Since November 2015, I have completely changed my life. I’m nearly 3.5 years sober, I made the leap from my career in advertising to write and teach, I live in my dream location (basically, as close to the ocean as I can get without actually living on a boat), and I’m publishing my first book this September. My life is by no means perfect, but it is mine. It makes sense. It feels like home.
Hope is at first, I think, childish. In the best way, of course. We have faith and hope because life is still so new. Our brains haven't been written over with ink so many times they are unclear. Every moment is fresh; there is still magic in the smallest things: a cookie, swimming, flowers, Christmas Eve.
The longer I'm around the more I realize we all have a little bit of everything in us. I am both dependent and independent, generous and selfish, discontent and full-up, spiteful and deeply forgiving. We're all made of the same bits. That doesn't mean we all express the same personalities, or that we all have the same strengths and weaknesses, or can deal with things in a similar fashion, or show up for our lives in similar ways.