hard to miss.

I was mesmerized by the scenes at foot level.  The tall, glass-fronted buildings.  The reflections in them.  The building going on.  And the green spaces.  For such a huge cosmopolitan city, the capital city of the province of Ontario, it has a lot of green spaces.  I could have stayed there for hours just walking around in that area.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel fear or anxiety looking up at the observation deck of the tower.  I felt commitment.  Purpose.  Exhilaration, as well.  I was a woman on a mission.

We had an hour long wait for the elevator.  And again, I didn't feel fear.  Not until we were next in line to get in the elevator ... and the doors ... opened.

Is it too late to get off?  My initial reaction as we started to up ... and up ... and up....  I confess I wanted the elevator to reverse and go back down.  I wanted OFF.  But by that time I was what they say committed.  Too late to back out now.

I started to feel much calmer as we rode up.  The elevator is so fast, it only takes about a minute.  The doors opened at the Observation Deck and I felt proud.  I had confronted my fears ... and still alive to tell - and photograph - it.

As I looked down, I felt like Super Woman - without the cape.

The next challenge was the infamous glass floor.  I was determined to experience this day, this milestone to the fullest.

I was determined to be able to say:  I came, I saw, I conquered.

I must say though that looking at the glass floor up close and personal was an anxiety producing sight.  UNTIL a kind man who also had height problems told me to look up not down at first when getting on.  So I looked up, holding someone's hand. I think it was one of the people I came with and not a strange.  At least, I hope so.

It worked.  I was on the floor.  Looking down.

The man was right.  Once on the floor, it wasn't nearly as bad.  It was only the thought of going on it that was so frightening.  So true in life sometimes, eh?

A foot picture just to prove I really did do it.

Going down was anticlimactic.  My biggest emotion was that I was sorry to see the experience end and the day wind down.

Approaching the Skywalk which would take us back to Union Station.

Another first, the skywalk which is simply a corridor from one place to another.  Not scary at all.  In fact a lot of fun as there were all these windows I could look through - and take pictures through.  I was not seeing a piece of Toronto from a slightly elevated point of view.  A different perspective.

Even though we'd just been down there a few hours prior, everything looked different from this view, this perspective.

Of course, there are views from this pathway that you really don't see at street level.  You cannot see from street level.  Like the tracks below for the GO trains, etc., leading out of Union Station.

And then there's the glass-domed roof as we leave the Skyway and start heading into Union Station itself.

The trip ended as it had begun with a subway ride back to where we had left our car.

Tired but happy.  Another milestone on the journey reached.  Another piece of recovery achieved.

Would these things have happened if I had not been forced on the journey of workplace abuse and recovery from?  Somehow, I doubt it.  I think my life would have gone on much as it was.

Working on the road to recovery is hard work.  I don't deny it. But it is good.  Very good.

Until tomorrow ....

Post Workplace Abuse: Life Goes On ... and on and on and on

As I've pointed out before in this blog, life doesn't stop because you're going through trauma.  Life goes on.  Hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month and year by year.  Deaths, birthdays, life changes, illnesses, etc.

Saturday, I experienced a significant milestone on my journey:  my 65th birthday.  I am officially a senior citizen now.

Significant events cause me to look back over the past year and realize what the most significant events in my life were.  What means the most to me now as opposed to a year ago, two years ago, etc.?

What means the most to me now is family ... and friends.  Those people who have walked with me closely in this journey.  Those people who have never given up on me.  Like my husband, my daughter, her husband, my grands.

Today's blog will be about my birthday in 2013 ... just because ....

The trailer their gear was stowed in

The children's song goes "the wheels of the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round.  The wheels on the bus go round and round all day long."

So did the wheels on the bicycles of a group of people of all ages and from all walks of life who rode from Sea to Sea last year raising funds for poverty and awareness of poverty.  They lived out of baskets (two each, I think) on this trailer for the summer.  They slept in tents and on floors mostly.  And they rode their bicycles six days a week through every kind of weather imaginable - except for snow.

They started in California last year, rode through deserts and very, very hot weather, so hot that the tour had to be suspended for a few days and the riders and their bikes driven to another point around the very hot weather.  On August 9th, 2013 (my birthday) they drove through our area stopping for the night within a few miles of our house.

I had wanted to drive my bike with adult training wheels to meet them ... but was not able to do that.  My body simply had not recovered enough strength to do that.  I had wanted to have someone drive me to the nearest interesection so I could wave at them as they rode by and possibly hand out goodies.  That didn't happen either.

What did happen, though, was that my daughter and grands came by and we went to their stopping place for the night and gave them a variety of chocolate bars.  We even got to meet some of the riders (the early birds, the go-getters).

A rider picking out his candy bar.

Ok, Cassie so what does this have to do with you and your birthday?  Nothing really.  Yet it had to do with my journey of recovery.  I loved to bike, but last year it became evident that I

Early birds got the responsiblity of throwing all the gear i.e. tents, sleeping bags, etc. out of the trailer.

This was significant to me because although I was, and am still, totally incapable of doing such an arduous undertaking, my heart was with these guys and I was following their adventures from the beginning of the ride to the end via their blogs.

An early bird setting up his tent.  As I recall this was quite a victory in this man's life as he had had to leave the tour earlier due to heart problems and had recovered significantly enough to rejoin the tour.  Cool, eh?

And this was just the start of my celebration last year.

We then went to a local fast food Mexican place in our area and bought take out Mexican food to enjoy at home.  While there, my daughter and grands explored the back yard.  Just prior to my birthday, we'd had several bad windstorms and the privacy fence between our yard and our neighbour's up close to the house had been blown down resulting in a pile of boards to be inspected by curious grands and daughter.

Also to be written on by one very mischievous daughter - with help from her daughter.

And then there was my garden.  The Rose of Sharon was in bloom (it's not this year as we had such a late spring).

Smiling at me in all their glory as if to say "Happy Birthday".  We're glad you've survived another year.

The black-eyed Susans which, in and of themselves almost make an outdoor, living bouquet blooming in profusion where they're planted.

But that wasn't the end of the day.  We decided on the spur of the moment to have a laid back, low key birthday party in the park bringing in food from a favourite take-off which specializes in Southern barbecue at its best.  Because frankly I wasn't up to anything else, so my family determined to make my day a celebration even with my various limitations.

It turns out that my birthday was a special day for other people as well.  Me and my camera.  I could not resist taking a picture of this bride and groom as they were having their wedding pictures taken in the park.

And, of course, there were the gardens in the park in full bloom.  Beautifully landscaped.  It seemed to me that day that they were there for my pleasure.  To soothe my battered soul.

Whatever....  I did enjoy them though.

And then the family started to show up.

Hubby, daughter, the grands, son-in-love,  and his parents.  All there just because they value me.  Just because they wanted to celebrate this special day with me.  Just because ....

I felt loved....

Bonus!  They even bought and brought an ice cream cake to the park to make the perfect ending of a good day.  How they kept it from melting is a well-kept secret.

Unfortunately, the party ended very early as the fatigue was in full force that summer and I became too tired to sit up.  I guess that when the birthday girl has to leave, the party's over.

But it was good while it lasted.

Very good.

*******

I chose to remember last year's birthday in this blog rather than the most recent one two days ago, because it was another milestone on my road to recovery.  The realization that life - and enjoyment of life - is not over just because a person is still in the process of recovery.  Life can still be good.  Full of challenges, yet still good.  Different - yet still good.

As I look back on this year a year ago, I realize what is most important to me at this stage in my recovery. 

My family.

Because they're the ones who are in it for the long haul.

May God bless them richly.

Until tomorrow ... where we'll see where the deranged mind rambles next.