I am not being paid by the Voxer App people to explain what it is. So, if you’re asking What is this Voxer App everyone is mentioning? you might not get the most technical description here, but I do explain, in simple terms, what it means to vox.. I just want to tell you because I love voxing: That’s right, I’m now an avid voxer. I have been voxing. I will be doing all the voxing… logo from voxer.com GRANDMA, I KNOW. IT SOUNDS NAUGHTY, BUT IT’S NOT. I PROMISE. The Voxer App was introduced to me by some friends who have been using it for quite some time. I told them on Facebook that I finally looked it up in the app store and read the description. Before that, I had been staring through them as they talked about voxing each other. I didn’t ask, because…huh? am I supposed to know this? How […]
I sent off a reply email to my friend Sarah, typing out a fast thank you (because she is always helping me) and then I said, THIS WEEK. I was referring to the fact that I will see her in just a matter of a couple of days, in San Diego at the Storyline Conference. Months ago we were like “yeah, maybe we should just go to that, together!” And we registered pretty impulsively cause that’s how we roll, and now it’s here. Today I sat for a moment thinking that maybe I’m a little nervous. But it’s Sarah, so that doesn’t make a lot of sense, while it also makes sense. You know how we used to get to know people? In person or snail mail or the phone, that was it. NO INTERNET, our kids won’t believe it! And I can remember having a pen pal and I felt like I […]
I swung the minivan around the cul-de-sac to park and caught sight of our friend Dio on his front porch, sitting on a bench, his eyes closed. The sun was bright but the morning had not slipped away into the afternoon blistering heat of Austin yet. It was comfortable and breezy. We had just moved to Austin and were adjusting to this new-to-us kind of heat. I got out of the van and crossed the lawn to a smiling face, eyes open now, and I asked, “What’re ya doin’, Dio?” “Nothing.” He said this as if he had answered, “Something”, and not just because English is his second language. Dio can speak English just fine, though his accent trips people up sometimes. He said it like it was an important activity, doing nothing. “It is good to do nothing. There’s no time for it very often.” “So true,” I answered. “And now I’m […]
Maybe he was just really tired, that’s what I kept telling myself. But he has been saying this off and on lately, with that same look in his eyes and the stubborn frustration in his little robotic tenor voice. You are always leaving! You haven’t been spending time with us! It was right before bedtime and my heart was breaking. Really? But I’m here, honey. Almost all the time. I’m right here. And it struck me then that he is right. Sure, he’s just an over-tired kid and he’s got really big feelings from his really big heart and sometimes that confuses him. And you know what? I’m not going to beat myself up or make this bigger because I know I haven’t been that detached. But I also know that when there’s a travels-for-work husband and the daily grind and multiple other extra life stressors like we all have, there’s often nothing […]
You create a space for people to be vulnerable, he said. The way you talk about recovery, especially. And it’s just kindness, you treat people with such kindness, they feel safe…” The funny thing is, I was leaning on a bar when he said this. I was ordering drinks, mine with no booze, his and hers with. And in telling me this, he let me know he saw me. He really saw me, took me in. And I wanted to cry because wow, thank you and because I want so badly to be kind, I want people to be able to feel safe with me, always. Anyone. This guy, the one that said these things, is the kind of guy that loves, just like me, to talk about Big Things for hours, and he has a great sense of humor and killer writing skills. He’s young and in love and getting married in […]
I called Hazelden on my first sober day. I was sitting at my dad’s desk in his office, in the house I grew up in. I was playing with post-it notes for fidgeting purposes. I was trying not to cry. Ryan, my husband, was trying to keep the boys from coming to the door to say Mommy, Mommy, Mommy over and over, but they kept coming back. Shhhh, he’d say, and I felt that pressure, like I should hang up and go to them. The nice Hazelden lady on the phone asked me a series of questions. I answered honestly. She did not say she was asking to see if I’m an alcoholic or not. She just let me talk about why I was calling and then she empathized and then she asked questions, one after another. Then she said that it seemed like Hazelden would be a good fit for me. I […]
He sat down on the top step and asked how he could be so tired when he slept all the way until 6:57am. And he’s right, that’s totally late for him. So it hits me that he keeps complaining of being exhausted, off and on lately. It hits me like a ton of bricks. So I finally stop what I’m doing, look up the number for the doctor and call, right then. He doesn’t want to go and I’m honest that yes, they’ll probably do a blood draw and yes, that sucks. Both literally and figuratively. He’s so grown up these days but later, when we sat in the lab at the clinic he reached for me like he used to and I grabbed on and we put our heads together as the tech said, 1-2-3 and his breathing was erratic and so I kept reminding him, deeeep breaths, you’re so brave, it’s […]
(photo credit – that1960schick.com via google images) When you look back, after getting sober, it makes very little sense that you could have been so addicted, inflicted. You wonder who that was, while you were gone. You try to trace the steps to that darkest place, where you were, with that need that took over you and your life. You just can’t. You can’t see how it could have happened, any of it. I can’t, anyway. I have no idea how it came to be, but there I was. There will always be people who say that it’s a moral decision, a very simple and obvious choice. They will always scoff, roll eyes and stand firm in self-righteous indignation. After all, that kind of behavior is also addiction. Ironically, it seems to me it is an addiction involving choice more-so than the addiction to substances. I did not choose alcoholism. Philip Seymour Hoffman […]
