Undated Journal Entry #4
“Haven had a birthday party at a friend’s house. I dropped her off and had three hours that I needed to fill while in town. I spent too much money (of course), but after I came down from my mindless shopping, I decided to visit the botanical gardens and read. The landscape is breathtaking, and the entire place is pure magic. I chose not to bring my phone with me, not even to take pictures. I wanted to be in the moment . . .”
“Haven had a birthday party at a friend’s house. I dropped her off and had three hours that I needed to fill while in town. I spent too much money (of course), but after I came down from my mindless shopping, I decided to visit the botanical gardens and read. The landscape is breathtaking, and the entire place is pure magic. I chose not to bring my phone with me, not even to take pictures. I wanted to be in the moment, and I wanted to connect.
I’ve been to the gardens many times, before Haven was even born, but today the beauty struck me in a different way. It was as if I was seeing the gardens for the first time. The trees were taller; the flowers were brighter; the smells were stronger; and the water was moving more rapidly with a loud crash on each rock as it ran down the hill into the koi pond.
I finally saw what I had never noticed before.”
-RHH
Undated Journal Entry #3
“I want to drink, but there is also a part of me who doesn’t. That’s the part with my feet glued to the bed and my pen gripped tightly in my hand as if it were the railings along a long, tall, shaky bridge, and I know that at any moment it is possible to plunge to my death or to keep a tight grasp and hang on a little longer. I’m torn, sad, confused, alone, and sick. I don’t know what I will do or if this cycle will ever stop. . .”
“I decided today that I would stop drinking after Haven’s concert. This isn’t the first time that I have planned to quit after a significant event. I was fine yesterday, but I mentioned it once to M, and he completely shut down. The craving died as I pulled my sore body up the stairs and into my bed.
I felt terrible when I woke up, and I cried about having to work. My job is intellectually challenging and gets very busy, but today was a normal day. I work from home. I had one meeting to attend. With the pain and discomfort, even this felt like too much. My mind told me to drink alcohol or risk damaging my job and my reputation to take time off to go somewhere to heal. These are the only options. M tried so hard to help, but he just couldn't understand. He is so nice to me and so supportive. It’s not his fault.
Of course I chose to drink - to destroy my health and spend money I don’t have. The strange thing is, after I ordered my drink, I completely forgot about it. It arrived a few sentences into this journal entry, and it is sitting in the refrigerator now. I could be drinking it now. I can almost taste the bitter, awful flavor that I’ve grown so accustomed to.
I want to drink, but there is also a part of me who doesn’t. That’s the part with my feet glued to the bed and my pen gripped tightly in my hand as if it were the railings along a long, tall, shaky bridge, and I know that at any moment it is possible to plunge to my death or to keep a tight grasp and hang on a little longer. I’m torn, sad, confused, alone, and sick. I don’t know what I will do or if this cycle will ever stop. I’m trying to know and do the right things, but I always mess everything up. I am all that I hate in this world.”
-RHH
Undated Journal Entry #2
"Yesterday was difficult. I've been having so many positive days lately; it is almost as if this makes it harder to accept when things don't go exactly the way that I want them to. I need to realize that even if I'm not doing anything wrong, it is still possible to have a bad day. Why am I so intrinsically tied to this idea. . .”
“Yesterday was difficult. I've been having so many positive days lately; it is almost as if this makes it harder to accept when things don't go exactly the way that I want them to. I need to realize that even if I'm not doing anything wrong, it is still possible to have a bad day.
Why am I so intrinsically tied to this idea that what I do determines whether things are good or bad in my life? There may be some correlation here, and I am a firm believer in karma, but I don't think it's healthy to try to find responsibility in things that are just a part of life and likely have nothing to do with me.
Today is a new day - trial and error.”
-RHH
Undated Journal Entry #1
“I am only thirty-one, but I feel that I have lived many lives. I have many stories that I could tell - enough to fill the bookshelves of this haven hotel. I do not know what this story will be about. I hope that it will be one of recovery, justice, and peace. I know it will not be linear. . .”
“I am only thirty-one, but I feel that I have lived many lives. I have many stories that I could tell - enough to fill the bookshelves of this haven hotel. I do not know what this story will be about. I hope that it will be one of recovery, justice, and peace. I know it will not be linear. I have suffered a terrible trauma and nothing that I have written until this point matters. I am not the same person. This is a new life, and this story has not yet been told.
Today was a pretty normal day. It is two in the afternoon, and I have only cried once. I think it happened around nine in the morning. This is the longest I’ve made it since the incident without breaking down. M and I bought coffees and went book shopping. It felt nice to be out doing something fun together, and I bought this journal as a beginning, another chapter in my life, post-trauma, and to find my new path.
I will write in this journal to heal and to document one person’s journey to recovery with the hope that I can someday help someone else.
You are not alone.”
-RHH