Not My Child

Overdose Awareness Day

For all those who see all the purple banners today representing overdose awareness day and you scroll on by thinking:

“I’m glad that doesn’t affect me, I’m glad I taught my kids better” or “Someone should have got them help”.

I applaud you. I do.

I am sooo glad that you have never had to watch your beautiful child turn into someone you didn’t know,
I’m sooo glad you’ve never had to get a call from the inmate phone system asking if you’ll accept the charges as you swallow the lump in your throat.

I’m soooo glad you’ve never had the experience of watching your 28-year-old, Once 220 lb- now 160 lb son, thrash around in the back seat, sweating, then freezing, begging his own mother to please take him to get drugs to stop this sickness, as you’re trying to take him to detox.

I’m sooo glad you’ve never had to see a dad in a restaurant with his kids & have your heart ache so deeply that your son isn’t with his kids.

I’m so glad you don’t have to sit down at a delicious meal & feel a twinge of guilt knowing your child hasn’t eaten for days & wondering where he is at.

I’m so glad you’ve never had to see your precious grandkids celebrate a birthday & not knowing the words to tell them that their dad has a chronic, progressive, fatal illness that teaches him lies & makes him do crazy things but he’s NOT crazy & this IS NOT happening because they are unworthy of love or did something wrong.

I’m glad that you would never tell a dying lung cancer patient that they shouldn’t have started smoking. I’m glad you would never tell a diabetic patient that they only get ONE chance to get their blood sugars under control, and then they’re on their own.

Or they should just get over this pesky illness that’s inconveniencing everyone.

I truly am.

Because I wouldn’t wish this nightmare on anyone. I would never want anyone else to lay awake at night, unable to stop the tears, wondering what they could have done differently.

I wouldn’t want anyone else to wonder if today is the day that THEY get the call.

I’m very glad that you taught your kids to make better choices, & that you’ve never broken the speed limit or took a drink or had something so traumatic in your life that you just needed to get through the pain for a minute- And if you did, luckily you were able to stop or walk away without any devastating effects.

Great genes, or coping skills! I wonder if you could help teach those to others? Obedience to life and all the rules, like you have done your whole life, must feel great. I’m sure you love your wonderful life.

What say you? Oh, your life isn’t perfect? I must have missed that part when you were shaking your head in disgust, or when you were rapidly typing with your two thumbs on the Narcan post that your tax dollars shouldn’t have to pay for others’ dumb choices.

In that case, we should start looking at ALL the programs funded by taxpayer money AND also the local hospital programs for heart disease and diabetes, HIV, many of which are the result of personal choices and they DO affect others in their own way.

I’m sure you’re normally a compassionate person. I used to be you. I was compassionate AND caring! I donated to the local children hospital fund. I ran in the race-for-cancer cure fun run. I donated coats for the homeless drive every winter when my kids were little. I left cans on my front door for the boy scout food drive.

But when driving by the guy on the corner, avoiding eye contact with him; I just KNEW that he was only supporting his habit and I had all I could do to not say out loud, “Just GET A JOB!

I understand, I do.

Never, ever, did it cross my mind that I would be walking into a police station to pick up leftover evidence that they had from a drug bust. Never, ever did I think I would be watching a nurse drain a cyst off my sons arm and watching him scream in pain. Never, ever did I worry every single day that my sons life would end, except maybe when he was a baby and had a high fever and was vomiting all night.

See, I’m not really that much different than you. The difference is, I’ve had the humbleness bug forced upon me for a few years now. I don’t hold it against you that you have missed that bug.

We need to create practical affordable solutions for all- while eliminating the waste & fraud in treatment.

Shame and embarrassment are keeping people from seeking treatment.

Even if that means opening our mind up to alternative treatments such as Harm reduction.

The death rate is frightening and it IS AN EPIdemic as it affects the core of the family structure, jobs, crime, the jail system, and little kids who grow up with the stigma of a parent in jail or who has died.

Addiction affects every aspect of society whether directly or indirectly. If you don’t have anything to offer to help stop this nightmare, then please please offer your compassion and time. Even if you don’t understand how it gets to this point, you can still give
HOPE to a suffering addict or a kind word to the family of a person with a substance use disorder.

Or what about not arguing about insulin needing to be free. Maintenance meds are not usually free to anyone, but AED paddles and Narcan to revive-not treat, are free to EMTS.

Other people in pain are NOT the enemy.

See, I don't want one more parent to have to bury a child due to drugs or alcohol, but the only way that's going to happen is if we ALL take on a little part of this ongoing and progressive epidemic to get rid of judgements and stigmas so we can forge practical, affordable solutions for all. 
This IS everyone's problem...

It’s ok to NOT understand the complexities of this disease and to not have a solution!

You can still give that person holding a sign on the corner, a $5 McDonald’s card to let him know that yes, someone does give a damn today- no matter what their motives.

Without hope, everyone suffers.

The Powerless of Cravings

“If you will understand that we are starving, then you will understand why we do the things we do in our addiction. We’re not bad people. We’re just people. Just like you. But unlike you, we’re starving. This is why we hock, sell, trade everything we have. This is why we do the things that hurt the people we love. Our loved ones will say that we love our drugs more than we do them, but that’s not true. Even if you’re starving, you still love.” Dr Sam Snodgrass

This article is one of the best I’ve seen explaining opiod addiction to the average person from the point of view of the person suffering. The author is a doctor who suffered himself for 22 years.

It explains why people lose so much weight (along with everything else) as they become more and more addicted to not only the substance, but the daily rat race lifestyle that requires so much time and energy, “just to stay well” as my son always says.

When I hear moms arguing about whether to buy food for an addicted loved one, there’s always the comment: “if they can buy dope they can buy food”.

The problem is, they don’t.

To me, it’s like expecting a severe Alzheimers patient to eat on time every day without forgetting to turn off the stove.

Filters to protect privacy

The first time my son was “out there” for 9 months, he lost 80 lbs. The second time he lost 60 in 5 months. When I received this second picture of him last year, I literally broke down in horror with shaking sobs. When I sent it to my daughter, she was so upset, she had to leave work. She said:

“I didn’t have any idea it could get this bad in just 5 months”

"Our starvation for these opioids is far more intense than our starvation for food. If it’s a choice between buying food or buying heroin, then that’s not a choice"

He explains how it relates to us eating as a means to survival.

“Let’s say that the only place you can get food is out of a black market where food is expensive and it is scarce. And it is illegal. It is illegal to buy out of this black market. But it’s the only place you can find food. If you were in this situation, what would you do? Would you starve? Or would you break the law and buy food, to eat and to live? Would you steal if you had to, to buy food? The answer to that would be yes. Because survival is not a choice”.

Honestly, because of articles like this, my anger towards my son for all the damage he’s caused has melted in complete compassion for his daily, minute-to- minute struggle. I wish I could say the same for my family. Addicts get a bad rap because they don’t magically heal all these brain changes when they go to jail or go to a 30 day rehab; big truth is, it takes almost as long to heal as the time in hard core active addiction.

“We’re not narcissistic hedonists. When we hurt the ones we love, we hurt too. And what is sad is that we don’t understand why we can’t stop. We don’t understand why we do the things we do. We don’t understand why we hurt the ones we love. We don’t understand because no one has explained to us that the changes within the brain at a cellular, molecular, level, what we call opioid addiction, is an acquired disease of brain structure and, thus, function that is manifested not as compulsive drug seeking and use but, rather, as behavior directed towards the survival of the individual”.

I invite you to click here to read the full article.

It also directs people to resources if they are interested in finding out more.
Dr. Sam Snodgrass received a Doctorate in Biopsychology from the University of Georgia in 1987. He was then awarded a National Institute on Drug Abuse Post-Doctoral Fellowship in the Pharmacology and Toxicology Department at the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences. After his Post-Doc, he was asked to remain as a faculty member in this department. In 1995 he lost his faculty position due to his opioid addiction. His use of heroin and Dilaudid began in 1976. For the first 13 years, his use was occasional. In 1989 he developed an opioid addiction and did not stop for the next 22 years. He is currently a member of the Board of Directors of the 501 c3 non-profit Broken No More and its subsidiary organization, GRASP (Grief Recovery After a Substance Passing).

Taking a Left Turn

Last Friday was an adventurous day for my husband and me! We headed out to look for an old gold mine in the mountains on an impromptu trip, which was 4 hours from our home. 

First, we parked the truck, unloaded the ATV, and took a ride to a place called “The Birthing Caves”.

There were supposed to be old petroglyphs on the cave floor. After a beautiful dusty ride with views of red rock sandstone and 10 foot fall cacti in the hot desert sand;  we  “had arrived” according to the nice google lady. It was then, that my husband realized he had left his gun sitting on the back of his truck 7 miles away. He had to get back to retrieve it; not wanting to lose it and go through the process of having to report it stolen.

We headed back on the 7-mile dusty road and found the gun safe and sound, right where he left it. We decided to load up the ATV and go in the truck to look for the GOLD. We (or I should say- him) did just that. Then we (or I should say- I) reloaded google maps and off we went. Google maps told us to turn left, then left again. And this is where the story starts.

“A good plan is like a road map: it shows the final destination and usually the best way to get there.” 

- H. Stanely Judd

Needless to say, neither of us had been on that mountain before so we followed google’s prompts, thinking all was well.

For some reason, google kept giving us the benefit of the doubt and rerouting without saying it out loud or in print (or else I missed the ques).

The benefit of the doubt, oh how many times I’ve done that- regrettably. Mostly, in the context of money. Money to a less responsible person- but that’s a different story, sort of.

It’s human nature, I suppose. Except google maps isn’t a human. But, with its computer-programmed “brain”, it still wanted to think that we knew what we were doing and would figure it out with what information was provided.

As we wound up the steep mountain cliffs, pulling a 19 ft trailer, on a road that kept getting skinnier and skinnier; we kept thinking that possibly something was wrong. We seemed to be going west instead of south, but google assured us that we were “on track”. As some of you may know, in the backcountry, it’s always wise to download the maps for that area before losing service.

Well, we (or I should say-I) didn’t. In that case, it’s imperative that you don’t refresh or back out of maps because then you have nothing to go on.

After driving in silence, enjoying the varied scenery, I started wondering if this was the road my son took back in October 2018, when our nightmare was just beginning.

It was a Monday morning. I had called him to see how his legs were because he had had an episode of cramping the weekend before. In the past this led to a hospital trip with a Rhabdomyolysis, a life-threatening condition; so my daughter had driven over 50 miles, in the middle of the night to help him with it. She ended up staying with him all night with his cute white, fluffy Labradoodle.

So, on Monday, when he “should have” been to work; imagine my surprise when he was on a dusty road almost to Nevada, “hunting”.

He was a hunter, but, this was odd. It would be the first of many years of a downhill slide to losing his business and everything else.

Did he take a wrong turn, like us, on this very road? 

Chances are, the seeds of addiction were planted long before that. Chances are, his cousin dying that week of an abrupt freak accident sent him spiraling. Chances are, the month before, one of the very few times I heard my brawny tough, grown son cry; when he called to tell me he couldn’t save his marriage – was a huge realization & shock leading to increased use of the only coping skill he had honed in on- numbing.

As we were going down the steep dirt one-lane road, we knew that we were stuck in a forward-moving state, even if our direction and destination were wrong.

There was no turning back. We had no choice in this moment. To do so would surely be death.

Even a ‘100-point- turn- around’ was not possible for miles and miles.

Those who are on an addiction merry go round, who are using just to stay “well”, as my son calls it; also feel this way.

It's- get dope or die- survival. 

They see one path and one path only. The path which leads to their next high. Which isn’t even a high anymore. It’s maintenance. Anything that gets in that path, just like our steep windy road, is just collateral.

Thankfully we arrived safe and sound, at our wrong destination and took a paved road back. But how many don’t arrive safe? How many are berated, and shamed and told they’re doing it wrong yet can’t defend themselves in a logical manner other than lashing out?

Even if a helicopter had came down to rescue one of us, I might have chosen to stay with my husband and our vehicles, rather than leave them blocking others’ path.

As I investigated where we went aray, my husband and I disagreed about which left turn we took wrong. Imagine! Big lesson there too. It’s probably counterproductive to point out exactly where someone may have taken the wrong turn. That’s for them to figure out, just like I spent time after our trip to zoom in on every fork in the road that we missed. It didn’t matter how many people would have told me where I erred (or F’d up), I still needed to figure it out for myself.

Since we can’t get in the mind of an addict, or anyone else really; we sometimes HAVE to give them the benefit of the doubt, like google did us; and have faith that they will somehow “arrive” safe and sound, where we can help them find the road back.

Sorry, Boss- I had a Flat Tire

I was late to work today.

It threw me off all day long.

I mentioned to my boss some lame excuse.

What was I really to say?

“See, my son is in jail, & I’m glad but I still am wrenched with worry all night that he will get out in the night & in the day I hate when he asks for money for the phone or for actual real food or a bit of candy that we all crave but especially them when they are coming off heroin because I don’t want him trading it for drugs or calling his cronies to bail him out. After all, even though- he detoxed last weekend and became so suicidal and depressed that they put him on suicide watch and when I called the nurse she said they might pink slip him to the hospital so then I worried that he wouldn’t have a guard when I should be more worried that he’ll harm himself- he still has the mental obsession and cravings to use”………breath…


I can see the blank stare of “What am I supposed to do with that?” Look which I’m so accustomed to.

Continue reading Sorry, Boss- I had a Flat Tire

The Scream

The scream.

Johann Hari nailed it.

Except my scream is buried inside me.

I go through my day in auto mode. The little problems, the endless chitter-chatter.
Someone needs a bandaid or an Electrocardiogram.

A mom of one of my patients wants to talk about vitamins.


What about oxycodone? Or Heroin? Let’s talk about that evil bastard that ruined my life the last few years.
But I can’t. I have to pretend I care.
I have to BE NICE.
I can’t think of my son sitting in a jail cell with a bullet hole in his leg.

Continue reading The Scream

A Patch in The Grass

I bought this piece of grass specifically for my little Chihuahua to “go” outside on.

When I bought it, it didn’t ‘appear’ to have a dead spot.

I noticed another stack of sod had the dead spot. Obviously, they had a disease or some sort of malfunction in the seed or its development. But there were a few stacked up that didn’t. They “looked” normal, healthy. I picked from those. I thought I was good as gold.

My grass will never turn brown, It’s from a different breed. I’ll water it every day and give it sunshine & rake the weeds out. All the things.”

This picture is one month later. The spot appeared almost immediately. In panic, I tried everything: Dragging my hose through my house to water it (small condo living); sprinkled it with love and fertilizer and even coffee grounds! It persisted in it’s trajectory of showing up different.

I thought about that green grass and my babies. We “get” them as they are green and cute and innocent with no signs of trouble ahead. Even though we don’t have a “keep the sod green instruction manual”, we’ll be fine right? As long as we provide everything for their growth, we are bound to see the results we expect right?

When those first patches of brown appear, such as with substance abuse; we may panic a little. But our inner calming spirit tells us we are overthinking it because of the thousands of thoughts we’ve had before that turned out to be nothing. Someone may have told us we were being paranoid.

Of course. Why would MY child do THAT? They didn’t grow up in a brown patch sort of house. They wasn’t abused or given alcohol. Their every move wasn’t controlled, pushing their little independent spirits & feelings deep down inside them, haunting them until later, when their demons came out in full force.


They were free-loving country adventure-after-adventure kind of kids. How could this be a problem? How could there be a dark brown spot lurking there just awaiting the right set of circumstances to show its true ‘colors’.

Well, it did. Whether it was there all along or developed as a result of intense stress that life throws at an already vulnerable base.- it was here to show just how ugly it can be.

What to do, what to do…..

Yell at it? Berate it? Lock it up with a little chain link fence around it telling it to be like the other strong green blades of grass around it or ELSE?

That should do it. That should scare it into compliance.

After all, no one should DARE to turn brown in this war on drugs. As people look upon them with disgust and tell them they only get one or two or three chances and THAT’S it! Narcan? Pfewwww. You better learn the first time dude, or we will just watch you die – that will send a STRONG message to other vulnerable and lost people not to cross the line of when it’s socially acceptable to take something for the pain or emotional discomfort but not get addicted.

Everyone knows where that line is, right?

Maybe I’ll just try to love it.

Maybe I’ll just accept it where it is but not leave it there.

Yesterday, the otherwise green child of mine called from jail. He is in his Brown patch of life. His brain is riddled with confused fiery darts of hell telling him to get back out there and continue this gig just a little longer. But my boy is still there. He thanked me for answering. He said thank you for never giving up on me. He said:

“Please don’t ever give up on me- you don’t know what it feels like to have someone on the outside rooting for you.”

No he didn’t want anything. He had one 2 minute call in 4 days, he could have used it for requests or rudeness while his brain is mucked up with confusion. Instead he used it to thank me and my husband for not giving up on him.

That brown patch is begging for acceptance. It knows deep down that it’s not who it truly is. It knows it’s destined for greater things. It just can’t see the forest for the “dead trees”. It’s like honey I shrunk the kids and he’s in the center of that brown spot not able to see the solution.

I can help with that view.

I can stand in the gap between a future life of joy and his present life of turmoil and strife.

I can lead the way. Just like when he was a baby and scared to stand up and walk across the room to the couch. What if he fell? I can encourage him that’s it’s worth the risk.

"GET UP!! You CAN DO it!! You will never look back if you master this. 

Just walk to me son. ❣💙❣

Please pray for my Prodigal Son

For the story visit: Journeys.dartmouth

I’m asking for prayers tonight. My son is in jail on suicide watch as he is detoxing from very hard drug use. He is very sick and very depressed. He told me is only option is to hang himself.

Please pray for deliverance 🛐

Reposting this for good vibes and to command the fiery darts of the opposition to leave my son alone forever.

I had a dream last night.

I was trapped inside my house with some loud and intimidating people outside trying to get in. My family was there and I kept “trying to convince them”:

“Please don’t go out, please stay inside where it’s safe”.

My pleas landed on seemingly deaf ears, as my two eldest sons kept telling me,

“It’s ok Mom, we can handle it”.

Both of these beautiful boys struggle with SUD: one is functioning well and happy- the other is what this entire blog is based on.

I tried to pull them away from the door, like a worried Mom of curious toddlers who are determined to toddle out into the street. My boys went out anyway. In my dreamlike state, I remember thinking, at least they are together; which sadly, hasn’t happened in a year.

As I woke up from this nightmare, the following story was playing on my phone:

As I listened to the story of the prodigal son, tears stung my eyes. I didn’t put it on there, I didn’t search for it. What I did do- is pray daily – several times a day, for my son to have a spiritual awakening OR for someone to come into his life that could reach him, since I can’t. I pray for my family to come back together, un- fractured, cracking jokes again.

This experience is similar to This dream I had awhile ago.

What is the message?




Was this God’s way of telling me to BE STILL? God’s word spoken through a dream with my beautiful boys that I miss so dearly.

I suspect I need to stand down.

Allow for the work to be done.

"It's a relief to know I'm not in control anymore.......

The Count of Monte Cristo: Man’s Search for Happiness

Last night I had the pleasure of watching a live summers’ evening performance of “The Count of Monte Cristo”.

The Kadadl team says this: “The Count Of Monte Cristo’ is a novel written by Alexandre Dumas which follows the study of a betrayed human psyche.

The story revolves around the close study of the themes of justice, hope, mercy and vengeance. It follows the story of a person betrayed by his rival who ends up getting imprisoned wrongfully before gaining enough fortune to take his revenge”. –credit

“I don’t think man was meant to attain happiness so easily. Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: we must fight in order to conquer it.”

Alexandre Dumas, ‘The Count Of Monte Cristo’.

Conquering happiness?

That sounds like such a battle to be had. It doesn’t seem like it should be that difficult. “Shouldn’t” happiness just flow? Those warm fuzzy feelings of joy that ooze up on us, when we feel satiated with food or we feel the comfort of a soft pillow and fluffy blanket.

Those are simple pleasures of life that we sometimes wouldn’t call happiness.

Happiness Must mean 'everything is going fine, I'm prospering and all my kids are safe and happy'. 

That might be my definition of happiness. But, when all of those things are ever-so-not-slightly out of my control; I need to find a different definition.

In ‘The Count”, the hero/ victim/ villain has no choice but to find happiness in a stone cell, isolated and alone. He finds God through a fellow prisoner who digs his way into his cell. This elderly man almost seems like an illusion at times, in order to achieve some sense of sanity to the main characters dire circumstances. Whether the old man/wizard real or not, he is definitely Donte’s ticket to happiness.

What is our ticket? Where can we find our golden ticket?

Searching, yearning, and pining for happiness is a bit like a country song from when I was a teenager:

“Lookin’ for traces of what I’m dreaming of”….

These bits of happiness we seek, are already all around us, but we are unable to see them.

If we are constantly waiting for “our ship to come in”, we gonna-be-stranded-on-the-shore in our self-induced prison of misery. Expectations are killers in relationships, so are expectations of what our life “should” look like.

We “shouldn’t” SHUD-ON other people, so don’t SHUD-ON yourself.

Donte` probably didn’t pray or wish for an old man to pop up out of the ground to save him, but he might have made peace with his circumstances enough to create the space for the solution to seep in and envelope him in hope.

Holding space for others, is a gift to ourselves to practice 'the pause'.

Leaning In

Check out my latest post LEANING IN- a blast from my past.

Here’s an excerpt:

We’ve often heard the term LEANING IN as way to listen to hear and not to respond.

In Andy Goldsworthy’s film “Leaning In”, he sees it as one of two ways- You can either walk on the path or go through the hedge.
Trailer to leaning in

Throughout my life, I’ve always seemed to pick going through the hedge and the “most difficult” path, but it certainly has been the most adventurous.

On a family camping trip many years ago, we were going down a mountain path on the million dollar highway in Colorado. We were in a 25 foot motorhome we had rented for this adventure. I had 5 little kids in that tin box. As we headed down the steep, windy roads, my fears and imagination took a new level. I have always been afraid of heights and being on the passenger side seeing the edge and the seemingly endless bottom of the mountain, the thought of my precious cargo spiraling down the edge of that rocky cliff sent me into a panic.

I actually started yelling- half crying: “LEAN!!! Lean kids-towards the mountain!!!”

That was back in the days of not-as-strict seat belt use and I thought our 7 bodies leaning towards the driver side would stop our spiraling life in that moment!

Apparently, it worked. We survived! But for years, my kids never failed to tease me at every opportunity to LEAN! LEAN Towards the mountain! That day we stayed safe on the path. I leaned into (away from?) my fears, I suppose.

Brene Brown told Oprah many years ago, what I have now come to realize is true in regards to dealing with our emotions:

It’s he or she who’s willing to be the most uncomfortable can rise strong,” Brené says. “Discomfort: the way home.”It may be more tempting to lean away from discomfort with “a glass of red wine, or six,” Brené jokes, but leaning in is far more powerful.
Brene Brown-leaning into discomfort

Think about it, those who seem to have an “easy life” tend to be the ones who can handle far less. I’m not faulting them, everyone has a deck of cards they are dealt and they play them the best they can. For those born into wealthy and/or healthy families, I commend you.

I once had a co-worker who figured out that we both knew a mutual acquaintance. She proceeded to tell me what a wonderful human this person was and I wholeheartedly agreed. In my mind, though, I was thinking, “she’s had a cushy, easy life with a lot of supportive and wonderful family around, why wouldn’t she be?” Of course, I have since learned that appearances are misleading and we NEVER know what obstacles a person goes through personally, NO MATTER what they post on social media.

“A hard life builds character” the old-timers used to say. So then, if being uncomfortable (or doing hard things) is a way to work through our emotions, how do we help a new generation of kids stay true to their core selves and just BE OKAY with their emotions? How do we teach them not to distract themselves with wine or beer or electronics or sex..later.. of course? Maybe the answer is in the 8 steps to wellness that I outline in THIS POST

I think that if we practice acknowledging our emotions AT THE TIME, by giving ourselves the time and space to do that. I mean, how do you acknowledge sadness when you have to be at work in 5 minutes? You have a good cry, wipe your eyes, and go into work, I suppose. That’s what I do most days. Is it deflecting or ignoring it by doing the things we have to? I don’t think so. I think we have responsibilities with limited time and we still need to Get up & show up.

As long as we are giving ourselves the needed self-care AFTER work and ACTIVELY working on the 8 dimensions of wellness, we can learn to LEAN IN, MOVE FORWARD and be our BEST version of ourselves that we can be.

Rainy Day Morsels of Thought

From Matt Kahn


Aside from it being how spirit lives in its highest form, one reason an empath is encouraged to always be the bigger person, no matter how anyone else behaves, is because they are more able to grow compared to the collective mentality of the world. Through their awareness alone, they haven’t placed a lid on their expansion, other than the empowered choices they refuse to embrace.

Being the bigger person may initially seem unfair to an empath when surrounded by family or a society still asleep in the conditioning still playing out. And yet, the more often an empath says ‘yes’ to being the person anchoring love, peace, kindness, and compassion, despite the attitudes, projections, and triggers of others, the more an empath is nourished by their own alignment with Spirit instead of relying on others for the sustenance they crave.

All For Love,