<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Ate Uggles on Walking in Sober Boots</title><link>https://soberboots.org/tags/ate-uggles/</link><description>Recent content in Ate Uggles on Walking in Sober Boots</description><image><title>Walking in Sober Boots</title><url>https://soberboots.org/soberboots/assets/uploads/2023/07/img_1290.jpg</url><link>https://soberboots.org/soberboots/assets/uploads/2023/07/img_1290.jpg</link></image><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 21 Dec 2020 08:00:00 -0500</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://soberboots.org/tags/ate-uggles/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Hiding in Plain Sight</title><link>https://soberboots.org/2020/12/21/hiding-in-plain-sight/</link><pubDate>Mon, 21 Dec 2020 08:00:00 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://soberboots.org/2020/12/21/hiding-in-plain-sight/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I’m stealthy. I’ve always been good at keeping secrets — hiding things. I hid my feelings of guilt and shame about my father’s suicide when I was a kid by telling people all about it as soon as I got comfortable with them. If I told them the story quickly, and without a lot of feelings, then they would think I was over it — that I’d made peace with it. I told people that it was something that had happened, matter of factly, like it was as insignificant as what I’d had for breakfast.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>