Heartbreaking, Erika. I cry for you and your mother because I am good at crying. I am thankful for you and your survival instinct, for all who sustain and buoy you, for the drugs that help you, and for your ability and willingness to write honestly about your challenges.

Ironically, on Wednesday, a co-worker shared with me her family history of opioid addiction, alcoholism, and all the various crimes that go along with them. I’ve known her for 20 years and she never shared this information before. She is one of five sisters. I knew one of her sisters, who worked with us for a while long ago. They are the only two not addicted to drugs or alcohol, although my friend believes that sister is a borderline alcoholic. The others are drowning in addictions; one is in jail; several of their children are also addicts and one is in the same state prison as his mother.

History repeats itself until one person takes a different path and bravely chooses to write a better story.

I was always a writer but lived in a bookkeeper’s body before I found Medium and broke free — well, almost. Working to work less and write more.

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