The Last Christmas Before I Got Sober
Christmas Day, 1994 I was holed up in my 3-room, 1920's Hollywood style studio--blankets nailed over my windows to keep "them" from looking in. The electricity had been turned off, my sleepless nights filled with madness lit by candle light. Buying drugs and booze were more important than keeping the lights on. I had visited my dealer's house the night before, "all the drug addicts are here!" joked one of my lower companions. I stopped at the liquor store on the way home, there may or may not have been "Merry Christmas" from the store clerk. I was stocked with what I needed to get me through another day. My great-grandmother had just died. She was my mother, my champion, the person who always encouraged me to be my best. She had set the bar high, both morally and scholastically. I felt like I let her down in every way. I helped care for her but in the end, I left due to my addiction. The cruel voices that tormented me said "she died withou...
