One day, in the month of October 2013, I drank my last alcoholic beverage. I don’t remember the exact date. There wasn’t any hoopla, I didn’t make a conscious decision about it—I just quit.
For too many years, I was a co-dependent, willing participant in dysfunctional alcoholic relationships. Memories I wish didn’t exist disturb my sober mind, retribution for drunken activities participated in and ones witness to...
My drinking life was a lie, though some of it was really beautiful. She makes sure to remind you of the good times, too. She’s insidious that way, alcohol. My only regret is that I didn’t break up with her sooner. Eight years. Grateful.
Peace
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