it seems to me that healing is a process rather than a singular act. that each moment offers a gift for life and it is ours to choose now...and now...and now...and now. 

this moon marks seven years of sobriety for this body of mine; 87 moons have borne witness to the humility, acceptance, destruction and rebirth that this life has given me. watchful mothers in the celestial sky.

this is my story and i share it be a mirror for others who have struggled with addiction... but also to surrender the burden of perfection that I have continued to carry...

to walk in this world as if I have no demons.

as if there have not been moments where my life felt like it was on fire.

I mourn the small deaths:

how many songs went unsung.

how much love went ungiven.

the things i was afraid to birth because they fell outside the lines of who I thought i should be.

i have seen in sobriety that sometimes the greatest gift we can give ourselves is to simply break. because though that fracture holds the terror of also holds the freedom of living. 

and so this is my prayer:

as an artist, I hope I can be more brave: to let my voice roam and wander in untethered territory without it feeling the weight of my grip on its body and the eyes of judgement at its back.

as a woman,

I hope to surrender my shame. to remember that being “good” doesn’t mean I will be loved… 

that hiding my body or muting my sexuality doesn’t make me more virtuous or honorable than other women. I hope to remember sisterhood above all else. and to see in the victories and visions of women not my own lack, but a love for how much beauty the world can hold.

in my spirit, I hope to return again. and again. and again. and again. to the mouth of wisdom that is water and to the heart of love that is the earth. this is my prayer.