All posts by Don Miller

About Don Miller

A lifetime Las Vegas resident and father of three grown children, Don spent 15 years as a licensed psychotherapist and speaker in private and hospital practices. Prior, he was part owner of an award-winning family advertising agency. Having fallen into addiction to crystal methamphetamine several years ago, losing everything to the drug, he has been clean since 9/4/11 and more sober about life with each passing day. The stories and content of this site are the accumulating epiphanies of his journey into sobriety, shared here to inspire others, especially those who remain embroiled in addictive battles of their own. LifeMeansSoMuch, the song title by Chris Rice (and you are highly encouraged to download it on ITunes or YouTube,) is the lyrical inspiration for the content of this site. Don is currently a life coach, author, speaker and Senior Programs Manager at a non-profit, HopeLink of Southern Nevada.

remembering Allison

She swore us to secrecy but while she’s now gone, she’s not to be forgotten for her many generous acts of service. Allison called me last December and said she wanted to share some kindness with a HopeLink client in great need. I shared one very sad case in particular and after we both cried a little on the phone, she was off and running. She shared her own Christmas Jar with this family under the cover of night, placing it on the doorstep, ringing their bell, then running off. The next day, our client phoned her case manager in tears saying someone had left her a $400 jar of coins on the porch, which coincidentally was the past due amount on the family’s power bill. Allison’s secret gesture that evening just before Christmas kept the power on for her family and started them all back to church once again with a renewed belief there is indeed a God who provides. Allison, you earned your angel wings well before you left this earth and your secret is now out, but those who knew you won’t be surprised at all. #whatagal

my not so favorite things

Spiders, clown faces,
And bridges collapsing.
Burglars who break in on me
While I’m napping.
Slivers and big dogs who
Foam at the mouth,
These fears turn all my anxieties south.

Zombies and barfing
Free falls from high places,
Tornadoes, lightning and
Tightly closed spaces,
Birds that attack and
All things that sting,
These are a few of my scariest things.

When there’s alley fights,
Entries with no lights,
When I’m home alone,
These are a few of my scariest things,
All fears of the great un-known.

IRS letters and CPS knocking
Nightmares I’m falling
And empty chairs rocking,
Faces in windows when I’m in the shower
I can think up most anything scary at this hour.

(reprise Chorus)

isn’t it funny

Whether naked or afraid
In the most desolate of places
In the loneliest of moments
Or darkest of spaces

Not a penny to your name
Nor coat on your back
Not a crumb in your stomach
Nor morsel to snack

Closest to death
And the end now in sight
On your last breath
And losing the fight

It matters not time
It matters not place
You can always find humor
And a smile on your face.

the king

So who cares Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday is Monday?
I didn’t send a card, but neither did everyone. We’re all too busy making plans for an extra long weekend we did nothing to earn to get out of town, party longer, harder or just get stuff done. Ask the younger crowd and most don’t even remember the guy. Fewer will actually celebrate the life of one who refused injustice, abhorred inequality and remains the outspoken icon from a world and a time when virtue and purpose were more important than life itself. He was a black man in a white world, making his battle even more unthinkable and a quick and easy target…which tragically it became.
Fortunately, our society has evolved. Injustice and inequality no longer being social issues, outspokenness is just the unnecessary rockings of a boat for those whose ignorance means another paid day off on the calendar or an extra night to drink away what remains of our deep social ills. Wishful thinking.
To actually remember the achievements of a dead black guy and the world today had he not stood up and spoke out might be buzzkill for the plans of most. I do hope some will wake up Monday morning with prayers, dreams and hopes for which they might willingly die, or at the very least, pause to send up a thank you for one who did.


There was a time when peoples’ politics defined much of who they were—morals, character, virtues, fund of knowledge, their understanding of complicated world events and their personal empathies. Their beliefs weren’t always agreeable but were at least well-defended by deep roots and informed convictions.
Disagreements were conversation points revealing sharp differences yet with respect for the other person and a craving for depth and understanding of their opposing view.
Discussions were exited without driving wedges or assaults on character. They were deliberate, genuine attempts at bridge building though neither one might admit it in the moment.
To understand another’s fundamental politics was a desire to understand the entirety of the person. Conversations weren’t punctuated by sound bytes, innuendo or irrelevant periphery. They weren’t permitted hiatus on vague or shallow arguments and were always less about the party and more about the mind and heart of the person.
The end game was to evolve new ideas and solutions for all rather than digression into single issues of personal preference with feet dug in.
They embraced ‘what-ifs’ not as threats but as the creative bridges they were and ‘why-nots’ as opportunities to lay new stones for a unifying path, not for casting at one another across their divide. Indeed, they were dialogues of dream-builders engaged in the pursuit of a better life, a better world and prosperous opportunity for the all versus the one.
It was a hot day in August 56 years ago when a man spoke “I have a dream” and unified a sharply divided nation of a lesson that had yet to learn. That dream can still come true in this polarized world if people want it bad enough. Meaningful change waits for those who firmly grasp the fact that under the veneer, what we all want has more in common than not, and in many ways, is much the same thing.


Whether strokes on a canvas
Or words paragraphed,
A scurrying white cursor
Or notes on a staff.
Some paint life in colors
Some write it in ink
In every medium
They create what they think.
Art is their freedom
The songs in their skies
Their creations immortal,
Art never dies.

my little mommy

I spent 10 days with my daughter over the holidays and left for home a very proud dad and grandpa. I wrote this on the plane…

She hears every breath
And smells every smell
Sees front and behind
Months ahead just as well.
A Jill of all trades
A mistress of none
Not a moment she fades
Not even just one.
Her life is a calendar
Planned down to the minute
With dates for all others
But herself not in it.
Earns nothing in wages
But paid daily in love
Working harder and faster
Than we’re aware of.
Laundry playtime and dishes
And all tasks in between
She meets everyone’s wishes
While hers go unseen.
She’s a mother and wife now
First my little girl
Making good on her vow
She’s everyone’s pearl.

into a new decade

Our home is now spotless
The clutter is gone
Cupboards in order
The laundry is done.

Mortgage is paid
Budget prepared
Bills are all current
With a little to spare.

Goals are in sight
With changes to make
More this, less that
More give and less take.

Just hours to spare
Before the big hap
We enter prepared
And this year’s a wrap!

Don and Butch have left the building.