Ghosts of the Lake


The lake is spectacular this time of year. In the early morning, the cool air creates misty ghosts that rise from the water and wander in circles with every swirl of air. Sometimes they march right past the dock. Other times, they circle off in the distance.

I’ve never been able to capture them in a photo. They are as elusive as a smoke, burning off as soon as the sun rises above the tree line. But while they’re here, I love to watch them wander past like the souls who lived and breathed before me, now hurrying off to who knows where.

Notes from the Universe

Notes from the Universe are the personalized  daily email from Mike Dooley that I absolute love. They always seem to tie in to what I’ve been thinking about or what I need to hear.
And they’re free!
Here’s my note for today:
About those dreams you have each night, Shawna, that you don’t quite remember… 
Well, those are the ones in which you hold sway over the stars, possessing the keys to the entire Universe, and in which all the angels sing your name in praise. The very same ones in which you summon legions to do your bidding, create worlds to play your games, and unflinchingly orchestrate challenges that are so intense, you completely forget you’re even dreaming. 
And you’re having one right now. 
Now, repeat after me, “I will remember I’m dreaming, I’m perfectly safe and sound, and that rumble in the jungle… is just me.”
   The Universe

“Love yourself …” — Heather Locklear

TLC "Too Close To Home" ScreeningDoes addiction bring drama into your life? Just ask Heather Locklear. Things appear to be looking up for her, according to her recent quote on Instagram:

“Love yourself…enough to take the actions required for your happiness…enough to cut yourself loose from the drama-filled past…enough to set a high standard for relationships…enough to feed your mind and body in a healthy manner…enough to forgive yourself…enough to move on.”

Day 900!


Today, I have 900 continuous days of sobriety.

If you take out the word “continuous,” there’s no telling how many sober days I have. They just weren’t all that continuous.

It’s weird, but Day 900 doesn’t have much meaning for me. The struggle is over, thanks to the woman I used to be. Every day is easy now.

What matters to me more is the hundreds of Day One’s I have. Those beautiful, magical days when I would wake up groggy, throw out the rest of the wine, take out my day planner, and write in my best handwriting, Day One.

Surviving those days was excruciating. I know because I often wrote about the anguish of having to start over, again and again. My mind was so enmeshed in drinking that I couldn’t imagine going without my 5 o’clock anesthesia. I needed that drink, more than I needed food or water or air. At least that’s what I thought at the time. But still, on Day One, I faced the battle head on.

Other days, I was not so brave. As long as my head was still above water, and it looked like I had an OK life from the outside, I ignored the ticking time bomb buried inside every bottle of wine.

But that woman who dragged herself out of bed, shaky and unsure, with just a whisper of hope … she is my hero.

Imagine being completely overtaken by one of the most addictive substances there is — one that is legal and ingrained in the culture and available at every grocery store — and to still rise up, even after falling over and over again. That is such an act of blind faith that I’m in total awe of her.

After years of blaming and shaming her, I am so grateful for every day that she found the strength to hope for a better tomorrow.

That woman I used to be — the one who paved the way for me with her sweat and tears and love — that is who I’m proud of today.