For twenty years I was lost to food and booze and bad love and drugs. I suffered. My family suffered. I had a relatively magical childhood, which added an extra layer of guilt to my pain and confusion. Glennon – why are you all jacked up when you have no excuse to be all jacked up?
My best guess is that I was born with an extra dose of sensitivity to life’s brutality and my own nakedness. I didn’t want to walk through life’s battlefield of rejection, friendship, and tender love naked. So when I was eight years old, I made up my own little world called addiction and I hid there for decades. I felt safe. No one could touch me.
On Mother’s Day 2002, unwed and addicted, I found myself holding a positive pregnancy test. I decided to become a mother and vowed to never again have another drink, cigarette, drug, unhealthy relationship, or food binge. I found myself marrying a man I’d known for ten sober nights.
Twelve years later, I’m still married to that man I barely knew, and I’m also the mother of three kids, two mutts, a geriatric guinea pig and the two most majestic banyan trees you’ve ever seen. I’m also a Sunday School teacher, an award-winning blogger, a New York Times bestselling author, speaker, and the founder and president of Together Rising – a non-profit that serves women who need help getting back on their feet. Underneath and on top of all that I’m a Recovering Everything. Every morning, I open my eyes and immediately understand that I am still that girl on the bathroom floor, holding that pregnancy test like a terrifying invitation, trying to decide whether to stay down on the cold floor or get up and walk.
Most days I decide to walk, because I was right when I was little. Life is brutal. But it’s also beautiful. Brutiful, I call it. Life’s brutal and beautiful are woven together so tightly that they can’t be separated. Reject the brutal, reject the beauty. So now I embrace both, and I live well and hard and real.
My job is to wake up every day, say yes to life’s invitation, and let millions of women watch me get up off the floor, walk, stumble, and get back up again.