I would watch my mother drink herself to sleep at the kitchen table on a nightly basis. Cigarette in one hand, book in the other with a mason jar topped to the brim with cheap wine. She would wake up and head to work without fail. Everyday. Everynight. When she had gotten sober 7 years ago, I felt like I had finally gotten a mother and couldn’t have been any prouder of a human being in my life. Now she had a son who was deep in alcohol addiction. I worked hard and gotten where I wanted to be in my career but had done it all with the shakes. My alcoholism, which unbeknownst to me started when I picked up my first drink, was taking a massive toll on my body, mind and personal life. I was the last to know. I made sure I secured myself in my career so I could continue drinking without feeling guilty. My job couldn’t stop the damage I was doing, but it could have paid for a nice funeral. That’s where I was headed. One day I had enough. I knew that the withdrawal and at home detox I was about to experience would be one of the worst yet, but I knew it would have to be the last. Today I am 18 months sober and hope to continue one day at a time.