EPISTLE VII: To The Ones Relearning God Outside of Survival
Dear Human Being, not Human Doing,
I know why you keep moving. I know why rest feels dangerous to you.
Maybe like me, you were raised by people who survived through labor — who were raised by people who survived through labor, and the generation before them too. People whose work ethic was their dignity. People who endured hunger, instability, displacement, grief and trauma by becoming useful before they ever became safe.
You inherited their resilience. But you also inherited their fear.
I need you to hear something from me that may take your nervous system years to believe: You do not have to collapse before you are allowed to rest.
EPISTLE VI: To The One Everyone Tried to Save — and the One Nobody Noticed Was Drowning
To the sibling who struggles with addiction & to the one who does not,
I watched Four Good Days recently and cried at the ending with the kind of relief that settles deep into the body. Molly survived. Somehow, after all the destruction, stress, chaos and exhaustion, she was still alive. And then I noticed, how it made me feel that her sister played such a small role and had no place in that happy ending. To me that significance buzzed louder in my emotional rollercoaster than the seemingly soft landing back at home with mom for Molly.
I realized while watching it that I have immense compassion for people struggling with addiction. But there is still one place in me where compassion catches in my throat.