From the May 2018 magazine.

Clear head, grateful heart

A mother recalls the dark days of her drinking and shares gratitude for the program and the beautiful morning sky

It is still dark out as I come to.My eyes open a slit and I try to swallow. Fuzzy and sick to my stomach, I reach for the side of the bed and vomit, splashing the side of the bed and my pillow. I fall back onto the bed, too sick to sit up. I moan, turning on my side, and look at the person beside me. I have no idea who it is. My mind jumps into panic mode and I try and remember a name to put with the face. It’s no use.

Where am I? Where’s my car? My clothes? I feel so sick. I plead to a God I don’t believe in: Please, help me.

-- Jennifer O.

Sumner, Maine

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