“I was six years old the first time it happened. He asked if I wanted to play a game called ‘Truth or Dare.’ By the time I was in middle school, I understood drinking. Suddenly, nothing seemed awful anymore.”
- Love What Matters
- Grief
“I was six years old the first time it happened. He asked if I wanted to play a game called ‘Truth or Dare.’ By the time I was in middle school, I understood drinking. Suddenly, nothing seemed awful anymore.”
“We’re all struggling with something. Even if I’m able to help one person, I want to be able to do that.”
“I started the guessing game: Benzos? No. Acid? No. Mushrooms? No. Bath salts? No. I remember pausing and feeling a chill go through me. Heroin? Yes. ‘Daniel, are you telling me that Jeremy is using heroin?’ Yes.”
“I could not be more proud to hear him call me dad.”
Li sketched out a map of his home village. He couldn’t remember his birth name, the names of his parents, or the name of his village, but he recalled the rivers, rice paddies, and roads that wound through the countryside.
“I texted my mom. ‘We can have the kids,’ she replied. It was time to finally let go of my past experiences with love and open myself up again.”
“Three hours later, our doorbell rang. ‘It’s the cops!’ I heard them ask if we owned a 2017 Jeep. I was immobilized, tears stinging, unable to speak.”
“I never realized that a mother is not interchangeable; you cannot just change a known mother with an unknown one.”
“Your quiet presence may be all she needs to make it through.”
“In April of 2014, my son arrived. He became my WHY. My purpose and reason for committing to being healthy. I knew this time was different. It wasn’t like all of the other times because this reason was greater than life. It was life.”