



The other day my daughter went into the kitchen. She turned on the light. She pulled open the door to the refrigerator. She scanned the food that was present and selected yogurt. She went to the drawer, got a spoon, and sat down. She opened the yogurt by herself and started to eat alone in the kitchen.This event may not be significant to the rest of the world. To me, it was both exhilarating and scary at the same time. My child did not need me. She didn't call for me to help her. She didn't need me to prepare anything for her. She had some form of independence. Suddenly, I shrank into the couch. I was not needed by my little girl. What does this new chapter mean for me?I saw myself in her. What choices lead to my decision to use drugs for the first time. She is six years old. Am I a good model for her? By the time I was five, I was playing truth or dare underneath the picnic table with my neighbor. By the time I was seven, I had gotten high on weed. What can I do to protect my child from these things.When she turns thirteen, will she ask me how I used to stick needles in my arms? What it mean for my kids to know that I was a junkie hooker wearing clothes I found on the street and eating leftover food on the top of dumpsters. What will it mean for my kids to know that I literally spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on drugs while I caused enormous suffering to everyone around me. I am not sure what I will say but I want to start the conversation. I would rather tell them myself.Guilt is a useless emotion. It keeps us stuck in our sickness. It tells us "why bother?" Why should I change when it will not matter. I chose to avoid guilt when I think of my past. I did the things I did in the past. I don't do those things anymore. I am okay with myself and the choices I made in life because I have no choice but to accept them to not repeat them. I may not be perfect but I am okay just being me. "And all of you should be okay being you..."