March 2014: East of the Red River
An alcoholic discovers you can sink a lot lower than living under a bridge
Before I made it to AA I had one purpose: to get the next drink. I was scared to live and afraid to die. I would ask God at night to take me in my sleep, only to wake in the morning when the pain would start all over again, day in and day out. I had to drink; I had no way to stop it. I thought I was insane and just wanted life to end. I did not care whom I stepped on—or over—to get a drink. As a matter of fact, I crawled over a dead body to get my last one. I was 23 years old.
Medicine Hat, Alberta, Canada