I Hate Thinking About My Drunken Past, But I Have to in Order to Stay Sober
My past is a constant reminder of where I never want to go again.
When I look back at my nineteen-year drinking career, one of the main things I feel is shame. The number of unbearable, bewildering, extreme cringe-worthy moments are impossible to count. I embarrassed myself on so many different occasions, it’s a wonder some of my friends and family still speak to me.
From the very first time I tried alcohol, up until my last, extra-tall, perfectly-chilled glass of chardonnay, I was the prototypical train-wreck of the night.
If you were partying with me, chances were, I’d end up a complete disaster.
My early drinking days were the real smash hits of my career. Back then, I really knew how to throw it down. I was a legitimate liability to the brave souls who partied with me.
By the end of the night, if I wasn’t sprawled over the toilet puking, I was hysterically crying. If I wasn’t hysterically crying, I was arguing with someone. If I wasn’t arguing with someone, I was probably sprawled over the toilet puking, while simultaneously hysterically crying.
And, if for some reason, I wasn’t doing any of those things, I was definitely making a fool of…
