A Tom Collins at fifteen years old, and suddenly the world felt warm and cuddly. Janice D. describes herself as an alcoholic of the hopeless variety, the kind who "stayed too long at the fair" and simply couldn't find her way home. Her wreckage wasn't found in jail cells or bad checks, but in a chemically engineered family life where her mother passed out on the floor from secondals and old-fashioneds. Janice lived in a loop: speed in the morning to kill the hangover, alcohol at five, and Valium at night to shut the brain off.
A book-thumping son of a gun, Janice warns that recovery isn't a suggestion—it's a set of directions. She recalls the delusion of moving to Denver to find health, only to find better bars. After a brush with death and a period of cocaine use, she found a Higher Power and a sponsor who forced her to read every word of the Big Book. For Janice, the only way out is absolute abstinence; there is no taking the edge off.
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