South Philadelphia, 1994. Kimberly A. is shaking, rattling, and rolling in a one-story building, her nerves writhing in a detox she didn't know she needed. She spent her childhood as a "people pleaser," a girl with no self-esteem who lied about loving necklaces just to feel a flicker of worth. She describes herself as a "bottom feeder," a woman who used alcohol as a solution to a spiritual malady, eventually becoming a bartender who took the "walk of shame" home every morning at 8:00 AM.
She recounts the wreckage of her life—the "rapacious creditor" of alcohol that took tenfold everything it gave. After a devastating rejection from a musician left her in a fetal position on a condo floor, a voice told her to call her sister. She ripped that condo to shreds searching for spare change, scraping together exactly $12.10 for a bus ticket. After five years of "white knuckling" it on fear and fellowship, she finally moved from hopelessness to the practical action of a Higher Power.
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