Joyce P. traces a straight line from a violent Atlanta childhood to a Candy A. red Mustang wrapped around a bridge, then into a grueling thirty-day detox where she fought a nurse over a shot.
Swapping beer for Quaaludes and pot, she chased a “more-ism” that left her paranoid and naked in strange beds. Salvation arrived in a grungy detox hallway and a “DTs group” that became her first fellowship. Through P.
City trips, a husband who ran off to a Baptist church on their wedding day, and the slow grief of losing her parents and her friend Chip, she learned that recovery isn’t about controlling others or reading steps at them. It’s boundaries, confidentiality, and service—Mary Mac telling her to set the table, Judy P. teaching her to drop other people’s secrets.
Thirty-one years later, she wakes early, reads Emmet Fox and the Big Book, and sits on her porch. The ache of the alcoholic is gone, replaced by a fellowship that holds her.
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