A Bend in Recovery Road
WHEN I CAME through the doors of AA, I had nothing, literally. My three children had been in foster homes and other places because of my inability to care for them. I don't remember fixing meals or buying clothes, and today I don't know how they raised themselves because I was a bar drinker and never home. I had a husband who was in and out of the hospital, and I visited him only because I wanted his workmen's comp checks so I could have money for gas and drinks. I had sold the house when he was in the hospital, and for a while six people lived in a matchbook, two-bedroom house that I...
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