Making Peace with the Holidays

It was 1984 and Christmas was approaching. I hadn’t had a visit nor heard from a single friend or relative since I had moved into this recovery house more than three months earlier. No one called to say they missed me or wished I was there. I experienced moments of self-pity, but would not allow myself too much time in that debilitating darkness. I chose to live with the truth that I was the person who left a trail of damage behind me. Loneliness and shame hung heavy on my shoulders that December.