From the February 2013 magazine.

February 2013: Dawn at the Rehab

She was angry and wanted nothing to do with God—until one frozen 5 a.m. smoke break

Five years ago I walked through the doors of a rehab. I didn’t really go there for recovery; I just felt that if I told my boss I was in treatment for 30 days I would not get fired from my job. I was mad when I walked through those doors. I was a product of the ’60s: I had tried every drug there was, but alcohol turned out to be my drug of choice. I just loved to party; but the party had progressed from weekends and evenings to 5:00 a.m. in the morning. I was gagging down vodka mixed with my coffee before work. Every day I would say to myself that I was not going to drink the next day, and then I did. I knew I had a drinking problem.

I had raised two beautiful daughters, owned a home and had gone through life without ever getting a DUI. I knew I should quit drinking and wanted to quit, but it was too demoralizing for me to admit that I was an alcoholic—I just did not have much self control, I told myself.

-- Nancy S.

Sweet Home, Oregon

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