I don't know what I'm writing.

I was having one of those conversations this morning that starts somewhere completely random and ends up a whole trauma-dump, tear-fest and somehow still left me sitting there afterward thinking, well… fuck. I guess I learned a few things about myself.

"I need a warrior woman. You're a butterfly."

Yesterday I wrote about survival, and today I found myself sitting with it a little longer. Not because I suddenly found the answers I was looking for, but because the more I think about survival, the more I realize how much of my life has been shaped by it.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about my life, my journey, my survival.

It's funny how something completely insignificant can end up making me think about my life.

I've spent most of my life carrying things that weren't mine.

If I could tell someone one thing about my sobriety, it would be this: recovery isn't built in a single life-changing moment. It isn't built when you hit rock bottom, make a promise, walk into treatment, or announce to the world that you're done drinking.

I'm not the woman I used to be. And despite what some people seem to think, that's not a tragedy. It's growth.

I came to a realization recently, and it's one that made me a little uncomfortable because it forces me to be honest with myself.

I've been spending a lot of time on social media lately, which is probably my first mistake.

The longer I spend on social media, the more I find myself sitting back and wondering how our species has managed to survive this long.

Well... it's been a minute.

I've spent a long time trying to understand people who choose manipulation over accountability.

I’m not angry at the ending.