Magazine

January 2011: Puppet of Destruction

A promising young woman drinks herself past the point of no return

There I was walking off into the unknown of an Alaskan sub-artic night.

Sixty days into my sobriety, around 10 p.m., during a cold 20-below-zero dark night in 2009, my old self-will deceived me into leaving a treatment facility in Wasilla, Alaska. Located on a ranch, the facility was, at that time in my life, the only hope and salvation from a lifetime of substance abuse. After intense objections from staff counselors, clients, my biological son and my AA sponsor, I remained stubborn and determined to prove everything was under control when realistically my way of thinking was way out of control.

So, there I was walking off into the unknown of an... Login to read more
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