Diary of an Alcoholic

I began drinking in my twenties, and in my twenties, it was fun; in my thirties, my blackouts started; and by my forties, it was terrible. I never once thought I was an alcoholic. In Pasadena, California, I was picked up many times for walking dangerously. I had the same judge every time except the last one, and he asked me if I had been locked up before this. Since I knew nothing of a "rap sheet," I said, "Maybe once or twice." He said, "Wrong, and I think you have a drinking problem." I wanted to tell him that if my lover wouldn't beat me and my kids would behave and my job were less stressful--but as I said these things, I knew he just didn't understand, and he scared me when he hit the gavel.