I want to go home

Have you ever heard your soul crying? Have you ever woken to its shaken, broken voice whimpering “HELP”. Have you ever heard it plead “I want to go home!”? My body, my heart, my world and my soul were all taken captive by my addiction. It was as if they were only free to tell me in the wee hours of morning while my addiction was sleeping it off. My body would shake and whimper like a child in pain, I’d move closer to my husband to find any comfort for what I’ve done to myself again. Why did I do it again?



Help, I want to go home!


I really had no idea what any of those messages meant. I didn’t understand why I was always saying those same words. Why was I so lost? I had everything didn’t I? A loving husband, beautiful house, fabulous children… Why was I fucking it up? Where did I disappear to? This was simply not me……. except …… it was.


It’s hard to believe this was 3 years ago. It went on for another 6 months before I surrendered and asked to go to treatment. I changed my life that day and little did I know I was indeed finding home.


My mistake every time I tried to quit drinking previously, was thinking that it was simply just the wine. If I cut that out and had incredible will power, I would be fine! I was never fine. I was pretending, acting, I guess. What I learned in treatment was I was a great actress, even better storyteller. I fooled everyone around me. I chose a façade and I played it well. I created her when I had no idea who I was. I didn’t feel safe letting people know the true me. I didn’t like the true me, she wasn’t rich, pretty enough, smart enough, from a good family…none of it. She was just not the person people liked…… except …. She was!




My greatest gift of recovery has been shedding the identities I created to feel safe. I’ve opened up with life and vulnerability. I’m showing up just as I am and I’ve never felt more free. When you live with honesty to simply honour yourself, your soul stops crying, your heart starts smiling. There is joy. Copious amounts of joy.


I dropped the husband and the beautiful house, they weren’t truly mine anyways. I realized I was also part of someone else’s façade. My recovery showed me that and taught me I deserve more. My Sobriety is Sacred. It’s mine and mine alone. I built it, curated it with that little whimpering voice in mind. I promise to never lose her again.


She’s finally home.


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