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Last night stretched on longer than I wanted it to. Acid reflux kept me up, staring at the ceiling while the clock did that slow, mocking crawl. Whiskey Kitty could not quite grasp why her human was not springing into action for playtime. In her mind, midnight is always a reasonable hour to chase imaginary enemies. In my body, it was very much not. I finally crawled out of bed around noon, feeling like I had been lightly toasted and then put back in the box. Mom and I headed to storage to pull some artwork for the January show....

You might be a little tired of the daily posts by now. I get it. At some point you might wonder, hasn’t he gotten over it yet? When is quitting quit? The honest answer is: not yet. And that’s exactly why I keep writing. It’s still a bit of a struggle, and being accountable to all of you actually works. Writing this down each day makes the decision real. It keeps me honest. It keeps me showing up. Quitting isn’t a single dramatic moment, it’s a long series of quiet decisions, most of them unglamorous, all of them necessary. There’s...

I didn’t wake up until four-thirty this evening. It wasn’t laziness or avoidance. I was up most of the night dealing with brutal acid reflux and vomiting, the kind that leaves you wrung out, dehydrated, and cranky at the universe. When I finally did wake up, the cravings hit hard. Not subtle cravings either. The loud, nagging kind that say, today is not your day. And honestly, today hasn’t been. I want to address a few things that have come up in comments on this blog, because clarity matters, especially when people mean well but don’t have the full picture....

With Christmas approaching, today felt like a pause button moment. A day to reflect, to feel grateful, and to keep things steady. Between making plans for my art and books and simply being present for my mom, the pace slowed in a good way. Calm had a seat at the table today. I’m deeply thankful that I’m no longer trapped in drug houses, surrounded by cigarettes and illicit substances like a bad rerun I couldn’t turn off. I know how fragile stability can be. I could end up back there at any moment. Because of that, I’ve been walking this...

This week came in heavy, the kind of days that press on the chest without asking permission. A small argument with Mom. Serious conversations with my brother about the future. A disagreement with my mental health worker over treatment. When it was just me and the cat, everything felt calm, balanced, almost nautical. Then the water got choppy and the boat started to rock. Mom could see it. She decided I needed space and took me to my favorite coffeehouse, my familiar harbor. But right there, standing like a bad punchline at the entrance, was a guy smoking a cigarette....