Author Archives: Elyse Brouhard

Things I Do When I Should Be Doing Something Else

Sometimes when I am avoiding journaling my thoughts and feelings, I decide it sounds like a fun time to read through old journal entries rather than write new ones. I also do things like deep clean my bathroom or alphabetically catalog my bookshelves, you know, useful procrastination aids like that . . . It was […]

The Equation of Time

Last week I learned about sundials, about the curve of the earth and the limits of my mind to comprehend the invisible. I am in a season of reconsidering what is worth considering worthwhile: what is simply urgent rather than essential. I spent half a day mesmerized by how time passes so slowly and then […]

It’s Getting Harder Now

I have been reflecting lately on the process of recovery and sobriety, growth and change. In some ways, early sobriety was a lot harder than it is now, but in other ways it was easier. In the early days, there was a lot of day by day, minute by minute, wrestling with my addictive behavior […]

Dear Mom

To be entirely honest, I procrastinated getting you a Mother’s Day present. Or getting you a card. But I’m not really a fan of most Mother’s Day cards anyway. I actually had a conversation earlier today about the challenge of finding a good greeting card: so many cards are just full of cliches or hyperbolic […]

I Don’t Even Know Your Name

Your hands shaped the way I see myself, directed the dreams I dream at night, created the pictures I see in the shadows when I should be sleeping. I am furiously and frantically enraged, but I don’t know where to direct it: I don’t even know your name. I don’t know how to grieve that […]

Twenty-Four Hours

There is something unique to struggle that it can be at once a great bridge between people when solidarity is found in relating through similar hardships, but on the other extreme can make you feel terribly alone despite being surrounded and loved. There is such an individual nature to each of our particular sufferings, that […]

A Different Kind of Coming Out Story

I frequently wake up in the middle of the night terrified that someone is standing over me as I lie in bed. Or convinced that someone is lurking in my doorway. Or leering from the darkened closet. Most often I freeze in those moments, held by some long-ago rule that tells me if I do […]