The second eloquent and dead-on addiction piece I have read in the last few day's under the indefatigable Sari's auspices. As good an evocation of the addict's spiral into self-delusion as I know, and a stark reminder of what it was like. So grateful for that reminder of how blessed I am to have been in long-term recovery. I wish you only the very best.
What a beautiful, heartwrenching essay. Thank you for helping me feel less alone in a family that has been on a strikingly parallel journey. Not that long ago I decided to quit bargaining in my own little corner. (Not an easy decision; I am a rather excellent negotiator.) Because what if the wreckage, the generational trauma, the family addiction to addiction, could stop with me.
Wow Frances. Such a powerful and incredibly written piece. For the few minutes it took to read I was transported to a different place and mindset. Thank you!
WOW! I am in awe at your ability to tell this deeply emotional and beautifully rendered story. You did an amazing job of inviting us into our adjacent stories with our emotional experiences, just a tender invitation. I am flabbergasted! BRAVO.
Everyone but me is already in their 70s. Or dead. All the sisters and cousins, I mean. Worries about addiction are long dead. The worry is now dementia. Turns out, it was a thing for our parents. It's a bigger thing for the cousins and sisters in their 70s, especially if they have hearing loss. I'm at t-minus two years and counting, until setenta, and I can't hear myself fart with my eight-year-old hearing aids. And yet, 1% of me wants to gear up and give Substack a crack, after I get my third book of Memories on Amazon next month. But, fuck, really? REALLY? Powerful story, Frances. Blessings from NZ. Kia kaha. Stay strong.
The second eloquent and dead-on addiction piece I have read in the last few day's under the indefatigable Sari's auspices. As good an evocation of the addict's spiral into self-delusion as I know, and a stark reminder of what it was like. So grateful for that reminder of how blessed I am to have been in long-term recovery. I wish you only the very best.
Reading your essay now, Syd!
What a beautiful, heartwrenching essay. Thank you for helping me feel less alone in a family that has been on a strikingly parallel journey. Not that long ago I decided to quit bargaining in my own little corner. (Not an easy decision; I am a rather excellent negotiator.) Because what if the wreckage, the generational trauma, the family addiction to addiction, could stop with me.
As a sister with two brothers who have fallen down the deep well of addiction, one to never return, thank you for writing this beautiful piece.
Just gorgeous. Jeez
An amazing piece of writing Frances, totally compelling from the first paragraph. x
This is absolutely stunning!
A gorgeous essay that I really related to. Thank you for writing it.
What an amazing essay. Thanks for sharing this, Frances, your sentences so graceful as you recount these tragedies and the pain.
A punch in the gut and an ache in the heart for anyone who has been there. This was brutal and beautiful.
As the child of 2 alcoholics, I always assumed family addiction and acted cautiously.
Wow Frances. Such a powerful and incredibly written piece. For the few minutes it took to read I was transported to a different place and mindset. Thank you!
WOW! I am in awe at your ability to tell this deeply emotional and beautifully rendered story. You did an amazing job of inviting us into our adjacent stories with our emotional experiences, just a tender invitation. I am flabbergasted! BRAVO.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful and heartbreaking essay, @Frances Dodds.
Everyone but me is already in their 70s. Or dead. All the sisters and cousins, I mean. Worries about addiction are long dead. The worry is now dementia. Turns out, it was a thing for our parents. It's a bigger thing for the cousins and sisters in their 70s, especially if they have hearing loss. I'm at t-minus two years and counting, until setenta, and I can't hear myself fart with my eight-year-old hearing aids. And yet, 1% of me wants to gear up and give Substack a crack, after I get my third book of Memories on Amazon next month. But, fuck, really? REALLY? Powerful story, Frances. Blessings from NZ. Kia kaha. Stay strong.
So beautiful, the weave of emotions, the bond of siblings. The challenges we can see in ourselves and our ties of kinship. Thank you
So powerful. So heartbreaking. So familiar.