Awakening

| This is the 486th story of Our Life Logs | I grew up in the 1980s in Pakistan. My parents married really young and had a total of 12 kids. Sadly, eight died in infancy, leaving them only four to raise—me and my three younger sisters. We lived in a very small house that could barely fit our family of six, but we managed. Our unity … Continue reading Awakening

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In the Blink of a Bloodshot Eye

| This is the 485th story of Our Life Logs | Addiction isn’t picky. Trust me. You can come from family dinners and a good education and still fall into dependence. I sure as hell did. I was born in 1962 in Coshocton, Ohio. By the time I was about 10, we moved down to Cincinnati where I had a happy life, two loving parents with good … Continue reading In the Blink of a Bloodshot Eye

Life Without Drugs

| This is the 478th story of Our Life Logs | 2013, Virginia Beach. “Dude, they’re coming over the fence right now, bro! You gotta come here, man!” I rolled my eyes. There he goes again—always so paranoid. “Slow Man, I already told you, nobody coming here to rob us, dude. I literally just moved these tools in here yesterday. If you’re gonna be trippin’ like this … Continue reading Life Without Drugs

There Is Life After Opioids

| This is the 426th story of Our Life Logs | I woke to the sound of a nearby train as it whooshed by. I groaned as I stretched my legs out on the compact, double seat of a CTA train I’d chosen for refuge the night before. It wasn’t comfy, but it beat Chicago’s cold and grimy streets. Pain shot through my limbs as I shifted, … Continue reading There Is Life After Opioids

The Street Artist

| This is the 386th story of Our Life Logs | I was born in Sighthill, Glasgow, in 1983. I grew up on a large council estate with high-rise flats as far as the eye could see. It was full of crime, poverty, and drug addicts. I remember playing in the park as a child and there would be needles scattered like leaves. Buildings were often graffitied … Continue reading The Street Artist

At the Finish Line

| This is the 375th story of Our Life Logs |1 | The Wound“Lives are spared, families heal, things get better.”That wasn’t how things began when I was born in 1966 in the US, that’s for sure. I mean things started out pretty normal I guess, but at the age of three, my mom committed suicide due to drugs and alcohol.  I was obviously too young to … Continue reading At the Finish Line