Dawn at the Rehab

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.