When the Chickens Came Home to Roost… and Got Drunk

When I began going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, I was mentally, emotionally, spiritually and literally bankrupt. Before my first meeting, I sat in the parking lot awkwardly making deals with the God I believed in when making last ditch requests. I swore that if God showed me that there were people my age who did not drink alcohol, and were happy, then I would not kill myself that night. I said that if he could prove that I was not the only 22-year-old woman incapable of drinking like a classy lady, I would quit that very day.