My name is Lori Lynne Armstrong, and I never thought I would live this long, let alone become a writer. Addiction almost took me out. Mental illness and the despair it led to almost took me out. Chronic pain and an eating disorder played their part. Most of all, an overwhelming sense of shame kept me on the sidelines of life. Even though I went to graduate school in psychology and was a therapist-in-training, my clinical skills couldn’t save me. But I’m here, clean since 2011, living with my conditions as gracefully as possible, and writing.
It began with outreach essays, but over the years it’s morphed into a memoir and other projects. Poetry crept in and became addictive. More ideas got born as the excitement of finishing a book made me realize I could write others. My brain chemistry shenanigans make life and writing challenging at times, but that’s all right, because every word I write and will write is a bonus: a mark of living one more day. And that, for a person who came so close to suicide, is enough.