Josh K. knew from an early age he was going to experiment with drugs and alcohol. When a Drug Abuse Resistance Education (D.A.R.E) officer came to his middle school to share about the dangers of drugs and alcohol, rather than hearing to avoid these substances, Josh instead heard what sounded
Dave L. can tell you where he was and what he was thinking the day he realized his son was an alcoholic. Luke, Dave’s oldest son, had been working for him at the time when he called out sick from work again. It wasn’t a huge red flag—not a stolen
“You’re breaking my heart.” They’re the only words Joe L.’s mother could say that day when her son called to ask for a favor. Maybe the details were different, but it was just another version of a story she’d heard before. There’s a check on the way but it hasn’t
How can I put into words something that can only be experienced? It takes my breath away to think of where I was two years ago. I seem to start reflecting on where I’ve been and where I’ve come as sobriety birthdays approach. And I’m not just talking about substance
Sunrise brings doom for every cocaine addict. My heart, still pulsing from lines of Columbia’s notorious export, sounded like a Scarface drum solo. I tore the plastic baggy apart, but I knew there was nothing left. I felt like I was in a free falling elevator. Frantically, I called and
I started sneaking drinks at a very early age. My parents kept a bottle of white wine in the downstairs refrigerator. Livingston Cellars provided my first feeling of ease and comfort, and I soon discovered a couple pulls brought a nice buzz. While other kids my age concerned themselves with
