There is a part of me—even after seventeen years of sobriety—that whispers ever-so-seductively every summer that it might be acceptable to start drinking again.
Upon entering recovery, it was suggested that I lean on other women for hope and guidance. I remember thinking that there was no way I could ever trust women. I thought hated women.
I become stressed quite often. I spin too many plates, juggle too many flaming sticks, and usually have too many irons in the fire. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I selfishly want… Read More