Boy and I had been disintegrating for a month or two. I had given him my last effort: my sobriety. Note! He did NOT ASK ME TO DO THIS. This is about me, not him. But the point is that I TRIED to smoke weed, I tried to be “normal”. I tried to give him the twenty-something life society tells us is “fun” and “hip” and “thrilling”... But normal isn’t normal for this little alcoholic, unfortunately, and by the time we had jetsetted down to Costa Rica, I was in deep water.
I won’t divulge the gory details. I will try to concentrate on the present. But to summarize: I relapsed almost to the point of no return – I didn’t drink, but I did everything else. And I broke something I had been building, with or with out my knowledge, for two years.
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