Pennsylvania, childhood: a kitchen floor, a big spoon, and a jar of potent horseradish. Bob D. learned early that being told he couldn't have something meant he had to have it, even if it left him spewing and sick. He describes himself as a "freeze-dried alcoholic," born with an inside emptiness that only alcohol could treat. For Bob, a few drinks of 151 rum were the only way to "come out and play" and escape the bondage of self.
He details the "phenomenon of craving" through a gritty memory of raiding a bathroom cabinet for cough medicine during a dinner party just to survive the night. After years of homelessness and a brush with a two-year prison sentence, Bob admits he viewed the 12 Steps as a "grimy check" written by a bum—something he tore up because his own opinion told him he was too far gone. It wasn't until he reached the jumping-off place, unable to live with or without the bottle, that he surrendered to a Higher Power.
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