Hey, it’s Allison. Welcome back to Dry. Where I share writing and voice notes about my evolving recovery from alcohol addiction.
A bit of a heads up that today’s post is behind a velvet curtain, so to speak, meaning it’s for those who bought tickets (are paid subscribers). I hate the term “paywall” because that isn’t what this is, it’s not a Wall meant to Keep People Out. I don’t want to exclude, and everyone is invited inside. But there is a small entrance fee because this offering is that private, and that sacred, to me. A subscription to Dry is $5/month or $30/year, which is the lowest pricing Substack will allow.
If you know me personally in real life, meaning you are my family member or friend: Please proceed with great caution. There are things I have lived through that you do not know about. It may be that it’s better that way. Your call. But once you read my private stuff, there will be no pretending you didn’t.
This episode/post is about what may be called my “rock bottom” night of drinking, and what I learned the next morning that saved me, which I have never shared about publicly before. I share it not for gruesome details (the truth is, telling this story physically hurts and I’d rather not, but I think it might help someone, so here we go), but because of the flash of clarity that it offered me—which was the key to unlocking my eventual recovery.
My intention for the rest of this year is to release one post per month behind this velvet curtain in order to allow us a more private setting to talk about some harder things.
Let’s get to it.
