Father Wound

That Day I Cussed God Out….and He Healed My Father Wound.

My father wound ran so deep in my heart and soul it was part of my identity for decades. It was a wound that couldn’t be cured by running away. It couldn’t be cured by sleeping around for men’s attention. It couldn’t be cured by drugs or alcohol. It couldn’t be cured through co-dependence. It couldn’t be cured through isolation and depression. It couldn’t be cured by obsessive striving for success. It couldn’t be cured by becoming a control freak. It couldn’t be cured through anger and anxiety. It couldn’t even be cured through therapy and medication (though they were helpful). No. What it took was a relationship with my heavenly father to cure the broken relationship I never had with my earthly father.

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The Life List 

Without further ado, I present to you my life story in a list. The "life list" is easy to read, yet powerful. It is minimal but effective. There are therapeutic rewards to reviewing your obstacles and how you overcame them. Check it out and consider sharing yours....you never know who it might inspire, touch, or encourage. Tell me one thing I survived that you want to know more about. I'll write my next blog on it. 

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Choosing Love: When Relationships Fail

When you marry someone, you choose to love them. At some point you are faced to choose to love that person again.  We will ultimately disappoint each other, we will hurt one another.  It is inevitable. We are but mortal, human, sinners after all. Here is the story of nothing, not even a war zone, can stop God’s plan for my marriage. 

Father Wound, Grief

That moment I became Wendy from Peter Pan…Grief does magical things when triggered.

Everything was great. Life is great. I’m living the dream. I’m sober, and I have an amazing job, and I’m pursuing my MA in Addictions Counseling. My marriage is awesome, and my kids blow my mind every single day with their growth and perspectives on life. Yet, here I was, sitting in the driveway of my gorgeous two story suburban dream home, in a vehicle worth more than my annual income, crying my eyes out to a song about Peter Pan.