This really resonates with me but in a different lane. My addiction was food, forty years with eating disorders. While mine began YEARS before there was an entire industry dedicated to monetizing our misery, nowadays I see bloodsuckers everywhere. The NDA (National Eating Disorder Association), endless conferences, our own magazine, blah blah. Making money off both our misery and as you indicate, the desperate need to claim our freedom from it and get publicly acknowledged for it. Which to me is indicative of how little progress we’ve made, that we feel the compulsion to shriek it to the wider world. You know when you’re done for good as you’ve stated. It has nothing to do with a fucking t-shirt. You feel it in your bones. Your soul sings differently. As does yours. Perhaps what I love best about your piece are your frank disclaimers right up front. Not a goddamned thing changed the day I walked away from my cookie stash. Except, everything did, but at the molecular, quiet level, in the deepest rivers. Those move more slowly, more gracefully. As you describe. A lovely piece. Sobriety is intensely private. In an ideal world, it’s between you and you. Period. Over time others begin to notice and appreciate the differences. Nobody needs to set off fireworks. Very nice piece. Thank you.

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