I went to a free concert at Meijer Gardens on the 4th of July with Cindy. She seems to be witnessing a few of my sober “firsts”. This time, it was at an outdoor, camp-chair, picnic basket kind of concert. I haven’t been to one of those sober before. In fact, an outdoor concert (once I recced the toilets) was always an opportunity for drunken disorderliness on my part. Where better to get pie-eyed, than a pot-holed, minefield of folding chairs, wrinkled blankets and loose detritus?

Concert Going Drunk…

In the past, I would have had a glass of wine or four as I packed the cheese and crackers. I’d happily pour the better part of a bottle of wine into a thermos “roadie” and find a clever way to hide more wine on my person. Once we got settled, I’d locate the open bar and buy three, bad wines at a time – spilling booze as I teetered over the lawn with three Dixie-cups smashed together.

I can remember the slightly desperate feeling of having to go to the bathroom (all that liquid), but feeling unsteady. How was I going to pull myself up out of the folding chair two inches from the ground? Eyeing a path through the blankets and Yetis and hoping I wouldn’t lose my tenuous balance – land on someone’s bucket o’ chicken. Or turn an ankle.

I’d leave the food untouched, flinch at the first sip of concert wine like I was taking medicine. And then it wouldn’t taste so bad. I’d get sleepy, grumpy and bored. Sounds like three of Snow White’s most unpleasant dwarfs, right? And at some point I’d hate the band or my hair or the person I was with. I’d pick a fight.

That was me, summer concert drunk…

Concert Going Sober…

So, on the 4th I entered the bandstand area, minding my own sober business, carrying our snacks in a big, blue insolated bag. And a very nice man wearing an apron and a sun hat said, “Would you like some drink coupons?”

I said, “No thanks.”

He said, “Are you sure? There’s wine and beer!”

I said, “No thank you.” I even smiled sweetly. Ask Cindy.

We walked past him and he tried again, like he was on commission, not a volunteer, “It’s delicious wine and beer and these are discount tickets!”

I said loudly over my shoulder, “I’m an alcoholic!”

He looked so crestfallen, I kind of felt badly for him. But then I thought of all the people who were new to recovery and struggling a bit, going to their first sober concert and this kindly idiot was forcing drink tickets on them. So I said to Cindy, “I wonder if I said enough? Should I have told him to take ‘no’ for an answer and to stop selling so hard?”

Cindy said, “I think you said enough… I think he got it.”

My first sober, outdoor concert was fantastic.

Free, so it wasn’t flawless, but I enjoyed every bit. I was able to make my way to the bathroom, teetering on a tiered step like a Flying Wallenda, awake and cheerful and grateful.

I got home and, coincidentally, a newly sober friend of mine wrote to say she was going to a concert and finding the prospect difficult. So difficult, she didn’t even think she wanted to go…  Concerts, particularly outdoor concerts, are triggers for everybody. And it’s a shame. I told her that she was in charge of the situation – to go and enjoy herself. I said, “At least you don’t have to worry about your balance on the way to the porta-potty. At least you’ll remember what you hear.”

See how this peer recovery support works?

She said she went to an Elton John concert sober once. And the first song he sang was, “The bitch is back – stone cold sober as a matter of fact.” She says she laughed out loud… And that’s it in a nutshell – feeling alive and unfettered and happy at an outdoor summer concert. Really hearing the music. Laughing out loud…

The post Summer Concert Going – Drunk Vs. Sober first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

A few years ago, I co-owned a contemporary art gallery called Spiller Vincenty in Jacksonville, Florida. I had all the trappings of success. Although the most “Vincenty” and I got out of the venture was some great art, an opening outfit or two and several exciting “art buying” trips to Moscow, Santa Fe and London.  There was not a lot of profit in it. When I look back on Spiller Vincenty now, I was drunk, tipsy or on my way to one or the other during most of my tenure as a gallerist.

Good business for a HFA

Actually, the gallery business is a good hiding place for an alcoholic. We were located downtown, in 10,000 square feet of minimal chic, with an office at the back. We were not busy and when I worked alone, I could get quietly drunk on the left-over wine from the most recent art opening. Speaking of which, openings are an easy opportunity to keep a bottomless glass of wine going from the open bar. The only time I caused some sort of scene at an opening, was always.

But there were performance artists writhing about, nonjudgmental artsy types and all the patrons came to drink. Even when I picked on some unsuspecting victim, being a mean drunk, no one called me on it. (Although I do remember a friend saying, “My God Marilyn, pick on someone your own size. It’s like Godzilla going after Bambi…”) I was the owner of the gallery and I was influential in Jacksonville’s burgeoning art scene.

The definition of HFA…

And I was the definition of the “highly functioning alcoholic“. I looked great; I was articulate; had a successful business; and sat on the boards of director of several important organizations in Jacksonville. I was married and my children were well fed and in school on time.

But (here comes the “but” again), with benefit of hindsight, I know I was not highly functioning at all. I drove drunk all the time. I was hung over every morning. Queasy all day long. I survived on pretzels, hard candy and Diet Coke. And wine.  There were ghastly, emotional blow-ups. Kim will read this and remind me I didn’t even show up for two days, while she and the staff were setting up for our “Gala Spiller Vincenty Gallery Opening” – an event attended by the mayor and all the local press. With a series of enormous works that had to be hung using heavy equipment and 30 foot ladders.

I was holed up in the hotel across the street ordering room service wine and cheese platters…

And when I wasn’t drinking I was thinking of drinking. Or, if I knew I had to go to an event at the children’s school I’d get my drinking in early and “sober up” before my commitment. I was regularly stopped by the police for “driving erratically.” My guess is that everyone knew I had a drinking problem. But they were too scared of my reaction to say anything. And it is only due to luck, fast talking and a remarkable ability to walk a straight line drunk that I did not get a DUI.

No such thing dawg…

Which is why I’m not buying the handle “highly functioning alcoholic.” It’s a myth – like bad Santa. I’m not even buying the “alcohol moderation management” claptrap. If you are drinking too much I think you should stop. I didn’t realize how vehement I was about this subject until a colleague of mine, Jess Kimmel,  wrote an article on the subject of moderation. She did that gonzo, unsuspected thing I do to people all the time. We had a “conversation,” and then she went away and put everything I said into an “interview.” Cheek.

The post Yes Virginia, I Was a “Highly Functioning Alcoholic” (HFA) first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

 To help them escape when they’re blue?

In the old musical Camelot, Guinevere sings a little ditty about being sad. I can’t remember why she’s sad – something to do with cuckolding her husband and a war raging… Anyway, she is feeling blue, which is an unfamiliar sensation, and together with the king she warbles the heartfelt (yet condescending) question, “What do the simple folk do?” It is clear she doesn’t know how to handle the pedestrian feelings she’s feeling. Dance a fiery dance? Whistle for a spell?

“Simple folk,” or in my case sober folk, don’t have a panacea for sorrow or life’s difficulties. They just have to live them. After four years of sobriety, this fact is still a bitter pill for me to swallow. Figuratively speaking.

Not the best sober day…

Yesterday was not a great day for me. The internet was down in the office and my apartment after a big storm. My phone is doing something weird with my car – both of them smart as whips, but not speaking to each other at the moment. I felt distant from the world. On top of that, I had to make a personnel change at work. I think I have the reputation of being like Scrooge with the Muppets (“Our pens are turning to inkcicles…”), but there is nothing worse than dealing that kind of blow to another human being.

I found myself at a too-cool-for-school coffee shop on Lyon Street feeling weird. There is no other way to describe it. Just weird and disconnected and a bit annoyed, drinking a cup of coffee I didn’t want. My laptop was spitting out the news of the world, but I still didn’t feel a part of it all… It didn’t occur to me until this morning, that I was feeling:

1. Compassion

and

2. Separation

and

3. Inconvenience

Looking for the “simple” solution…

These were all reasonable sensations under the circumstances. It is clear I am still a bit rusty when it comes to dealing responsibly with the inevitable peccadillos of sober life. And why not? For twenty years I used alcohol to deaden my surprisingly sensitive nature. My beloved brother got leukemia and needed my bone morrow? Drink a liter of wine. My husband got fired? Run out for the biggest bottle of sweet and cheap I could find. Divorce? Wow – wine comes in screw caps – you can start drinking on the way home! Feeling socially anxious at the party? Queue up at the open bar!

I could go on. But the point, is that part of living this sober life is experiencing sorrow, discomfort and annoyance without using anything to deaden the feeling. There is no simple solution or someone I can pay to suffer on my behalf.

But, there is also great joy. And there is something to be said for accountability. I felt a bit ragged yesterday, but this morning when I woke up I felt fully responsible for my actions and okay with it all. The internet is working. The rain has stopped. And the fact is, in recovery, we do whistle or dance or hike or drink a cup of coffee when the going gets tough.

The momentary unease is a small price to pay for the simple, sober life.

The complicated sober life…

The post What Do the Sober Folk Do? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I guess, if I were being honest, I’d have to say I am the kind of person who enjoys being alone in a remote cabin in the woods. I am writing from one now. If you met me, you would not think of me as some solitary, grizzly gal. I shave my legs, I carry on lively conversations when needs be. I can even be the life of a party if I put my mind to it…

But since I got sober, I enjoy my solitude even more…

I used to start all my drinking stories with “I ended up,” As if I were cast ashore by a tempest or airdropped into the calamities that befell me. As if I were not responsible for my misadventures – tossed in by a capricious God. But since I got sober, I take full control of my actions and full culpability for my frailties. It is freeing and a bit disarming.

Kind of like the time I was getting ready to move from our first house and I was packing up the attic. I found boxes and suitcases full of my husband’s old socks and dented golf balls. In the seven years we had lived on Lamplighter Lane, he had never thrown away a pair of argyles or a golf ball. He was a box-keeper. I suppose it’s better than bags of human hair, but you think you know someone…

What about when you surprise yourself?

It’s weird enough when the surprising behavior happens with someone else, but what if you surprise yourself? The fact is, that after all I have read about “the opposite of addiction being connection’, I want to be alone. Not all the time. It’s not like I am a recluse or even want to wear animal skins and hole up and grow my finger nails like Howard Hughes.

But after a long day at the office, or after a vacation where I am with family or friends 24/7, I want (need) to slink off somewhere solo and recharge. I don’t want to have to apologize for that.

So how does it fit with my sobriety?

But how does this work with my sobriety? Isn’t someone frowning right now into their tablet and thinking, Oh boy – she’s headed for a fall… Isolation is the bugaboo of the addicted set. You cannot be sober and isolated. Cabin in the woods? Alone? Kiss of death… Get thee to a meeting…

But remember naysayers, there are many paths to recovery. And there is a big difference between isolation and solitude. I’ve written about it, so I know. If you are an introvert or a loner, sobriety can be an additional challenge. But in taking responsibility for my actions, I have also accepted my idiosyncrasies. It feels to me like the definition of “recovery” and it does not preclude social time or group meetings.

Careful…

For the solitary, grizzly sober folk, the key is routine and forced community. Does that sound like an oxymoron? And we must never go off the grid or not be available by email or phone. Periods of solitude should be limited and the recovery tools that serve everyone else with a substance use disorder, are particularly important. I have yet to stay in a remote cabin that doesn’t have a “secret” booze cabinet, for example. The evil little devil on the shoulder can whisper in your ear, “Who would know?” And who, but you, would hear?

Most importantly, I do not recommend a stint alone in the woods for the newly sober. Why test yourself? You’ve been through a lot…

As I navigate this sober life, I learn more about myself every day. I like the fact I can tell the world I am content all by myself. I am thrilled I have finally begun to understand what makes me tick (speaking of cabins in the woods…). And I am confident I have developed the tools to do what I like, but also mitigate my natural tendencies to isolate.

At least I don’t hoard old socks…

The post I’m Solitary Sober… What Kind of Sober are You? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

One of the things that has been wonderful about getting sober, is meeting new people online from around the planet. I have readers in 32 countries. Isn’t it incredible, when you think about the reach of the internet?

I think of myself as a student of the world. I’ve been around. And when my friend Lotta Dann, who runs the Living Sober NZ website, was looking for someone three years sober or more, to answer some questions for her readers, I jumped at the chance. I’ve never been to New Zealand.

Living Sober…

Lotta, who is also Mrs. D is Going Without is someone I admire and read regularly. And her Living Sober website is full of fun activities and information for recovering people all over the globe. I have traveled in person to that side of the world a few years ago, and it took fourteen hours and the day changed. I had to spend the night in Hawaii. These days, with a little lag, Mrs. D. and I are able to communicate real time. Awesome.

Take a look at my interview and join the Living Sober NZ community if you like – it’s free. Leave a comment!  Click below. Oh and I had to tell my age… I guess you knew I wasn’t an ingénue, with all this experience under my belt, right? I’m actually proud to be reinventing myself at this late date.

And I’m proud to be Living Sober all over the damn place!

Living Sober www.livingsober.org.nz A community website designed to supporpeople who wish to free themselves from the clutches of alcohol. Living Sober is not for profit, nor is it concerned with alcohol reform or public policy. It is about self-education and empowerment, based firmly around the concept of community.

The post Living Sober on the Other Side of the World… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

Brenda responded to one of my blog posts by saying, “I always drink club soda, because I like staying in control at all times.” That’s not something you hear every day on a sobriety blog. I think most heavy drinkers love the feeling of being out of control. The photo above is how I saw the world for several years. And how the world saw me. Out of focus. Out of control. Uncomfortably numb…

I have to admit, looking back on the days of wine and contusions, I liked the feeling of getting drunk. Emphasis on the word “getting”. There was that fuzzy half hour when all my troubles slipped away and I felt release. But, I drank so fast, and so much, the “tipsy phase” didn’t last long. I was in the “drunk phase” within an hour.

Bruises, Contusions and Chipped Teeth

After that, it was a calamity of overturned chairs and pratfalls. The long tumble from a barstool (three strong men to hoist me up)… I hear from readers all the time, about their prior, drunken falls down flights of stairs. It’s a wonder we lived to tell the tales: collapsing in gravel driveways, cutting off important body parts while cooking, operating heavy machinery badly… all that broken glass.

What in the world were we thinking? A friend of mine says, “The reason we were able to withstand the catastrophic accidents, was because we were loose and anesthetized.” That is probably true, but I walked around with black and blue shins for a number of years. The “frequent flyer” discounts at my cosmetic dentist were a direct result of passing out face first onto granite countertops. I felt too pooped to participate most of the time. The only thing I cultivated was thirst, lies and excuses.

No Laughing Matter

I can laugh now at some of the fine messes I got myself into while drunk. It’s sort of like watching that silent movie, where the guy hangs from the face of a clock. My life was death defying and slapstick. But it’s no laughing matter. Drinking plays a big role in reduced work productivity, emergency room visits and avoidable death.

• 13% – 60% of accidental falls are alcohol related
• Drowning accidents involve alcohol one-third of the time
• 8% of all ER visits each year for illness or injuries are associated with alcohol.
  
• Evidence links a high proportion of deaths from fires and burns to drinking.
• 1 in 3 cases of violet crime involve alcohol
• half of traffic fatalities are alcohol related
• trauma deaths involve alcohol 50% of the time

Taking Better Care of Yourself…

I still have no feeling in the middle finger of my right hand. I basically cut the tip off while chopping veggies for a salad at a dinner party. My guests didn’t know I was bleeding, because I took another swig of wine, wrapped my finger with a towel and ignored it. I didn’t feel the pain until the next morning. I cannot imagine that scenario now, but it was typical of the ill regard I showed myself when I was in my active addiction. That is no way to entertain. That is no way to live.

These days I am bruise free. I can’t remember the last time I missed a dining room chair, or toppled onto a marble sink in the ladies toilet. My teeth are in my mouth. My life is in focus… and in technicolor.

I tout the reasons for quitting drinking all the time. Stop it for your good looks. Quit for your blood pressure. Get sober so you don’t have to wear long pants, long sleeves and dark glasses. Do it so you can look back on all those crazy, dangerous times and laugh, like it happened to someone else…

The post The Days of Wine and Contusions… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I heard from an old boyfriend the other day. Does anybody else get Facebook private messages, where people you haven’t heard from in years start a conversation without preamble? I have now had every past relationship of merit check in with me on social media.

It reminds me of those Sci-Fi movies where people are traveling to another galaxy and it takes so long they have to be frozen for the journey. They step out of the chamber stretching, a little disoriented and their plucky colleague says, “Coffee’s on,” as if 20 years hadn’t slipped by while they were dreaming in a cryogenic slumber…

My most recent message from the past said, “Hey dark dank, how are you” – no question mark.

This from the golden boy of my college years – a wholesome, handsome surfer who hailed from very close to where I live now. I have been thinking of him lately and I feel like I might have conjured him up. It is disorienting, like magic, to have that familiarity across the wires after so much time has passed…

Sober Social Media

I didn’t even have a Facebook, Twitter or Instagram profile until I got sober (thank God). I was too busy in The Bahamas, squandering cash and icing hematomas to post the photos or look for longlost college flat mates. Now that I am social media savvy and relationships-past seem to appear like restless spirits (there’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whoever you are…), I have been blindsided a few times by the question, “So what have you been doing all these years?”

Do I or don’t I mention the alcohol problem?

I’ve thought about this, and it seems there are really only five ways to answer the question, “So what have you been doing for the past (fill in the blank) years?” Especially if like me, your past is checkered and every last person from your past has checked in to ask about it.

5 Ways to Answer the Question, “So what have you been doing all these years?”

1. Tell the whole truth – This is someone who has found you after at least 10 address changes, some in foreign countries. This is a person so dogged they tracked you through a couple of name changes. So tell them the truth. Say something like, “I am doing incredibly well – I look and feel great – on top of the world! I did have a few bad years; I was drinking a lot, but I’m sober now.”
2. Tell a variation on the truth – If you haven’t written a blog about it, you can soften the truth. As long as when they Google your name a bunch of videos don’t pop up with you talking about the time you got pie-eyed and bought the entire city of Los Angeles a drink from your W Hotel mini-bar. Say something like, “It’s been up and down, but I am doing a lot of hiking these days and I just completed my first marathon!”
3. Omit the bad stuff – I suppose if you are going to rekindle a romance or meet in a city midway between your home states for an assignation, you should tell the person you are banned from casinos for life or that you have a prison tattoo on your neck, but otherwise it is okay to exclude the really bad stuff.
4. Ask them what they’ve been doing – Answer their question with a question. Say something like, “You first. I’m dying to hear what you’ve been doing.” Take your cue from their response. If they list perfecting “the ultimate Bloody Mary” as one of their accomplishments you may want to temper your life story…
5. Lie – Telling the truth and mornings are my favorite things about sobriety. Because of this, I get up early and I tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. However, I think it is perfectly acceptable to tell a tall tale about where you were during “the missing years”. There are still secrets in this world. Just keep your white lie close to the truth and keep it simple.

I Am Not My Addiction

I tell myself all the time I am not my addiction. But I would not be where I am now, or be the person I am now without it. I am not ashamed of my past. I  am an open book about the mess alcohol made of my life. It’s just that sometimes, when I am explaining things to those I haven’t heard from in a while, I get a bit hamstrung. I get embarrassed.

Which is why the way I say it is so important to me. The veil of words that justify the “lost years”. If they don’t get it, they don’t get it, I suppose. Don’t turn over a stone and then get squeamish when a worm crawls out…

Which reminds me – the reference above to “dark dank”. It;s because I made fun of some guy in my Creative Writing class for using this obviousness to describe a basement. It became a catchphrase to mean “inane” to my friend and me… It’s funny the things we remember.

It’s funny how some things never change…

The post Found on Facebook – 5 Ways to Explain the Drunk Years… first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I have two stories about going left, and one conclusion:

Story One

I was in a therapy group one time, and a woman said that if she was driving down the street toward her house and the light was green on a certain street, she’d “go left” and drive past the ABC Liquor store. Of course she wouldn’t go past, she’d pull in and start drinking again.

I think it’s interesting the way people fool themselves into drinking, or leave their sobriety to chance or superstition. I wonder what the woman was hoping for? That the light was “red” so she could pull into the right-hand lane and head home another way? Or that the light was “green,” giving her a sort of dispensation from on high, “Go ye left and drinketh till pie-eyed-eth.”

Story Two

I spent this past weekend with Carrie, a friend from high school and beyond, who has also had some issues with overdrinking. After sharing stories of drunkenness and cruelty (I was not someone you wanted to fall in love with, when I was in my twenties), we decided that we may have been each other’s alcoholic fountainhead. We remembered one evening in Virginia Beach when we hit a local bar with a name that had Harbor in it, although it wasn’t on a harbor. We started drinking Harbor Lights: a concoction of several types of liquor in a decorative, lighthouse shaped glass that was set on fire. Festive and dangerous – just what we seemed to be looking for at the time.

Anyway, we got seriously drunk, but I was less drunk than she was. As I tried to drive us back to her house in her car (I was new to Virginia Beach and living with her at the time), I asked, “Carrie, which way to your house?”  She just kept responding (as she thrashed around the back seat like a trapped badger), “Go LEFT!” Even I knew that turning left, over and over, would get us nowhere fast.

Conclusion

I’ve been reading a lot about habits recently. How a bad habit is made up of three things: cue, response and reward. How the only way to break a bad habit is to change the response. In Story One above (if you will grant me that pulling into an ABC Liquor store at opening time, salivating like Pavlov’s pups is a bad habit), the cue is the green light. If the woman could make herself drive straight through the green light to the ice-cream parlor or to a friend’s house for coffee and conversation – she would begin to rewire her brain. There is pleasure in going straight (pun intended).

Maybe the title should have been: Tricking Yourself Sober – GO STRAIGHT! But that’s kind of corny…

The post Tricking Yourself Sober – GO LEFT! first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

I have a confession to make: I am a little afraid to go back to The Bahamas. It’s the land of “wine for breakfast” and “every day’s a holiday,” after all. I was looking through some old photographs this weekend, and I was back in Blue Heaven – I could smell the rust and salt. Having to leave Staniel Cay is the one regret I have trouble putting to rights in my (oh so) sober head. Dee says I would have died if I’d stayed and she’s probably right, but what a way to go: sky and sea so blue, it’s like being inside a prism…

About a year after I left The Bahamas and when I started posting blogs to Facebook, a woman named Marty wrote to me from Staniel. It was one of those Facebook private messages and she said she had been worried about me the whole time I was living in the islands. She could see, even on the “Island of the Lotus Eaters“, that I was in trouble with alcohol. I give her credit for not approaching me like the Jehovah’s Witness missionaries who ventured onto my deck, heaven-bent on saving me from myself. I would not have listened. I would have said something mean.

I found out Marty had been sober, and a big proponent of AA for more than 30 years. Imagine the strength of that – living someplace where it is common to see people of all walks, on the public dock at 7 AM with beers in hand. Where the main source of entertainment is drinking and smoking pot (and boating and vacationing and snorkeling and island hopping and golf-carting: all under the influence). Where there are no 12 Step meetings.

Marty’s invited me to come see her. I think I might. Next year: maybe I’ll be ready next year…

Today I’m not drinking because I’m going back to The Bahamas (some day) and I want to look really good (and not drive my golf cart onto the decorative rock in front of the yacht club…)

The post Sober in The Bahamas? Really? first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.

For a couple of years before I quit drinking I walked around with a continuous, low-grade hangover (when I didn’t have a top-of-the-line hangover). Which is weird, because I hate the feeling and a hangover is preventable. That salty taste in the back of the mouth, the shakes, the sensation that someone big is pressing a knuckle into the tender base of your neck, the waves of biliousness and for me – strange auras of light and a weird sinking sensation, as if my heart was taking too long to power up between beats…

Here are some interesting hangover facts:

• The biggest hangover culprits are: tequila, vodka and red wine
• When you are hung-over your brain is dehydrated and it shrinks
• Women suffer hangovers worse than men (pound for pound less water in the body to dilute alcohol)
• Smoking makes hangovers worse (duh…)
• Eating protein helps mitigate a hangover
• Hangovers cost the U.S. $148 billion annually in missed work and poor job performance
• The professions most likely to be hung-over on the job are: waiters, realtors, salespeople, police officers and chefs
• 51% of U.S. workers have been hung-over at work
• 19 % of workers have called in sick when they were hung-over
• The worst age for hangovers: 29
• Average hangover lasts for 9 hours and 45 minutes.

I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with hangovers any more…

The post A Life Without Hangovers first appeared on Waking Up The Ghost - Alcohol Recovery.