I still called it a “drinking problem”; I couldn’t make the leap to alcoholism because that was too great an admission, far too final.

I would take a drink, and then I knew everything was going to be all right. I was going to clean up my act; everything was going to change—you’ll see. It didn’t; nothing changed. I tried so many ways of beating the game: I went to church and took a pledge; I went to a Native sweat lodge; I would do something so I would be put in jail; I vowed to st

That, of course, is how an alcoholic starts not to notice it. Just this one time. That’s how you put it to yourself: I’ll just do it this one time, the same way a jealous woman might pick up the phone at midnight to see if her lover is home, or cruise slowly past his house to check his lights, promising herself that this is the last time. I know th

At first this strategy seems to work, because drinking does temporarily numb unpleasant emotions. In the longer run, though, it backfires disastrously. Despite all your efforts to escape your experience, the truth is that you’re still where you are—stuck in your dysfunctional family or your abusive relationship, suffering from depression, or not co