My friends in high school knew I was a drunk. In my senior year, they even voted me as the one most likely to end up living on a park bench. I laughed all that off, just as I’d laughed off my nickname—“Pinball.” I earned it because I often staggered down the school hallways, literally bouncing off the walls. Inside though, I felt shame and embarrassment. I didn’t want to be known as a drunk any more than I wanted to be a drunk.