From the March 2011 magazine.

Wreckage of the Past

Beautiful things happen when a newcomer gets honest on her one-year anniversary

I was 12 years old when my parents separated. I lived with my mom for a couple of years but asked to move in with my dad when I was about 14. By this time I was already drinking every chance I could. I hid it and pretended to be "good" around my dad, but when I went out with my friends I really let loose. I couldn’t control it. All I thought about was drinking. How, when, and how much booze could I get were thoughts that consumed me.

When I was 18, my dad met a woman (who he is now married to). This was the first woman he dated since he and my mom split up, and I was angry, confused, jealous. You name it, I felt it. But I hated feeling things. I didn’t know how to handle my emotions, so I drank more and more to numb myself. She saw through me though. I moved out, hating her so much for "taking my dad from me," and of course living on my own gave me carte blanche to drink as much as I wanted, no more having to hide it from anyone.

-- Carolyn A.

Welland, Ontario, Canada

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