My Story

I was a privileged, jaded girl, raised by a narcissist mother, and an emotionally unavailable father. I knew I was an alcoholic by the time I was 12 years old. I was always aware that I was somehow different. I read sophisticated literature from a young age. My fertile mind and imagination gave rise to daydreams, and I was lost in a world of my own creation. I was hopelessly romantic and dreamy, obsessed with fairy tales and fantasies of princes in castles. Naturally, the crystal decanters and fancy bottles called to me when I discovered the sweet insanity of my mother’s liqueur collection in the bottom cabinet of our china hutch. One taste led to another and I had my first drunk on a mixture of Galliano, Frangelico, and Triple sec…and a massive hangover that followed. That did not deter me for long. Several years later, I drank myself to blackout on my graduation night from high school.