1982, Palm Springs. Eve M. stands before the crowd, not as a Baptist preacher, but as a recovered alcoholic. She remembers being a "misfit" from birth, a girl of elbows and knees who felt separate and apart from the world. For Eve, alcohol was the "magic elixir" that finally made her feel whole, shrinking her from a clumsy giant to someone adorable and capable of conversation. She chased the high of being a star, desperate for a name in lights so she could believe she was wonderful.
The wreckage mounted: a theater career ended by drinking on stage, a marriage fueled by mutual illness, and the degradation of being "too sick" to take her children to the park. She describes the "last mile"—the long, dark hallway of the 24th Street Club in New York—that led her from the shadows into the light of a Higher Power. Now, 37 years sober, she views recovery as a daily reprieve, a hard-won shift from blaming others to owning her own wreckage.
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