Resume of Life

Blog Resume of Life

After having the opportunity of dropping my hours at my corporate job this fall, an opportunity arose for an Assistant Management position in another department. Something was nagging on me to apply, even though that was the opposite approach I was going for. I know when there’s persistence behind it, there’s something to be learned, and whether I got the job or not, wasn’t the point. As I began the fun filled process of drafting a cover letter and resume, I realize the difficulty in writing, trying to “sell” myself, while trying to dissect parts of me that are most suiting for this position. Instead, I end up writing a different type cover letter and resume, with 3 things running in my mind:

1) If I had to sum my life up in 3-5 paragraphs, what would it be? 2) Why aren’t more important questions asked and addressed during these processes, you can learn so much more about a person from their personal triumphs and failures then you can asking repetitive, surface questions. 3) If you could give yourself advice, followed by the lesson of that decade, what would it be?

Welcome to my resume of life….I highly recommend everyone attempt writing their own, it’s amazing to see your life on paper, the triumphs and tribulations – all meshed together through the decades, forming pieces of you as you went, without even realizing it!

To The Director of My Career:

Due to the fact I didn’t fit well with the average student in the classroom or athletically in High School, I made myself known through rebellion instead. Even though my friends were members of the Honor Society and lettered in athletics, I had a knack for throwing a killer party, while also being the life of the party. Literally, life was one big party to me, whether under the influence or not, I lettered in communication!

Advice: you are more then what you’re made to feel by those around you and even more so, the stories you tell yourself to fit in. Don’t listen, nor cling to the negativity and insecurity – they are simply bad stories you tell yourself to mask the parts of you that feel as if she doesn’t fit in, in ways she’s “supposed” too.

Lesson – even the best party planner is not exempt from consequences and the realization that substances can only mask so much for so long. Know when you’re clinging to something too tightly, be it a person, place, thing, status or behavior – it doesn’t define you – I promise. Let it go, grieve it if you need too – but be ready for something better.

I entered my 20’s with the birth of my daughter, also known as my saving grace and the one amazing thing from this decade. For as scared as I was to be a mom, it became home immediately. The age of 23 marked what became the decade of trauma – or the 3 D’s – death, divorce and depression. This era included periods of wanting to tap out of life, more then stay in it. I was driven primarily by guilt, regret and anger, which were the few driving motivating emotions through the depression. I was reliant on needing to be “fixed” especially in the head, with that fixing came large doses of medication, then the need for more fixing with health ailments from their side effects. This became a new crutch, on top of the others that I whole-heartedly relied on. While trying to stay afloat and navigate my way through the fog, I don’t realize all of the things I’m learning about myself as I go.

Advice: Hold on – tight. These are the years of the most expansive self growth but hands down the most painful.

Lesson: You are the healer of you – keep going. You are an ocean – full of layers upon layers of traumas and triumphs, and every emotion in between. Even the ocean resurfaces some of it’s deepest buried treasures and skeletons. No one is exempt. You will always come home to you, there’s only so much hate, blame and anger you can extend outwards without realizing you are the only person that you will always have to face in the mirror.

My 30’s have been a breath of fresh air considering – like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I can finally see the light for more then a second in the drowning seas. Although the seas still manage to knock me around from time to time, swallowing me in the grief, heartache, guilt and shame – they’re reminding me I’m still human and what I have left to work on and heal. This is the decade where things have come to light again and again – an awakening of awareness. Just when I think I’m done working through something – it resurfaces in a new light – reminding me the work is always there, but so damn refreshing and liberating to push through once I’m able to see the view from the other side. Feels good to slowly but surely be free from the chains that have bound me through each era. Breaking away one at a time.

Advice: call it the new era of “mid-life crisis” if you may, but take it as an amazing opportunity to see life through a new lens. Even if it has to start over now, you’re still young enough to embrace it and start anew, while wise enough to have the past 2 decades’ knowledge to do it differently. 😉

Lesson: we’re all constantly learning, but learning to not think and act from a place of self hate has been the hardest to overcome. Its where you need to learn to be nicer to yourself, while breaking ideas around “right, wrong, good and bad” and do what feels right for you, giving yourself room to falter without judgement. We all have shadow sides, quit focusing and hating those parts so much, and accept it for what it is. You aren’t every skeleton. Continue to move along – it’s only going to get better.


Teens (1999-2002)

  • Amazing communicator (first comment at every conference since Kindergarten!)
  • Plans great parties
  • Always smiling and laughing
  • Rebellion to fit in and stand out at the same time
  • Prefers nothing except English and Psychology

Twenties (2004-2014)

  • Learned the definition of being a mother
  • Traded in being a rebel for people pleasing
  • More concerned with fitting in and being a “good” mom/person and outside perception of me
  • Trial and error career, all customer service based
  • Survivor of suicide, divorce, depression, high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and being dangerously over medicated
  • Drowned in depression, guilt, shame, self-hate, self-loathing, vodka, marlboros and toxicity (it became my new norm and home)
  • Learned living instead of dying
  • Still an amazing communicator – just wanna talk about the deep stuff

Thirties (2014-current) * All still a work in progress 😉

  • Learned what healing what the inside out meant
  • Advocate for a new paradigm around mental health
  • Jack of all trades, master of few, and ok with that
  • Learning to embrace the shadow side of myself
  • Learner of forgiveness in every sense of the word, while continually being forced back to the drawing board to reexamine it every time it reappears.
  • Overcomer of anger, guilt and shame
  • Sees the world through the eyes of an Aquarian, a dreamer of the bigger picture
  • Embracer of all that is right and just on a humanitarian level
  • Awakened to the ways of the world, behavior, emotion and trauma
  • Believe there is always a core far beneath the surface of the current issue, and a ripple that expands from it
  • Did I say an amazing communicator? 😉


  • Completion of the amazing ACTV8 program
  • Currently still enrolled in life lessons of forgiveness of self
  • Learning mental illness doesn’t mean broken with a fixed sign on it – only room for growth and expansion of self awareness

**If you could sum up your life resume with a word or sentence for each decade, what would it be? Any advice or major lessons learned from each?**

*If this resonates, feel free to share on social media!*


Internal Holiday Conflict

Here we are, with another Holiday season upon us. And for another year, I find myself battling internally around gift giving, especially as a parent. The new iPhone, name brand clothing, the latest gadgets, experiences or toys, as I’m adding and subtracting from the cart, I find myself in a stream of deeper questioning around what this means from a parental standpoint. Although I attempt not to play too intensely into the American Christmas “hype”, I still find myself scrolling the ads, doing exactly that. I battle internally with what is in reason, believing that humility comes from within, while also not wanting to be the parent that “robbed” their child of the “magnificence” that we’ve come to make this season about. You know, the shiny boxes under the tree, while trying to outdo ourselves from last year and keeping tabs on who gave what and how much was spent. While more families then not, stress themselves out even more as they see the bank account diminish and the credit card bills rise. I watch the store aisles flood as adults attempt to nail every gift on the list, outdoing themselves from last year, wanting so badly to put a “check” by each item on the list. And I think, am I being judged as a parent, because it feels that way, as if this is the ‘say all’ whether you make the ‘good parent/bad parent’ list! ha Or are we just that trained to judge ourselves around 2 days of the whole year? (I mean, for real, there’s alot of time, effort and energy that goes into this one event!) As I observe this, (both with myself and from afar) I still find myself buying into the BS, feeding myself lies that this will make them, (and us) happier, even though I know that all of these things won’t fill their happiness meter long term.

But then I think, perhaps because we too have been fed the bait, too out of touch to realize the nonsense it truly is? Bombarded by guilt and shame, parents give in so their kid doesn’t have to be the one to return to school without bragging rights. Just to say we have it because we can, because its deserved? To feed the ego and put another tally under the ‘had it’ column. Only to realize that the warm fuzzy feeling is more temporary then we gave it credit for. All the while I continue to shop, while also picturing the mouths it could feed, the bodies it could warm, the sadness it could actually cure with basic necessities, had I chosen to do it differently, like I say every year I’m going too. And even while I buy an extra bag for the food shelf and a toy for the toy drive and go on my way, there’s still something unfilling about my work and what feels like meaningless contribution. Perhaps there’s more to this ‘Holiday Cheer’ – perhaps it’s not under the tree, perhaps it’s not in the envelope, perhaps it’s not anything that you can ever buy or touch – but only teach them to give? Perhaps its being aware of the basics of what the season is actually about, when we take away all the material possessions we’ve trained ourselves to focus on. Maybe what we’re looking for, lies outside of what we’ve spoon fed ourselves to believe is the ‘magic’, maybe it’s on the dirty street corner, in the starving mouth, the abused hands, the addicts eyes, the elderlies stories. Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place this whole time, while we feed the big guys (corporate retail) with our plastic cards and green paper. As I scroll and add to the cart, I ponder what it is we’re doing or if we even know why. Am I doing it because I was told this is what you do? Attend a church sermon then go home and indulge in possessions? Am I doing service by her by giving it all to her? Or only teaching another generation this is just what you do? Am I teaching her the important lessons in life while allowing her the indulgence? And what I really want to know is, do any others ponder these same thoughts and questions as another holiday season comes to fruition? Do you find yourself wrapped up in the madness or stressing to just get through? Do you fear you haven’t done enough, or should do more to make it another “successful” Christmas?

Please, feel free to leave thoughts or comments!

Your Story

Blog - StoriesNovember 14th, 2007 marks the “9-11” of my world. A date that became a dreaded day in my history book, one that shook me to my core, a depth I didn’t know was possible. This day not only marked the death of my sister, but the death of me as the person I had become thus far in life. As the years have unfolded I’ve realized how many times I’ve died, how many old layers and stories I’ve shed. But as with any death, both physical and metaphorical – comes birth. It’s funny how much we don’t realize or focus on that. With every loss of a person, relationship, home or possession comes new opportunity – assuming we’re willing to see it. We spend so much time looking back at that closed door trying to figure out how we could’ve left it open, that we blind ourselves from seeing the beauty that lies ahead.

There are times I’ve wondered – had she not died, would I have still found my passion? Would I be transitioning out of the corporate world to focus on revolutionizing and bringing awareness to a new paradigm around mental and emotional health? Would I have learned the same valuable lessons personally so I could connect and teach others? Would I have realized that it has little to do with labels and more to do with the underlying components, the ones we’ve all suppressed and forced ourselves to bury and forget? Lets be honest, I’ve always been good at expanding and pushing the limits, but would I have done it in a way that caused more pain and disruption, instead of healing and liberation? Would I have started a blog? One that began with my own story and  shifted into the love of telling others real and raw stories? Ones not only of trauma and heartache, but of love and healing? Perhaps we’re all still going where we were originally headed, but her decision, one that left a ripple – shifted my course to this path. A path that has pushed me to the depths of some very dark valleys, and pushed me even harder up the mountains. I don’t want this to be my only story – her death was the start of my story, and one I hope overflows to many others stories. Your greatest strengths really do lie in your deepest pain. Those are the very wounds that are there for a reason you have yet to discover, the ones that will not only break you down – but to break you open. Those are the turning points in your life that are pushing to you to new depths. It isn’t about allowing this to be your only story, it’s about pushing yourself to a new one. It isn’t about going with the norm, it’s about reinventing the norm. And it isn’t about her death as much as it is the life that can be birthed from it. The realization that in a world that often feels hopeless, there is still plenty of it. And that starts with us – that starts with the death of old stories and the pain we’ve held so tightly too, and allowing ourselves to rise from it. Its about being true to ourselves, instead of attaching ourselves to others. This blog began with telling my own story, but has blossomed into the realization that we all have one to tell. It has made me realize it isn’t things or surface conversations that connect us, its real life pain and emotion that help us realize, we aren’t that different from each other. To realize we all have something to offer, because noone has the same story, with the same perspective and emotion as yours has held.

So I leave you with this – if you had to think of all the stories you had to tell, what one do you want people to know? Will you tell the one people see from the outside just to please their pallet? Or will you tell them the one that sits deep in your soul? Will you show up in the world in the way it wants you too, or will you show up in a way that offers a deeper truth? Are you allowing old stories to play on rerun, numbing what lays beneath the surface? I have many stories to tell over my life, and especially the past 10 years – all bits and pieces of me, but none of which own me. The story I want to tell 10 years later isn’t the same – in fact its message is very different – this time, its one of awareness, hope and liberation. And for that I am grateful. So thank you Josie for the never ending lessons as I navigate through, thank you for the reminder that your death is not for nothing and that all things can be born again if we allow them.


Beneath the Surface

Clouds Thailand 2017Have you ever stood in the mirror and wondered who you’re looking back at? Have you ever had moments of wondering how exactly you ended up here? Have you ever had times when a story is told and you can either replay it verbatim in your mind or barely remember being present? Are there times you’ve spent grasping for that moment in time to stand still? Or days you wish you would’ve held tighter too? Have you ever stopped and looked at your life like takes of a movie or book series – watching the chapters or sequels unfold? Have you ever been able to unidentify yourself with an old version of You – unable to connect with that part of your life anymore? Or perhaps find yourself grasping so tightly onto other parts – allowing them to hold more truth then they’re worthy of? Are there parts of your story you want to change, but unsure how? Of the thousands of shattered peices that make up you and your story, are there any you’d trade? Of the jigsaw puzzle what is are missing puzzle peices you’re still looking for? What peices are worn and tattered – ready to be recycled?

Do you look around wondering how it’s possible to raise children in a world so broken? Do you wonder how to support them in an age where media and electronics rule all? Do you wonder if their emotional needs are being met on a level that can best serve them? Are we failing as adults, parents, children and citizen? Even if we were – how would we make it better?

Craving connection on a level deeper then the surface? Feeling like you’re going through the motions of life without being able to stop and smell the roses? Wondering what your “theme” for this lifetime is? Ever wonder if there’s more beyond the everyday routine or what else this life could hold for you? Or better yet – have you taken the time out of the craziness of this life to ask or ponder? Because there is more to this rat race then we realize. There is still room for dreams beyond the ordinary. There is still room for healing, for revolutions beyond the everyday chaos. Do you believe it?

Outside In – ED with Angie


For anyone that has ever watched anyone die of any type of a disease, you know how absolutely horrific it can be. To know that something is stronger then them, and even with significant help of modern medicine, they’re unable to fight it off or overcome it. To watch someone try and fight so hard  for something, that in the end can takes their life, is beyond heartbreaking. To know that no matter how hard you try, or the resources you put in front of them, it’s nothing compared to what has overtaken them. A feeling of helplessness overtakes every part of you as watch the disease win.

It is through Mallory and Kayla’s stories that we are given the opportunity to learn from those who have walked this lonely path and bring forth awareness to our own words and actions regarding such matters. Because even though it may be possible that your child won’t directly deal with these diseases, there’s a good possibility that one of their friends may. After all, 1 out of 2 girls between the ages of 11 and 13 consider themselves overweight. By you being educated on these topics, you can have simple conversations with your kids, spouse, students, grandchildren, nieces and nephews – which in turns opens the door for conversation about a friend they may know that is struggling. This conversation plants a new seed that trickles down, making others around you more aware of what they’re saying regarding body image, while also being a support for their peers. You are planting the seed of knowledge, awareness and hope – which is something we need more of in this world. This isn’t something to be feared – for fear only closes the door of safety, leaving adults and children alike to feel even more isolated and alone.

When we choose to break down the barriers of these conversations, we open up room for something bigger, an opportunity to offer support and acceptance to others. I hope you are able to take from all of these entries, a new respect for those who have endured this disease themselves, as well as those who have stood on the other side – forced to watch those they love be overtaken by something, that while they thought they could control, only in turn, began to control them. Here are their stories.

My name is Angie Murphy and I would like to share with you our story of how an eating disorder turned our lives upside down. Anorexia Nervosa by definition is an emotional disorder characterized by an obsessive desire to lose weight by refusing to eat. This crippling disease took the life of our oldest child, Kayla, on July 13, 2013, 18 days before her 23rd birthday. Kayla was everything we could’ve asked for, she slept thru the first night home from the hospital, potty trained at 21 months, and learned to talk at a young age. As Kayla grew up she always appeared confident. She tried basketball, played in band and was even named Miss Kellogg. In doing all these things Kayla began to strive for perfection, which in time, we learned that perfectionism is or can be a starting point of an eating disorder. I remember her doing home work in 9th grade, she would be up all night re-writing things to make sure it was perfect. This perfectionism started to play a roll in her health, she would be up very late every night, not getting enough sleep, not eating properly, and always stressed out. We as parents, nor her teacher understood what was going on. We just thought she was concerned about getting good grades for college and was working way too hard to obtain them.

It was right before Kayla started 10th grade, that she made a comment about wanting to starting eating healthier. This wasn’t something that seemed alarming because we were always on the run and had a tendency to not always eat healthy. By January Kayla had lost a lot of weight, again we attributed it to the stress and anxiety from all her home work. My husband, Marty, said she needed to see a doctor to figure out what was going on. It was at this time the doctor diagnosed Kayla with an eating disorder and that some of her organs were in the beginning stages of organ failure. Our Doctor then referred us to Park Nicollet for admission to treatment. Kayla was so good about cooperating, but too far under the control of the eating disorder that she didn’t really understand how deadly this disease could be. But then again, none of us really did.

As we were going thru this whirl wind of facing the reality that our daughter has an eating disorder, we were so confused. My sister-in-law, Jean, also had an eating disorder (anorexia nervosa and bulimia), being that we didn’t live near her, we were never educated on the mental illness. Like so many others, we didn’t understand why she just couldn’t eat.  Kayla and our son seen how the eating disorder would cause someone to act in such a self destructive manner. But because we were not educated on the mental illness none of us understood why it couldn’t be fixed. We didn’t understand the signs that had built up to  the point of where Jean was at. This really goes to show you how naive we were to this mental illness. Eating disorders were something people didn’t talk about. That’s why it is so important to talk about them – to stop the stigma and to educate everyone on the early signs.

When Kayla was admitted to Park Nicollet in the Twin Cities we were so scared. She was there for several weeks, but bound and determined to beat it! After inpatient and weeks of driving daily 180 miles round trip to the Twin Cities so she could do outpatient treatment, she had almost restored her weight and learned coping skills on how to fight off what is referred too as the eating disorders “voices”.

Between 10 and 12th grade Kayla worked with several psychologists, some helpful more helpful then others, but during this period home life was horrible. Between the four of us, I felt like I had to always be there to make everyone’s life better. My husband and son wanted to help, but that usually ended up in arguments. Being so naïve to the disease, we really didn’t know how best to help Kayla at home. Eating disorders are so difficult. Sometimes when you try to encourage them, you are actually feeding the disorder. The tension at home was an everyday occurrence. We are a very close family but there were days I didn’t know if we could continue to live together. Our son didn’t really say a lot, he watched, but I know it was very painful to see his sister go through this. Fighting this disease takes everything out of them and you

Kayla was in and out of treatment several times over the four years she was in college. The most frustrating thing was when she turned 18 and legally became an adult. The doctors no longer had to tell us anything and Kayla could discharge herself from treatment when  she wanted. She wanted to get better so bad but the voices were so strong that it was hard for her to always make decisions that were most beneficial for her overall health and well being.

There are only a few treatment centers in Minnesota and Wisconsin that work specifically with eating disorders. The problem at that time, was they were so inconsistent on treatment methods. Many would get the patient to a stable point and then release them to go home. There wasn’t much guidance on helping the patient and family find a qualified psychologist or psychiatrist. They didn’t teach you how to go grocery shopping or how to really cope outside the treatment center. There wasn’t family education centers or meetings like they have now, that help you better understand the disease, or support groups to speak to other families that are going through the same thing, for additional support.

I think my husband was more realistic about Kayla’s passing, he never said it, but always worried about losing her. I was always a little more optimistic. I spoke with Kayla everyday and she was always trying to fight the voices, reminding her to stay strong. We would search for new doctors to help in anyway possible. Because the disease was so strong on top of a genetic link, I didn’t think Kayla would ever really have a full recovery, but I never imaged it would take her at age 22.

We will never have the answers to understand why this happened. After Kayla passed we were amazed by how many people came forward and said if it wasn’t for Kayla and her story they wouldn’t be here today. Kayla was such a caring and giving person. She touched so many lives, and that is our inspiration. Through this whole journey she/we were never ashamed of what we were going through, so we will continue to tell her story and continue to reach out to help others that are also dealing with eating disorders. We will continue to help educate where we can, continue to help raise money for the National Eating Disorders Association and The Emily Program Foundation in the Twin Cities. Kayla lived by many sayings, but two of my favorites were – “be the best you can be today because tomorrow is not promised to any of us” and “we can stand still and watch, or we can stand strong and fight”.

Do you feel there are other driving factors that reinforce eating disorders aside from genetics?

Yes! Eating disorders aren’t the average dinner table conversation. Which is why it is so important to talk about them – to stop the stigma and to educate everyone on the early signs. Eating disorders can show up for a variety of reasons, they aren’t just learned behaviors, it can be genetic, or how they are “wired”. I also believe society plays a big role in these types of diseases. There is a lot of pressure to be beautiful, to be thin, to be smart, and to be successful. This is a lot of pressure for our children at any age and I feel these are also triggers that start the process. Anxiety, depression, OCD and/or feeling as if they can’t measure up or aren’t good enough, can be some of the beginning signs of eating disorders or the onset of mental illness. As they grow and these issues and thought process strengthen, they start to control their life. We start to look for ways to find control in our lives and as a result, our body chemicals used for coping – diminish. This makes it the perfect time for an eating disorder to develop. What starts as having control over something, eventually begins to control you.

This isn’t just something that effects girls either, I do feel young boys are taught that they should have that perfect “10” for a girlfriend. This leads to a lot of bullying to those that don’t fit the bill or measure up to the standards that our society, communities and peers place. It is both genders that have this perception of being “perfect” in all realms. There are continually more boys/men that are being treated for eating disorders as well. We see this when we look at the pressure sports puts on our athletes. Telling them they need to be lighter to wrestle or leaner to run faster. It’s another aspect of their life they feel pressure from and one they may feel they have more control over. This plants a seed that weight is the driving force behind their performance. We, as a society, put attention in places where it’s least effective and needed, planting seeds that grow into something damaging. Which begins building forests of judgement and stigma around important and necessary issues such as these.This may not be something that affects everyone, but with millions suffering from eating disorders it is definitely something to be concerned and talked about.

Have you noticed an increase in education around Eating Disorders since Kayla was in treatment?

Yes, it’s getting there. They are now working on requiring teachers to be more educated on the signs that may lead to early detection of an eating disorder. Early high school age is a common time for eating disorders to develop but there is no age limit. Eating disorders have been diagnosed in children as young as five, but people such as Jean, who passed away from Anorexia Nervosa wasn’t diagnosed until she was in her late 20’s. Again, it starts with the conversation around it, just being more aware of it, asking more questions, and being advocates for each other – within the homes and the schools. We are gaining ground, slowly but surely.

*If you or anyone you know may struggle with a possible eating disorder, please know there is resources and help! Please contact any of the following

NEDA (National Eating Disorders Association)

The Emily Program at

Foundations such as these are vital in our communities to help others struggling with Eating Disorders. Just as we help fund many other research facilities, these programs are equally important and often don’t the attention they deserve, due to lack of awareness. Please consider donating to The Emily Program Foundation at

**Please share this important story and topic on social media, for you never know who could benefit!**

Inside Out – E.D. with Mallory


 “Why can’t you just eat?” “Why don’t you quit eating?” “Why would anyone want to vomit after every meal? Gross!” “Why can’t you control the thoughts in your head?” “Why can’t you just be happy?” “Why can’t you just calm down?” “Did you see how much weight she’s gained – Ew!” “Put some meat on those bones” “If you were hotter – I’d date you” “God I’m so huge” “I hate my body” “I wish I looked like her” “Why did I have to get my mom’s hips?” “Is it so much to ask to be Beyonce?”

Welcome to the 21st century – where a majority of today’s focus rests on physical appearance. Too fat, too skinny, thighs are too big, ass could be bigger, take some from the gut, put it in the breasts, oh and the extra could be nicely added to the lips, I mean we hate to waste any, God only knows there’s plenty to spare! Welcome to the thought process of a majority of today’s population! If we don’t say them, I can guarantee we think them far more then anyone cares to admit! Whether about others or ourselves, the fact that this much thought goes into one aspect of the millions of things that make up a person – is a problem.

These are the ugly little seeds that are constantly being planted in not only our heads, but our kids’ heads on a daily basis. We stand in a check out line at the grocery store to thumb through the latest magazine with the latest named sexy actress, they watch commercials with half naked men and women, they hear adults talk about how much weight they’ve gained or how they shouldn’t be eating anymore, we hear men laugh and joke about sexist remarks or the ass on the waitress, or the lyrics to songs that reinforce what a “10” should look like.  Adults and children alike are constantly being reminded of the importance we’ve placed on body image – what seems harmless is often more harmful then we believe. We are setting precedence of what is the “norm”, leaving people to think that the only way to ‘fit in’, to be accepted or to be worthy of love – is to mirror these size 2 women, or ripped men. The fact is, that constant conversation, in any manner, around body image, good or bad – is the overall problem. You add these subconscious thoughts to a child who already struggles with things such as depression, anxiety, bi-polar, OCD or just plain fitting in, and you’ve set them up for a psychological disaster that could easily put them into place where control is no longer theirs.

This is a 2 part series on eating disorders, this entry showing what the inside looking out looked like from Mallory’s viewpoint. Angie will tell us what it was like from the outside looking in, watching her daughter endure, and eventually losing her life from Anorexia. This is another issue few care to familiarize themselves with because we often feel it’s nothing we need to worry about with our children. However, I think you, like I was, may be more surprised then you think about the stigma, signs and symptoms that can be associated with these diseases.

My name is Mallory Schad and I am in recovery from an eating disorder. My hope in sharing my story is that I can help shatter the stigma wrapped around mental illnesses. Yes, eating disorders are a mental illness, it’s not something you choose. I believe I was born with this disease. I believe I will always battle this disease, but most of all, I believe I can conquer this disease. Here is my story.

What was your “official diagnosis” and what does that mean via text book – more importantly – what did that mean to you? Has this been something that has always plagued you?

For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with body image. I was a “tomboy” growing up. I wasn’t your typical “girly girl” – I liked hanging with the boys, and dressing like one. My mom was supportive of my taste and always took me shopping in the boy’s department. She never tried to change me, nor told me I needed to look a certain way. So, for the most part, I dressed like a boy. That’s what I liked. Often times in public, I was mistaken as a boy. I felt ashamed of what I looked like, due to others’ reactions and perceptions of me. It was confusing. I was just being me. What is wrong with being me?

It was 7th grade where I finally gained some freedom from outside remarks regarding my gender. I was becoming more interested in make-up and grew my hair long. Funny how people stop ridiculing when you seem to appear “normal” or fit a mold that makes them comfortable. Aside from the harassment I endured from outsiders concerning my gender, there was another factor that I believe played a role in my developing disorder. As a 7th grader, I was a young athlete participating in sports at a higher level. Because of this, I became close with peers and fellow athletes that were older then me on a daily basis. I looked up to them and I felt like they had taken this shy little 7th grader under their wings. I was thankful for them. Exposure goes with the territory of hanging with students older than you. The topics I discussed with my friends in school, were very different from those that I overheard after school during practice. Topics discussed were natural for young girls their age, but for a 12 year old, it was very eye-opening. These girls were going through puberty and experiencing their bodies changing and developing. Naturally, I then became aware of my own body. I remember hearing others talk negatively about the size of their bodies. Comments were made about “being fat” or “having big legs”, etc. I remember a teammate crying at Cross Country practice, telling the coach she “had more weight to carry”, therefore had a harder time keeping up. I knew the weight had nothing to do with her performance. She was not overweight.

I stepped on the scale as a 12 year old and glared at the number I saw staring back at me – 89 pounds. You can’t let yourself get above 89 pounds. I remember feeling scared for having that thought go through my mind. I didn’t know where it came from, so I brushed it aside. I started becoming more aware of my changing body. I was gaining muscle as an athlete and noticed my thighs getting bigger. They touched when I walked. How come the other girl’s thighs don’t touch when they walk? How come my thighs are so HUGE??? “I HATE my thighs”. Fast forward to 9th grade. It was the beginning of Cross Country season. Apparently, I had grown over the summer people felt it was necessary to comment on other people’s bodies, as if it was worthy of discussion. I’ll never forget having 3 people in one day comment on my weight gain. “You look bigger out there running – Strong! Other people had noticed it too. That one stuck with me. I didn’t hear the “strong”, I heard the “bigger”. I went home after practice and paced in the garage. I was filled with rage. “Why was my body anybody else’s concern? I was pissed. I only wished I stayed pissed and didn’t turn that rage inward on myself.

I remained aware of my body through high school. As I entered 11th grade I started developing some disorder behaviors. I purged for the first time when I was 15. It wasn’t then that I fully engaged in this disordered behavior, but I definitely played around with it. During college, I experienced the inevitable “freshman 15”. I was 23 when I started binging and purging. This cycle went on for about 5 months, I’d lose weight and people would notice. They commented. I continued in my cycle of destruction. I saw a psychiatrist because I knew my behavior was unhealthy, but inevitably stopped going. I didn’t think I needed the help. I somewhat snapped out of that cycle of destruction for the time being, only for it to return.

When at your lowest, what did your mental, physical and emotional state consist of? If you could give us a briefing on what went on in your world on an average day, as well inside your head – what would that look like for you.

At the age of 24 I moved to Bemidji, MN for a change of pace. This became the best and worst time of my life simultaneously. In the fall of 2012 I decided I needed to step up my game to get in shape for my cousin’s upcoming destination wedding that February. What started as going to the gym, quickly became being obsessed with the numbers on the exercise machines. Every day I worked out – having to run longer, while increasing resistance and burning more calories. Something HAD to be more intense than the day before.

I was diagnosed with Orthorexia. For those of you wondering, the ‘text book’ version of Orthorexia is an “unhealthy obsession” with otherwise healthy eating, a term which literally means “fixation on righteous eating.”Along with this came the same mindset around food. Everything had to be strictly “the best”. When the various work out regimens weren’t enough, I decided I wanted to get back into running. I ran every day. It was my outlet, or so I thought. Every time I ran, I had to beat the pace from the day before, always having to push myself harder. This sort of mind set is what sent me into a downward spiral. It was “all or nothing” for me. There was no grey. Black and white thinking was my new norm. 

At my lowest weight, I was not living a life for myself anymore. I was living for the disease. There was zero space in my mind for anything other than disordered thoughts. I was consumed. My dietary intake became very rigid. I developed numerous food rules which included constant restrictions, followed by punishing behaviors. Anything else I ate outside of my obsessively strict and rigid guidelines, was done because I was in the company of others, because I felt I needed to hide my odd eating habits. This was my “FIT IS THE NEW SKINNY”. This was my “I’M GETTING HEALTHY” bullshit the media feeds you to believe. But nope, this was something else. This was the diet industries damaging message it sends to the public. Eat this, not that. Do this, to look like this. Looking like this, will make you happy. Wanting to look a certain way, became an unattainable nightmare.

 I was also diagnosed with body dysmorphia. Perhaps for some people they can work out and maintain a rigid diet and truly be healthy and happy. For someone fighting a mental illness, it became insanity.

I became so obsessed with counting calories that I started purging to restrict my caloric intake. I would eat small portions of food, believing them to be large, and then purge afterward. Often times after eating, I would feel such intense guilt and anxiety. Purging became my escape from the anxiety. Sometimes during the day I would go in a cycle of eating and purging for hours. I slept a lot to keep my mind from thinking about food. I wanted to eat all this delicious food that everyone else was having around me, but I couldn’t allow it. It was simply off limits. 

I also developed behaviors called “body checking”. I would measure my wrists and certain parts of my body. I would put certain articles of clothing on to make sure they were still lose, or that they were becoming more lose. I would look for protruding bones in my body, running my hands over them obsessively to make sure I could still feel them. I would take “progress pictures” and compare what I looked like previously to past pictures. I was so fixated on gaining muscle. I couldn’t pass a mirror without looking in it. But the thing was, my mind was playing tricks on me. Of course those bones aren’t protruding anymore and the pants are growing tighter and you look huge in those pictures.” Back to the gym, and you better go to bed hungry”.  The anxiety around that was paralyzing. This cycle was on repeat and this was what day in and day out consisted of for 2 years.

In the end, I did lose the weight. I did gain muscle. Physically, on the outside, I looked “fit”. I received compliments regarding my appearance, which only fueled the fire inside to keep the cycle going. What I wasn’t noticing at the time, was that it was never enough. I could lift a certain amount of weight, run a certain distance at a certain pace, but nothing was ever good enough. There was always room for improvement. This was my high, but also my imprisonment, my punishment. I often times got down on myself for not being a better student in college and partying too much in my early 20’s. I felt like I was turning my life around by achieving this “healthy lifestyle” and that I was making better choices for myself.  I wasn’t healthy though. I was exhausted all the time. My memory was shot. I would blackout often, felt weak and suffered with chest pain due to tears in my esophagus from purging.

Mentally, I felt at complete war with myself. I was not living my life at all. I was living for the disease. I was on a high from “controlling” my dietary intake and working out, but at the same time was severely depressed and didn’t know it.  

What were the general feelings that arose around food in general?

Immense fear. My underlying anxiety just overflowed to food, instead of having anxiety without consumption, I had it with the consumption. If I was consuming something I deemed “safe” I felt empowered. If I was out to eat, or eating something with family or friends that was not my choosing, I felt immense fear and anxiety. I wondered how it was prepared, and what ingredients were involved, which led to panic. I was not shy about sneaking off to purge the food either.

There was also sadness and guilt. I knew what I was doing was unhealthy, but I couldn’t stop because it made me feel so good. When I was eating inside my comfort zone it felt like a high. Everything was a judgement on myself, I obtained self-satisfaction by controlling my urges to eat what was doomed to be “bad for me”.

Grocery shopping took hours. Food was strange for me. Think of it as a drug that you only need a bit of. How do you start or stop when you feel so out of touch with the reality of it? When it controls you?  How do you develop a healthy relationship with it? Food is sort of like drugs in a sense, but also very different – because you need it to survive.

At what point were you aware this had become something beyond your control that needed professional help?

After being told by a doctor I was clinically malnourished, I started seeing a counselor, but she didn’t specialize in in eating disorders. In fact, noone in my area did! In all honesty I figured since I was there, I’d just get some good life counseling and tips to get myself back on track with school since it had taken the back burner to my rigid exercise routine. Besides, I never said I had an eating disorder, I just had “tendencies”.

After about a month, the counselor asked me if I’d consider inpatient. I thought she was crazy – no way! Eventually, she said she couldn’t help me, as she didn’t want to see me walk through the door again continually wasting away.  She quoted me previously saying “I’d give anything to have a healthy relationship with food” and made the analogy that – walking into a grocery store is like shopping for drugs for someone with a drug addiction. It’s insane. She told me it was time to seriously think about treatment. And I did. I called the Emily Program in the Twin Cities on a Friday and was admitted the following Monday.

                    How many times did you attempt help and was it actually helpful?                           If so, what parts did you feel were most detrimental in your journey to healing?

I attempted to seek help a few times, but was never committed. I would lie to counselors and tell them I was better. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t get help until I was completely submersed in my disease.  Eating disorders are really good at telling you that you don’t need help, or that you’re “not sick enough”. Master manipulators they are. It’s tough, because there is so much emphasis surrounding healthy eating and exercise, that it can be hard to tell when you have crossed the line into unhealthy habits.

How long have you been “free” so-to-speak from this disease and who are you since this journey as you continue to heal?

The decision to choose treatment over the comfort of the disorder was the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make. I knew my world would be flipped upside down. I knew it would be hard. I did 4 months of intensive outpatient. 4 days a week I would spend the day at the Emily Program. Re-feeding, dietary classes, group therapy, individual therapy and yoga. I’m not going to lie, the process was painful, but also very liberating learning to disconnect and free myself from it.

My mental state was at an all-time low. I struggled with suicidal ideation, major depressive disorder and anxiety. My body was in immense pain for a few months from the changes it was enduring. Week by week though, I learned about the disease and how to cope. I had no choice but to choose recovery after having my eyes opened to the dangerous lifestyle I had been living.

I’d say it was about 3 months after completing treatment that I became comfortable talking about the disease. I was still very uneasy and untrusting of my body right after treatment. It took some time to take the skills I had learned in treatment and put them to use on my own. I slowly became comfortable with the process and became more open to discussing it.

Today, I want to speak more freely and openly about the disease. I want people to be aware of it and to understand it. It’s so very misunderstood and there can be so many varying layers to it. I want people to know they are not alone, and most importantly that they are not abnormal for having the thoughts/behaviors they do. I want people to know there is help out there and that it’s possible to be freed from this deadly and agonizing disease.

Do you feel this still controls a large part of you, or something you’ve been able to slowly distance yourself from?

I have my good days, bad days, and everything in between. For the most part, my days are good, but there are days I still struggle with my current size and weight. There are times I wish I was smaller, or more fit. But then I remember what I felt like when I was those things. I wasn’t happy. I was sick. I was slowing wasting away in all aspects. Every day takes work. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t have to stop myself at some point and revert my thinking. It’s been 2.5 years since treatment.

I still struggle. I’m not where I used to be, but I know it’s going to take time. I’ve come a long way and I feel hopeful that it will only get better. It took a lot of work to get to where I am now.

What do you feel is the biggest driving force behind eating disorders? 

It can be very different for everyone, but often times I think it’s a fight for control mixed with societal beauty standards. But more times then not, eating disorders tend to mask other issues. I know for me, when I was in the depths of the disorder, it wasn’t beauty driven. It was about control, obsession and perfectionism. I had underlying issues that I needed to deal with and focusing on “getting healthy” felt like I was bettering myself.  I was masking.

I think the younger generations are very susceptible to developing eating disorders. There is a lot of pressure to fit in and look a certain way. I also believe that eating disorders do not discriminate. Any person at any age can fall victim to the disease.

How has this changed the course of your life? Is this a topic of conversation you feel deserves more time and light?

I’m not really sure how it’s changed the course of my life. I want to reach out to others and make myself available. My goal is to be a mentor to those struggling and to spread awareness and education. I want to help others along their path as I continue to learn, grow and heal myself.

Eating disorders take more lives than any other mental illness. That’s a staggering statistic, so yes, this disease absolutely deserves more time and light.

If you could speak to this age group- or any girls/women/men either at that turning point in their life-or already suffering, trying to hold on- what would you say?

I would tell them there is more to life than what they are desperately holding on to. That I know how terrifying it is to let go of the comfort the eating disorder provides, but that nothing compares to the freedom that treatment and recovery provide.

Help is out there. Trust in others. Trust in the process. Find a support system and reach out to people. Treatment and recovery is a real ugly bitch. It rips you wide open. You have to take a good look at yourself and question what you want for yourself in this life. I’d tell them it’s tough, but it’s so worth it. Most of all, it might not be your hardest battle in life. Choosing to fight preps you for the rest of whatever life throws at you. You learn about yourself, and you learn how to truly enjoy life.

I would tell them that we are all individuals and that we all have struggles. To look within and figure out what it is that is causing pain – really dig into it. Often times, eating disorders are masking a bigger problem.

*If you or anyone you know may struggle with a possible eating disorder, please know there is resources and help! Please contact any of the following

NEDA (National Eating Disorders Association)

The Emily Program at

Foundations such as these are vital in our communities to help others struggling with Eating Disorders. Just as we help fund many other research facilities, these programs are equally important and often don’t the attention they deserve, due to lack of awareness. Please consider donating to The Emily Program Foundation at

**Please share this important story and topic on social media, for you never know who could benefit!**

Outside Looking In – Jodell

Blog - Jodi - Josh 2.jpgWhen you stand on the other side of watching someone steering their life into oncoming traffic in slow motion – painful is an understatement. Imagine watching your parent, child, best friend or spouse play russian roulette. You know at some point, the bullet will fire from one of the chambers – it’s just a matter of if they quit before it does. While you know the ultimate outcome, they grin and continue on – willing to gamble.

This is what it can feel like when you stand and watch someone unravel at the seams as they continually pull the trigger – or – pop another pill, snort another line, smoke another joint, chug another glass or fill another syringe. You can’t understand why aren’t they aren’t just fixing it, why can’t they see it, why would anyone in their right mind feed themselves poison and consume it willingly?! It’s a slow motion horror film.

Jodi and I have had countless conversations regarding this as years have passed and it’s also something that has been a hot topic within my own family. I don’t know if there is such a thing as a “right” or “wrong” answer. I don’t know if it’s possible to save to another, or if you should continuing to enable or cutting ties is what’s best. Or, at what point it’s enabling and what point it’s handing them the bullet and placing it in the correct chamber for them. I do know that these entries, from cancer, to addiction to eating disorders (stay tuned;) ) have brought to light the many facets of disease and the choices we make with them. Sometimes knowingly engaging in what could very well be their quickest way to death, sometimes holding out for anything and everything to avoid it. Disease can eat at us in ways we didn’t know possible, in ways we’ve never identified with before, or taken the time to consider how closely related they truly are. This entry builds off of Joshua’s – showing what the view from the outside looking in can be like. And, as always, it isn’t always as it seems.

Thank you Jodi for reminding me that “right” or “wrong” isn’t always that easy – that love looks different in many realms. Sometimes that means engaging, sometimes it means letting go – despite the pain. But it almost always means trusting – trusting that they’ll come through it when, and as they are willing or need too. Trusting that they remember that help is available when they’re truly ready. Trusting that as the stigmas vanish with time, this will open up new doorways of conversation, lessening the need for division and lack of hope and resources. Your stories are the exact ones the world is needing to hear right now – the realness, rawness and truth behind them, in what seems like a fake, false and untruthful world right now! To hear what may have felt like failure, only to rise and overcome the darkness – these are the things we need more of going through our news feeds. Thank you for sharing your personal story! 🙂

Describe your and Josh’s relationship growing up…at what point did that relationship begin to change?

My brother was one of my best friends growing up, we are only 16 months apart. We were average country kids, always four wheeling, riding bike, hanging out under the bridge on I-90, and jumping off the house! (Yeah, we actually did that for fun, when you live in the country you have to be more creative!) Granted, we had our typical sibling fights, but most of the time we had a lot of fun! In high school we would go to the same parties and we hung out with the same group of friends. It was so much fun to have him there, I always felt like I never had to worry about things much because he was always there. He was always, in my eyes, was someone that everything came easy to him – national spelling bee champion in middle school, extremely smart,  and athletic. The kind of guy that others would be jealous of! I know I was, I struggled with math in school (still do!) and it just comes so easy for him. I would study so hard and he didn’t even show up to class and he’d still pull good grades.

Looking back, everything that we did – involved partying – I guess that was just the “norm” for a small town. Once we graduated high school I moved to the Twin Cities and then to Mankato. Josh was a bit of a wanderer and always seemed to show up where ever I lived and I loved to have him there because he was always the life of the party! It did, however, start to change.

He couldn’t keep a job, began to get DUI’s and was always in trouble with the law – which, in time, meant that every time he would call or stop over, I knew that he wanted something. I would let him stay or give him money – whatever I could do; he was my brother and that’s what family is for – right? I was kicked out of an apartment because he kept coming in through the window and kicked out of the bar I worked at for fighting. It was hard to not be able to have my brother even come in while I was working, so I begged the owner to give him another chance – but that didn’t last long. He went from being the life of the party to the one who usually ruined the party. In the beginning when people would ask are you Josh’s sister I would love to say “yes”, because it usually followed with “man I love that guy, he is so funny!” followed by a crazy story about him. But, that also changed with time – it became, “Oh man I can’t believe that you are his sister – that guy is fucked up or he owes me money.” I have watched him get his head bashed into a metal step by three guys, get his face smashed into a curb, seriously countless fights – too many to even remember. He had an attitude where he honestly didn’t give a shit – fearless was an understatement.

Did you always know there was a true “problem”? At what point did you realize this was bigger than recreational and fun? What were signs that made you aware he was using?

Josh was in treatment for drinking the first time when he was about 14. I, of course didn’t think it was a problem, because even at that age, it was just the “norm”. Even when we were in our 20’s, he had been getting pretty bad and was in trouble with the law countless times, didn’t even have a licence or a job for years – I still thought this is just something that he will out grow. The drug use always seemed recreational from my stand point as well. He would say that he could quit whenever he wanted. He would smoke weed but decided he didn’t really like, which then led to cocaine, then ecstasy. I still thought it was just something that would pass – no one ever says “I want to be an addict when I get older” – so I just figured it would stop. The drinking kept getting worse and with that, so did the drugs. I knew he had a full alcohol problem when he was in his early 20’s but I also knew that he wasn’t ready to change. By this time he had been in treatment several times. We had countless family days were my mom, dad and I would go and leave thinking “this is the time it is going to work” but it never did – it just kept getting worse. There were so many times I would have to go pick him up and he had no idea where he was or how he got there and he was usually driving on a revoked license. The last time he was in treatment I thought this might be the one that sticks.

He had picked up some hitch hackers on 35 and ended up at my camper in clear lake, IA. I told him staying there wasn’t an option, but Josh was so messed up I didn’t know what to do. So, I gave him some food hoping they would eat because god knows the last time either of them had. They went to a state park a couple of miles from our campground and continued to party. I don’t know what they were taking but Josh had his usual liter of vodka almost gone, looking for more alcohol. We got into a fight and I told him to leave, but when he left – he was so messed up he thought he was taking the road but went right through the playground. There were kids playing and he was within a few feet of hitting a child that was coming down the slide. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. I ran after him as well as many others, but he didn’t stop – he didn’t even realize that he did that. It was the worst feeling I have ever had in my life – watching him come so close to possibly killing someone, none the less a child! The next day he called and said he needed help. My dad and I took him to the Fountain Center once again, on the ride I told him about what happened and he just cried and screamed, telling me not to talk about it – he didn’t want to know! See the thing is, my brother is one of the best guys you will ever meet, with one of the biggest hearts so the thought of this possibility would have destroyed him – my whole family in fact. They said his blood alcohol level was so high he should be dead. These scenarios were countless – things like this just kept happening on repeat.

At one point, he was in an alcohol induced comma, when we got to the hospital, they advised us to prepare ourselves to say good bye to him. Miraculously, he woke up and 3 days later was out of the hospital and the first stop was the liquor store. This would not be our last trip to a hospital with him either. His heart has stopped completely three times and had OD’d on heroin twice (that I know of). To be honest I don’t know why he is still on this earth with us. I knew he had a drinking problem  and his use in coke and ecstasy  had increased but it hadn’t crossed my mind he could die from it…. As horrible as it may be to say, I wasn’t overly concerned with coke and x, as they are hard drugs, but it was something that a lot of other people I know did. I guess I thought he’d get bored with it, well did he ever get bored with it – that is when heroin and meth came into his life. These drugs are something that truly come out of the depths of hell and will rip anything that you love about a person right out of them. They become unrecognizable. For everything that we had been through with Josh and drinking – I found myself now saying, “I wish it was just drinking again”.

What was it like to watch him deteriorate or delve deeper in the addiction? What did his behavior consist of during this time?  

It is honestly like watching someone slowly kill themselves and that is exactly what he was doing and it was even harder to know he didn’t care. We lost several close friends in high school to suicide and Josh knew the pain that brought, so he promised he would never, although I know it crossed his mind several times. This was just as bad as losing someone though because I did lose my brother. Every time the phone would ring or my mom would send a message saying ‘call me right away’ my heart would sink. It was never ending – just waiting for the news to come that he was gone. He had completely changed – my big hearted brother was no longer. He didn’t care about us; he treated his druggie friends better than he did his own family. He was always combative and would fight with my parents. I told Josh I would never forgive him if something happened to them during one of their fights. He wouldn’t listen to any of us – there was so much anger in him. You couldn’t even talk to him anymore, he cared about drugs and that was it. I had no idea if I would ever see the Josh that I loved again.

Did you want to help him more or realized you needed to distance yourself when this happened?

I had tried for years to help him. I would always be there when he called; I would give him a place to stay, money, and food whatever he needed. It affected my relationships too. There were many times I was told ‘it’s your brother or me’, or, ‘this has to stop’. How do you stop it though when you love someone and you just want to help them? How do you live with the guilt if something were to happen? I was with him for years side by side having fun, drinking and partying, so now that you have an addiction and I don’t – I’m not going to help you? I ask myself over and over why this all happened to him. Why not me? Alcohol was a big part of my life but it didn’t take me on this downward spiral. Why did it happen to him? He could’ve been anything and done anything – he is so intelligent and loving.

I have so much guilt still to this day that I should’ve done more, I should’ve stopped it, or I shouldn’t have partied with him so much. It took me a long time to start saying “no” to him but I finally did. I had to cut him from my life. I knew when he would call and I started to say no it was going to be bad and it broke my heart! He would call and ask for money or buy him vodka and he would yell and say horrible things, which led to me crying every time I got off the phone with him. I lost my brother……..he was gone.

My parents and I started to fight over this too. They would always bail him out anytime he was in jail, they’d give him money, they let him live at their house without working – it was just years of drinking and doing drugs. He had no respect for my parents or their house. I can’t even tell you how many drug deals and users that he would bring over to my parents because they wouldn’t do anything about it. They were completely enabling him and his addiction. I know why they did it. I can’t imagine having your child out on the streets not knowing if he was going to live. But I kept telling them that by letting him stay there with no concerns of shelter or food they were now killing him. I know it is really harsh to say but my brother was dying in my parent’s basement in front of their eyes and they were allowing it.

What did his mindset consist of when he was using, what emotions did that trigger in you? 

His concept of reality was gone. Trying to talk to him was next to impossible. The things that a person would consider horrible were no big deal to him. He has two beautiful daughters and he thought he was being a great dad to them because he was “around”. He loves his girls more than anything but even that love couldn’t stop him from using and his mind was so warped that he thought he was giving them everything that they needed. When in all actuality, he was high all the time with them, yes, he was physically there but it wasn’t an environment for children to be raised. One of the last times I talked to him – my best friend from high school, who loves Josh like her own brother, was home . We ran into him while we were out and she was so happy to see him, even though he wasn’t the Josh that she loved. She asked him how he could live like this and he laughed and said “are you kidding me… – live like this!?!? I have never been happier in my life –  you two are the ones who are phoney and living a horrible life!” It went on and on and he finally left because the fighting just continued. That was a moment when I felt there is no way that the Josh I knew is ever coming back. How in the world could someone who was high on heroin at the time, have no place to call his own for him or his girls, not a dime in his pocket,  not have even the slightest clue where he was going to sleep for the night or ever give his kids the life they deserve – EVER say that he was happy?! His whole outlook on life was gone….he was gone.

Was it hard to see the potential in someone, and know what they could be – but unable to teach or show them their own self-worth?

I wish that Josh could have seen what everyone saw in him. Like I said, he was the one that most would have loved to be; loving, smart, funny, good looking and so caring. The thing about all of this is, is this is how we all perceived him from the outside. When in all actuality, he had extreme anxiety that started when he was very young, so this was his way of gaining self-confidence. I was with him every day, how did I not see this? From the outside, he seemed so confident, had tons of friends and millions of girls that were dying to go out with him! I wish that he would have told me when we were younger so he could’ve gotten the help that he needed so long ago.

What was it like as a spectator from the sidelines? Explain what the highs and lows looked like from the outside and the affect it had on you and your family.

It was emotionally draining not knowing where he was or if that next call was going to be the call that he was gone. I just wanted him to snap out of it and get his shit cleaned up. I don’t know how he lived like that for years and never will. I do know that it is a disease that consumes everything. It is deeper than any of us can even begin to comprehend. It takes everything that you love or care about and throws it away. To the point that your number one concern is where do I get the my next hit? It broke my heart to step away. I told my husband that my brother died, he will never come back. It is a death, a death to a relationship that should last forever. I didn’t have anyone, I felt as though I was an only child now. I would get so jealous and almost mad at my friends that had siblings that they could call just to talk, go shopping with, and have holidays together. It wasn’t fair!!

It was also hard to watch my parents. Like I said they did anything for him. But as things progressed, my Dad started to see that he had to let go too – which made things worse. Josh and him are close but have always seemed to have this underlying issue between them. I think my Dad was just so disappointed because he could see all the potential he had and instead, was throwing it away just as he had watched his own Dad do for years. Watching my Dad and Mom fight over Josh was never easy either. My Mom wouldn’t ever stand firm and the tension that brought to their marriage was almost too much. My parents love my brother more than anything – how do you turn your back on that?

If you had to compare him at his lowest to today – what are the differences? Who and what do you see when you look at him today?

There is no comparison to that person and who Josh is today. He is such a giving person and best Dad, I see how much love he has for his girls and it is almost too much it makes my heart hurt to see him love them so much. He has found faith and that is getting him through this journey. I know that it’ll always be an uphill battle but he has the support of his family and we will be with him every step of the way. He is working and realizes how rewarding that alone can be to, just to have the responsibility of a job and what comes with it. I truly can’t say enough about the man that he is today; every time I think of how far he has come I can’t help but cry. I can honestly say that I have never in my life been so proud of someone before. I talk about him all the time and I love it more than anything! Now when someone says, are you Josh’s sister, I gladly respond…….’YES I AM’!!

I don’t think of my brother as an “addict” – he is a survivor. It was a part of his life but it wont define who he is or who he chooses to become from this point forward. Josh is a brother, friend, father, son, and an all around wonderful person.

 What is your take on the Judicial System &/and resources offered to those struggling with addiction? 

Our society has a negative look on addicts, as though they aren’t as “worthy” as them – when in fact everyone deals with issues in their life. This just happens to be theirs, so why is the stigma that comes with this widely spread problem viewed as if it’s something that doesn’t deserve the same love and attention that we would give that of a cancer patient? I think the most frustrating part of these years – was the huge lack of long term help and resources. The traditional treatment programs do not work, for Josh anyways. We need to focus on mental and emotional health as much as staying clean. There was more then one point in my brothers life when he came to me and said ‘I am ready I need to go get help now’. For those of you that have dealt with this, know that when they say now it has to be now, because in an hour it could change! I would call millions of places and ask for help and I always got the same answer sorry we are full we have an opening in 3 months will that work!?! No it wont he needs help NOW!

As far as the Judicial system – once you are “labeled” in the courts eyes – there is no helping – they sentence you to jail or a half way house, (which by the way, are just places where you meet more connections!) Josh was first offered heroin when he was at a half way house in St. Cloud. My parents and I left there thinking okay this is it – it’s going to work and 2 weeks later he was gone. My parents got a call at 2 am from Josh, he had been living on the streets for a couple of days and had no where to go, so back they went hopes shattered – not knowing what was in store for them with the years to come!

It is so sad that we have chosen to dismiss the underlying issues that drive addiction, to think that a 30 day program is enough to dig beneath the many layers that have been created. Not only that, but following that short treatment, we put them back into the environment in which they came from – only setting them up for additional failure with even more contacts and no additional long term options.

A note from Josh’s mom, Vicki regarding the difference in who he was versus who he is today….

  He has totally turned his life around now and lives it how God wants him too. He feels like he is worth something, has a job now and loves being around his family and he is the best single dad I have ever seen! Our hearts are filled with joy now that we know he is safe and taking care of himself and his family!  Now, he talks about how alone he felt and scared all those years he was growing up drinking and doing drugs. He hated his life, even though he let on that he was so happy and didn’t have a care in the world, he now feels relief. He was so miserable he didn’t know what to do other than stay drunk and high, as this masked things from the surface. It seems incomparable to think of that person and the son we have back now! Today we have our son back in our lives full force and it is such a good feeling that he feels good about himself now and has found his place on earth with God.  We are so thankful!

*If you or someone you know is in need of help, here a general site/line to start with to better direct you of resources within your area  or  *

*If any of this resonates with you, or you know of someone it may help who is personally struggling or has family that is, please feel free to share on social media to bring forth awareness and hope, while breaking down stigma around this subject!*

Inside Looking Out – Joshua


“My Name is Joshua Kuhlmann. I am an alcoholic. I am a meth and heroine addict, but only when accompanied by alcohol.” This is how I would’ve identified myself the last time I walked into treatment. I was 39 years old, this was approximately my 9th round of treatment, 2nd round of inpatient. This time I knew it was the last time, I felt it deep within me, I was finally bowing out of this life I became to know and rely on.

For all the thoughts and words that come to mind when we hear words such as “recovering meth or heroine addict” – vulnerable, courageous and inspirational most likely aren’t on the top of many’s list. When actually, those are the words that are deserved for anyone who has succumbed to any type of an addiction, and especially the wrath of harsh substances such as these. To not be able to see your life beyond your next sip or hit, to have your mind so overtaken by something that literally owns and destroys you, as well as every facet of your body and life, is something many more know then society cares to recognize. This is not always what it may seem from the outside looking in, it’s far deeper then that. It’s a world of it’s own that only exists to those caught in it’s darkness – it’s mental illness in another realm – masked by and numbed by a substance. To hear someone’s countless stories of being at the bottom of this barrel for years on end, only to see them a year later, an entirely different and new being – watching them rebuild their life literally one minute, hour or day at a time  is quite amazing. To beat the mindset of knowing that at any minute they could go back to any of it with a simple phone call – is inspirational!

Thank you Josh, for not only sharing your story, but teaching and reminding me what the meaning of truly being one’s self looks like. To be forced to function in every single area of your life with total and complete surrender, vulnerability and sobriety is not a task many care to attempt. To be back in the work force, raising children, building and starting new relationships, a home and most importantly rebuilding yourself! Everyone “lives their life”, many never walking down the path of addiction, but few live their lives consciously, always looking to improve themselves, being open and adaptable to change and giving gratitude for the simplest of things the rest of us take for granted. And that is just a few of the great things we can learn from you and all those who have walked this with you. You have so much to be proud of and so much more to look forward too on this new and exciting, while also challenging-in-it’s-own-way journey.

Here is Josh’s story, which will be followed another entry from his sister, Jodell, who will give us a glimpse of what it was like to stand on the other side, from the outside looking in.

At what age did it begin and were there any underlying reason? What substance did you start with?

It began when I was in elementary school, when my dad passed me a beer to take a swig. There was this feeling of acceptance I got, being “one of the guys”. It was a rush, a relief, as if I was on top of the world, all my problems washed away in that one sip. It was the social norm for my parents to host card parties and sit around and drink, especially in a small town. This was the normal setting I was exposed too, so it didn’t seem foreign to me. From that point forward it slowly, but consistently grew – it planted a seed of acceptance that I didn’t realize would snowball into something far bigger.

Let me just give you a bit of a timeline of what this life looked like. I rang in my 13th birthday smoking weed for the first time, which then led to regular use. At 14 I got what was the first of many minor consumptions. Age 16, my senior year, brought with it my first round of outpatient treatment. Although the drinking didn’t slow, I wanted to be able to participate in football, and this was mandatory in order for me to do so.

I graduated at 17, this just gave me even more time during the day to indulge in partying, with that came regular use of cocaine. I had a great job, making good money removing asbestos from homes. At 19 I buy a house, drinking copious amounts of vodka, while feeling daily rushes of regular cocaine use. I can average 2-3 days before crashing. A majority of this great income is spent on sipping, chugging and snorting. One of what will be four DUI’s follows shortly after, along with 3 friends committing suicide. This scares me, but I’m still feeling as if I need these outlets in order to be “social” because my anxiety is so intense. Age 20, I lose my job because I’m not able to function and make it there regularly, but not a huge deal, besides, I’m making enough money dealing. I’m feeling really good about myself, people look up to me and respect me and it fills another void. The reality of my friends deaths start to settle a little too close to home, so I move to distance myself from this, with the hope of going to college and playing football to get my life back on track. This instead turns into more hook ups and even better money selling coke! It’s funny how you say you’ll “never” until you’re standing there doing that “never”. I swore I would never shoot up, but somehow find myself doing just that.  This is what my life from age 20-30 consisted of  – partying day and night, selling coke, having sex with multiple women – living the high life.

Roughly at the age of 30 I OD’d (for the 1st time) off percocet and oxy, followed by a 3 day coma. I wake up pissed, wanting out, and begging my mom for money to go get another liter. I fractured my spine from having alcohol withdrawal seizures. The realization of this injury from having seizures from withdrawals, is a bit of a scare. So, I decide another round of inpatient treatment is necessary. That followed a half way house, with 60 days of sobriety, only to get kicked out of 2 more half way houses. Another overdose – this time on heroine. I end up enrolling to college, which lands me a $5000 check to live off of and supply my needs. At one point I end up in the Anoka County Courthouse bathroom drinking rubbing alcohol to keep the shakes at bay, with nowhere to go and no clue what my next move will be. This leads me back to parents again. Although I’m working, I meet who becomes my long time girlfriend, who just happens to be a bartender. This works out well considering she supplies my booze stash. She enables me even more, always paying the bills, which allows me to carry on with my lifestyle while she works, in turn I’m caring for her daughter. This works out great, I’m home more at least, out less partying, but still feeding off the toxicity that has always resided between us.

When I’m 32 I’m in the beginning stages of liver failure, noticeably jaundice, with extreme pain. This leads to a week of sobriety after being hospitalized, but corrected itself, only to have repeated itself. This is a realization that the half gallon of vodka is no longer feasible, so I pick up meth, besides it’s a great diet regimen! 😉 After awhile I’m going through an 8 ball of meth at a time just to keep me going. 3-4 years of meth, followed by heroine for a change of pace. It’s like a version of a doctors prescription to alternate between Tylenol and Ibuprofen, except I’m alternating meth and heroine. I wasn’t biased towards one or the other – unlike others – I had friends on both sides of the track. For those few years, I never intentionally slept. I mean I slept, but I never thought “I should go to bed” or “it’s bedtime”. I crashed wherever, whenever, but it was only at that point that I got rest.

At this point I can’t see the light of day, nor do I have alot of motivation to do so, this is just simply my life day in and day out. I am a master manipulator using and abusing anything and anyone that gets me from one hit to the next. While it feels good to feel good, being admired by so many, what I don’t realize, is, I’m being manipulated, used and abused by all around me just as much. So, here I am, feeling on top of the world, only having occasional rising fears of being without my safety nets.

Addiction of choice and why – explain the highs and the crashes – what did it feel like physically, mentally and emotionally.

Alcohol was always a factor, it was the first thing I did each morning and the last thing I did each night. Within a few hours of waking I had the shakes, looking for my next swig of booze – preferably vodka. The drugs weren’t near as important to me as the vodka. Drug of choice would be ecstasy, but isn’t something I did alot of because it was tough to keep the high for extended periods. The booze was my coping mechanism, while the drugs made me feel 10 feet tall and bulletproof, adding to my confidence. As my roommate says heroine was “a warm blanket of amazingness”. You could be getting your head bashed in with a club and think everything was good! But when the vodka was dry – it was instant panic, I was legit scared to think of not having any. I never did the drugs without the booze, to do it sober was actually scary to me. Straight up, uncontrollable anxiety.

How do you think this affected those around you? At the time, did you think there was any ripple effect to your family? 

Nope, not at all. I thought I appeared to ‘have it all together’ and someone to be looked up too, and honestly, I was – in that world. Outside of ‘that world’, it was total denial when it was brought up to me, I didn’t think it was anything I couldn’t control.

Turning point in your life – the last straw – the one that started your journey to get to this point.

I think subconsciously, I knew when I was 32, when the realization that the onset of liver failure had begun. That scared me, but instead, I buried myself deeper.                                Fast forward to 2015, I have 2 warrants out for my arrest due to drug sales after being caught with a wire. After ins and out of what I hope would be a pass back out the door after lack of evidence, my lawyer informs me another county has additional sale charges on me. But, even then, I’m feeding myself lies to keep myself sane. This is the realization that my avenues of escape are looking thinner by the minute and I should probably start prepping myself for a long haul of sobriety, whether prison or long term treatment, I wasn’t getting out this time. I actually tinkered with the thought of taking the 120 months in prison over the option of mandated inpatient for a year.

The real, official turning point is when I’m sitting in the wreck room in jail – I come across the Holy Spirit Handbook. This changes everything. This is literally my “coming to Jesus moment” in a way I’ve never experienced before. There’s this feeling of total and complete peace, calmness and serenity that flows over and through me. And this time, I don’t have an ounce of any substance in me. For the first time in my life, I know I’m going to be OK, and I’m actually excited about being admitted to MN Adult and Teen Challenge. This is the start of a new life I didn’t know was possible, or perhaps wasn’t willing or ready to embrace all those years. It was better then any high I had ever experienced, it was the most peace and comfort I had felt my entire life.

What are some of the biggest challenges you’ve encountered since being sober? 

I would have to say keeping my anxiety in check, although nowhere near what it used to be, it still arises, especially in a social setting. Learning to be aware of it and trying to find coping mechanisms to offset it is a work in progress. Another thing that I’ve been trying harder to work on, is learning to focus attention back on myself, doing the inner work required to heal. It’s always been a mindset of blame, pointing the finger outside of me, that I’ve never taken responsibility for my actions. Now I’m trying to learn how to balance things, patience with my kids and family, but especially with myself. Learning how to co-parent while also setting boundaries, recognizing manipulation, being open to feedback without defaulting to blame and just establishing myself. To try and retrain my brain to remember things and be aware without going back into default mode. I started so young, I don’t know that I was ever able to establish myself and my own true identity. I guess that’s the beauty in rebuilding.

What do you think are the biggest problems that come with the stigmas of addiction? What are some missing factors you feel are being overlooked when addressing these issues and the judgement that comes with them, especially in younger kids?

The lack of understanding coming from all angles, especially at home. I told my dad once about my anxiety, (although I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time), the response was along the lines of “deal with it, don’t be a pussy”. But the older generations didn’t discuss their problems, so maybe he didn’t know any other way to respond without thinking something was wrong with me.

I was sitting in jail after my second DUI, flipping through a magazine when I came across a Paxil ad. As I was reading the side effects such as racing thoughts, shortness of breath, restlessness, irritability, or difficulty in public places – I came to the realization that this was me! I am that blue pill – more like I need that blue pill! To realize that other people had these same symptoms was amazing to me, because I thought it was just me! I was so excited about the fact that this pill could help me that I went up and asked the desk clerk to give me some, not realizing it wasn’t that easy.

Another thing people don’t realize, is this isn’t just one set of people or only people of a certain social status engage in substance abuse. I used with plenty of people that came from higher social statuses, kids of doctors and other respectable careers. The stigma that only people that come from crap households or poverty level use substances to cope, couldn’t be farther from the truth! And yet we were viewed as the “scum” or “losers”.

Sometimes I wonder if I had known or learned to cope better with my anxiety if I wouldn’t have went to other substances to rid myself of these feelings that in fact were normal to many. Sometimes I think my parents should have just left me sit in jail the first few times I was in, maybe it would’ve changed my mindset. Instead it just enabled and reinforced my behavior, knowing they’d come to my rescue when I got caught again. But, I guess it’s hard to say for sure, either way, this was how it unraveled for me.

Has it changed your path or purpose in life since? Do you feel you endured it for a reason and are meant to do something with it?

Absolutely. I’ve lived my life unknowingly being so selfish, only worrying about myself, but now I know it has nothing to do with me. I realize it was all fake and false before, even looking back – there were so many odd things that happened that lined up in my favor – that redirected me. My life resides in Christ, which in turn out flows into everyone around me. The fact that I’m alive is evidence in itself of what my life purpose is. No one endures what I did and almost dies that many times for nothing. It’s all part of a bigger plan.

There is no denying that overall substance abuse, especially in meth and heroine are on the rise – what do you think are significant contributing factors to this problem? 

Prescription pills are a big factor. Although this wasn’t a direct reflection in my case, I do hear of prescription pills being a sought out source, it seems common within the treatment world. They’re fairly easy to get a hold of.  As far as the rest, I don’t know if there’s a certain “go-to” I think it depends on preference or whatever is available.

What and who do you see yourself as now? How would you identify yourself? 

I am Joshua Kuhlmann, I am a child of God, saved by Jesus Christ. I know what the highest of highs feels like, along with the lowest of lows – simultaneously – from trying to catch a buzz in a courthouse bathroom to sitting in a jail cell reading the Lord’s word. I have done alot of shit, seen alot of shit – but I am truly grateful for every part of my journey. Because I know what it’s like to stand on that side, and I look forward to spending the remainder of my life standing on this side, helping others in their journey of recovery!

*If you or someone you know is in need of help, here a general site/line to start with to better direct you of resources within your area  *

*If any of this resonates with you, or you know of someone it may help who is personally struggling or has family that is, please feel free to share on social media to bring forth awareness and hope, while breaking down stigma around this subject!*

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt


Is there a such thing? To be proven guilty or innocent beyond a reasonable doubt? Who’s in reason and according to who’s doubt? What used to appear so black and white has become so smeared and gray, the lines crossed and manipulated – in all realms. When everyone’s reality is so malleable, everyone’s truth so different – is there room for black and white lines anymore? How do you leave aside all biased, being forced to tune it all out, how does one perception outdo another’s, what makes one more “wrong” or “right”? How can 10 people look at one painting, watch the same episode, endure the same experience, and yet all walk away with a different perception? What makes that perception? All the tiny stories and experiences that have brought us to this point in time – one story – different view points – different eyes that have seen different things, different interpretations, how we were raised, what we were taught, what we’ve experienced – they all mold us, they all create these little snap shots buried deep within us that have brought us to present day. It’s like the slides of a movie that keep rolling on the reel – put them all together and you have one movement after the next. Some slower scenes, some faster, some dramatic, some boring, some forever imprinted, some that cause our response mechanisms, some that force us to react. 2 things they all have in common – a majority are subconscious thoughts that we operate from without knowing and all have a different truth to them.

What is truth anyways? Truth according to the dictionary truth is “a fact or belief that is accepted as true.” Not the definition I expected to find – that makes for many different truths all in one if it’s simply something that is accepted as true – kind of a game changer isn’t it? I have accepted many truths that many others have not, and forcefully unaccepted many that I simply didn’t want! Haven’t we all blurred the lines? I’m not talking white lies or choosing to manipulate it on purpose in order for an opinion to be swayed in a way I want, I’m talking about doing it without even knowing I just did it. You listen to a speaker and there are certain things that just click immediately, but others you may question were ever said. Parts of your childhood you chose to block, only to be reminded of the agony in which it surfaced. It’s the logical mind taking what serves it best at this moment, for us – and running with it. I heard a very varied version of the Adam and Eve story recently that seems suiting – Adam and Eve never knew the fruit on the tree was “bad” or “forbidden” until they were told. Up until then they simply just were, they did, they flowed, there wasn’t a certain “way” or “belief” around anything, they ate from every tree because no one infringed upon them that one was more valuable then another. It wasn’t until they were told otherwise that this became their death sentence. If you were to view the same knife, one beheading someone and that same one cutting an apple – why would you fear one and go towards another? After all, they are the same knife? It wasn’t until you were told and taught that one was “right” or “wrong” that you began to think differently about it, knowing to run from the knife that beheads or toward the one that feeds you. To the Christian, the Bible speaks the highest truth, but that truth is in the eye of the beholder – whatever wants to be interpreted from it, will be. To the Muslim, the Koran is the highest truth – if you were taught that sacrificing yourself to end the lives of others that you have been told and taught are harmful, why are they doing “bad” when it’s all they know? They simply see it as serving their God, just as we are taught going to church is our service. I mean, after all, we teach our soldiers the same thing – to kill the “bad” guys, are we really that different then? Or is this along of the lines of “he started it first” – does that make one better then the other? Does one man in a suit lying make it less of a lie because of his uniform? Perhaps he has been told that with power comes blurring the lines, so I guess he wouldn’t be a liar then? Are we all lying or are we all being honest? To the female judge who was wronged in the past by men, how does one keep their biased aside when mediating a case of infidelity and divorce or sexual abuse? To a male judge who endured copious amounts of abuse in a drug induced environment, how does one play fair on the other end of the gavel? You’re bound to see through the eyes of empathy or of wrath. How is a person to hold no bias when that’s what bias is – whether we realize we’re doing it or not. Have you never been impartial? Have you never had a favorite? A favorite color, teacher, sports team, friend, lover, doctor, TV show? Why? Why are some things your favorite? Have you never disliked something, hated and despised it? A person, place or thing, a behavior, a common saying, a liar, a cheater? Why? Why do you hate some things? Do you know? Can you link it to something deeper – to that “one time at band camp” story? 😉 To the girl that’s being mean on the playground, in her defense, it’s the only way she gets a voice, because at home she’s drowned out. To the boy that can’t concentrate, he can’t stop thinking about what will happen again tonight when he gets home to his drunk parents. To the black man that you label as a low life living in the projects, dealing drugs on the side, while working at Wal-Mart part time, this is the most permanent home he’s ever had with a full roof over his head, giving his children more then he ever had, doing the only thing he knows how to. To the obese teenager that you think needs to go on a diet, his parents can’t afford anything except pop tarts and hot dogs, and that’s if he gets 2 meals a day. Do you see how the hues of gray can vary so vastly, how the truth molds and bends? Do you see how people end up in situations and circumstances, not always because they chose too, but instead because they simply didn’t know how to do any different? Do you see how their truth and yours can be different? Do you know that your truth today can be different from tomorrow, that you’re the creator of it?

We all do a great job at trying to play God, but very few work on trying to be him – myself included. Perhaps if we realized that the days of black and white are forever gone, or even just that your black may be someone else’s white, maybe we’d concern ourselves less with what “truth beyond a reasonable doubt” best suits our vantage point, only to realize that truth lies only in the eye of the beholder.

Santa Monica

Santa Monica Blog entry Nov 16.jpg

“Her mind’s made up
The girl is gone
And now I’m forced to see
I think I’m on my way
Oh, it hurts to live today
Oh and she says “Don’t you wish you were dead like me?”

And I remember the day when you left for Santa Monica
You left me to remain with all your excuses for everything
And I remember the time when you left for Santa Monica
And I remember the day you told me it’s over”

This was the last song I listened too exactly 9 years to the day with you. Although those lyrics mean something different since then, the feeling that arises when hearing them is still there. I had just put Gabby – 2 1/2 and sick at the time – to bed, waiting for Nathan to get home, you and I were chatting about wedding stuff. I had mentioned perhaps  meeting with Sarah to do wedding invites, I knew you wanted to do them, but she’s great at this stuff and thought maybe you could learn some things from her?! I remember feeling half guilty, half defensive by the look on your face that said “of course I wouldn’t do it good enough or the way you wanted”. It was that look, followed by a weak “sure”. I remember talking about all of these wedding things as you half ignored me, never looking at me – always facing the computer. I often wonder how you didn’t turn around and tell me to shut the fuck up – you didn’t care – because you weren’t going to there. I often wonder how you didn’t say many things to me – instead, always playing the part, keeping your mouth shut, trying to pretend to be happy for me – even though I knew you were pissed about the whole thing. Once I realized you were less then impressed with this choice of topic I said “oh Jos – you gotta listen to this song – you’re gonna love it – Santa Monica by Theory of a Deadman! I asked you what you thought and got a monotone “yeah – I like it.”

I’ve replayed in my head a million times us standing outside smoking – while freezing our asses off – we got laughing about I don’t  even know what. I vividly remember thinking – but never actually saying “you look so good, you’ve lost weight – you seem happy Jos!” Maybe I just wanted to enjoy that contagious laugh a little longer, so I didn’t say it – just like you didn’t say anything to me, so we carried on. When we came back in the house I told you I was sorry, you could finish what you needed too, but I needed to go to bed. I needed sleep – pffff – fuck – let’s be real – I always needed sleep! You acted bummed, with a brief hesitation – I took note of it, but was defensive and proceeded to bed. As I laid there – I remember feeling bad, but more so as if something seemed off – but too tired to bother inquiring. Instead, I heard you shut down the computer and walk across the kitchen floor for what would be the last time. I heard the door close and I fell asleep. And that was it. That was the last time I would see your face, the last time I would hear your laugh, the last time I would smoke a Marlboro with you, the last time I would have a discussion with you – it was the last of so many things that would taint me for so long.

For months and months afterwards, I would talk to you on my way into work as if you were in the passenger seat beside me. I would try and alter the reality of it – as crazy as that sounds – I just always felt like I needed those one-way conversations – that were far from conversations because I couldn’t quit crying long enough to actually finish a sentence. To this day whenever I feel you, I feel you on my right side – steady, solid, always quiet and always on my right.

At some point in all of our lives we have a massive shifting point, it shows up in many different ways, but it shakes us to the core. For those that don’t know what this feels like, you will in time, for it’s inevitable in the human experience. It isn’t a week long ordeal either – it’s a forever long ordeal. For as much as this blog has done for me, in regards to healing at a much more rapid rate on many levels – the replay of that night – the feelings that arise with that song – the longing to hear that laugh or see that smile will forever be imprinted when this week arises – year after year – despite the time in between.

How can something feel like yesterday and eternity all at once? There are times I feel as though I’ve lost the details as time has passed. There are parts of me that are thankful for that, for it doesn’t consume me like before – proving I’ve been able to let go and move forward, but there are also days – like today – when I wish I could remember every detail of your face, of your words, of your every breath. Here’s to 9 years – 9 down – plenty to go – but still looking forward to the day I see that face again.