Okay, Fine, Dammit » Nine days sober.

Nine days sober.

January 29th, 2010

I took my last drink nine days ago. I admitted I am powerless over alcohol, and that my life had become unmanageable.

There it is.

***

I have been silent online. I have been suffocating beneath the weight of my truth, the elephant on my chest, the muzzled agony in knowing that if I can’t say this, I can’t say anything at all. I don’t want to say anything else.

I have written and re-written this post in my head a thousand times. I wanted it to be just right. I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t know how it–I–would be received. In the end, it’s really about that word, powerless; there is no prettier way, no way less shocking, no way more poetic to speak my truth. I choose my words carefully and that right there is the one, the only one I need to know, the only one I have the energy to utter most of the time: powerless. I was powerless. I am steadily reclaiming my power now, one day at a time.

***

I am not one of those tell-all bloggers. I am uncomfortable in the spotlight. I love to write and I relish the community that blogging brings to this craft, the loneliness you break by being here. I do.

But I am not fully honest with you. I still stubbornly believe the people who bring me chicken soup and suffer through my neuroses in person deserve to know things about me that you don’t, and vice versa. I don’t believe in giving you all the details, in telling you the names of my children, in journaling my every move and thought. And you all know that, and yet you keep coming back. You make me feel like I’ve given you just enough of me, shown you just enough, that you find me worth liking and worth your precious time. I sit here behind this screen and think, But they don’t know me at all. Everything I have ever put out into this space is real and true, yes. It’s just that there are so many things I haven’t put out there.

I need to ease up, though, because I now understand I was keeping many of those things from myself, too. And one of the biggest components of my disease is the need to have everybody like me. Impossible, yes, but that doesn’t stop me from reaching, from withholding, from editing, from dancing, for you.

Most of you never saw me drunk. I met my deadlines, I excelled at work, I juggled all of my social and familial obligations well. There was no crazy rock bottom for me, no wild nights at the bar, no sloppy fool-making, no jail time, no apparent loss. You rarely heard me talk about drinking, whether in person or online. I know that. That was on purpose. If any of you are in shock right now, I hope you hold that feeling close. I hope you look around at the people in your life, the women in particular, with a little more awareness. I don’t look like what I thought an alcoholic looked like, and that kept me drunk for many years. Trust me, though, there are a whole lot of us out there who look just like me, and if I don’t say it, you’ll never know. I preach it every day over on Violence UnSilenced, that speaking out will set you free. I am standing here today, shaking, but free.

Up until a few minutes ago I did not know whether or not I would hit publish. I agonized with my husband, with a few friends. I spoke with a family member and asked her to speak for the rest, asked her if they would find it upsetting, or too revealing. She said absolutely not–but that she was worried for me. She worried that a future employer would see these words and judge me unfit for work, that a schoolyard bully might use the word “alcoholic” as a taunt. I felt her concerns deep in my bones and I retreated back inside myself again. I slipped back between the sheets of the fear and settled in to sleep.

And then I woke up this morning and, much like the last nine mornings, this one looks a little bit different. I’m a little bit more lucid. A little bit stronger. A little less ashamed.

I woke up feeling very calm, very peaceful about the decision to go public with this. I thought about my friend Erika, who lives her truth on her blog every day. It dawned on me that a gay person must have these exact same worries upon coming out–surely a future employer, or a schoolyard bully, could and will read her blog and judge her in the same way I will most certainly be judged for this admission–but she does it anyway. She does it proudly, bravely, because it’s who she is.

Why should I be punished for doing the hardest work I’ve ever done in my life? This is not some questionable behavior I’m engaging in, this is who I am. Alcoholism is a chronic, progressive, fatal illness, and though I had no control over its occurrence I have absolute control over taking responsibility for it, over its treatment. If there is anyone out there, future employer or not, who will dismiss a girl for an act of honesty, an act of bravery, well. I’d rather not work for that person. I have also learned over the past nine days that quitting drinking is a very different thing from getting sober, and that most people have something, something, whether they drink or not. Most of us have something we use to disconnect, to zone out, to hide, to run, to stuff away. There’s no shame in facing that something head-on. I am learning that if there is something that knocks my breath away with fear, then that is exactly the thing I now need to move toward, not away from. That is where this lives.

One of the things they talk about in recovery is that you cannot control other people’s perceptions of you, other people’s reactions, other people’s emotions. They talk about making a commitment to live without fear. Even just one short week ago, I worried I would never speak these words here. I worried I would never write anything again because early sobriety has consumed my entire existence and if I can’t talk about it, I can’t talk about anything at all. My words have been stuck behind these other ones, with no dam-buster in sight. I either pull the plug on this blog and quietly disappear, or I face you, it, this. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Today, however, I choose the latter. I choose to stay and fight and expose myself to you with honesty and clarity, unapologetic.

It is the most utterly foreign feeling I have ever felt in all my life.

***

Alcohol is one of my oldest friends, one of my best. She is always there for me, right there, here, her breath hot on my neck, her whispers hissing in my ear. She slides a warm soft hand over my shoulder and down my chest, cups a breast and breathes into my hair You are mine. You are nothing without me. You can’t write without me. You cannot play with your children without me. You are not interesting without me. You are not a desirable wife without me. You cannot meet your deadlines without me. You cannot meet their expectations without me. You cannot carry their stories without me. You cannot cope, cannot deal, cannot face, cannot fight, without me. You are mine and I am yours and it is good, it is safe, it is warm, it is secret, it is ours. Stay. And for some reason I turn into her, not away, even though she cruelly names my biggest fears aloud. Or, maybe, because she’s the only one who does.

***

The amount, the circumstances, the longevity, the history, the escapades, the who what where when why, none of those things are important here today. (Though, if you want these details, I am willing to speak with you privately. I’ll answer any questions you have. Part of speaking this truth aloud is to help others, just in case you see yourself in me, as I finally saw myself in someone else. Someone who is an alcoholic.)

There is a trap in comparing my behavior to others, a voice, her voice, whispering, Well maybe you’re not an alcoholic. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. You’re not like them, after all. Come back. But I can’t compare myself to you, I only know what it was like for me. For me. All those nights of quiet, secret heartbreak. All those times my head hit the pillow and quiet disgust, the self-hatred, the shame that washed over me heavy, pregnant with salt, breaking again and again and again on my battered shoreline where I lay soaking, helpless, broken. My GOD it was exhausting, that secret, private, 24-hour internal battle. All those nights whispering You did it again. You weren’t gonna do it and you did. All those prayers on my knees, my heart on the ground, wailing Please! Help me stop. Please.

It’s just no way to live.

***

I’d reached out to a few people over the past year. Some of them are people you know, some are people you don’t. People I knew were in recovery, or people I knew would love me no matter what I had to say. I said a lot of things like maybe and kinda and sorta and what if and later and who knows but I never once used the word powerless. That came later, in a moment of clarity, a moment of great grace, a moment of tremendous, unexpected peace. It came spilling out of my mouth in a torrent of grief and fear and honesty and shock where it pooled at my husband’s feet and I saw my reflection in it, and I spoke those words for the first time, “I am powerless.” I cried those words ten hours before my very first support group meeting where I learned, to my great shock, that I had just spoken the first step out loud and I didn’t even know it.

From that moment on I have walked toward this beast, not away. I have walked with a dignity I haven’t known in years. I have walked on the backs of hundreds of people who have been there, and for once I have accepted that help without guilt.

And what a nine days it has been. Telling my story, over and over, to strangers, to loved ones in my life, to myself. The reading, the processing, the talk talk talk talk talking, these feelings (at least I’m told that’s what they are, these stealthy little bombs) assaulting me, invading my air space, pounding my former alcohol-fortified no-man’s-zone with bomb after bomb after bomb all day long, my God, my God, I am completely worn out. By 6pm every night my body is one giant ache.

But I’m grinning.

I have logged hours and hours and hours on the phone with my friend Heather, my personal tipping point, the match to my piles and piles and piles of alcohol-soaked shame. Together, we combust. Often spontaneously, sometimes multiple times a day. I have a lot of support in my life, but she is the only person on this earth who knows exactly what is going on in my head and heart right this very second because the inside of her head and heart mirror mine. What a gift. What an amazing, amazing gift.

***

Speaking of gifts, today is my daughter’s fifth birthday. I can meet her eye now, look at her straight as she dances across the room, alight with the pleasure and wonder I crave. All those promises I dared whisper only to my pillow, I can speak them now. I can keep them, I can hold them out to her the way she offers fistfuls of dandelions and crayons to me. I can sit next to her, and her ten-year-old sister, my girls, my daughters, and I can breathe them in and let myself feel it, sometimes terrifying, sometimes panicky, this hot, fierce, unpredictable love I hold so clumsily for them, for us, for this big, achy world. I couldn’t bear the weight of that feeling before and frankly, I don’t know how I’ll bear it now without my sweetest, most awful friend–but I will. I know I will. They are beyond worth it. (So am I, I’m told. I have faith that belief will come.)

I don’t know what’s next for me but I can’t think about that yet. I need to stay right here, sit here, inside this, in the now, soak, just be. Trust in the grace of the universe that brought me to this place today, that it will lead me where I need to go and that I don’t need to know exactly where that is. I don’t need to know. I need to let go.

***

I’ve got this very clear picture in my head, a memory that hasn’t happened yet, a prophecy of hope. I am barefoot on my porch, a summer skirt lapping lightly at my thighs, my arms bare and strong. I am squinting into the brightness. The warmth I feel on my neck is no longer her breath, but rather the sweet sun’s hot prickle. I am free and I am peaceful and I am open to what’s next. I am here.

I am Maggie, I’m an alcoholic, I refuse to be ashamed, and I’m going to say this out loud every day for the rest of my life. Thank you for letting me say it to you.

379 Comments

Motherhood Uncensored says:

Kudos, Maggie. You’ve changed the course and for that, you should be proud.

And you’ve probably just saved a bunch of people’s lives in sharing that.

Not just your own.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:10 am
slouchy says:

I am so proud of you. So. damn. proud.

This was absolutely courageous.

I love you, Maggie. (Loved you nine days ago, love you today, love you forever.)

January 29th, 2010 at 7:10 am
karey m. says:

i rarely comment these days…just absorb your words and pretend you can somehow feel my smiles and no small amount of pride at the writer and big heart you are.

same today. nothing different. except…i’ve got a huge amount of pride for your bravery, too.

and, as always, i believe in you.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:11 am
Anna Lefler says:

I admire you so much, Maggie, in so many ways.

Your post has touched me deeply and I’m sending you love, hugs and tons of support.

XO

Anna

January 29th, 2010 at 7:12 am
Scary Mommy says:

You are amazing, Maggie.

Your words never cease to leave me breathless and your courage is inspiring.

The road won’t be easy, but I know you will make it through gracefully. It’s just the way you are.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:12 am
nic @mybottlesup says:

endless love to you. surrounding you with peace in your new found freedom.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:13 am
Mary Jo says:

Maggie, I am so proud of you for taking this step. Thank you for trusting us with your revelation. I am here is you ever need anything. Continue to take care. HUGS

January 29th, 2010 at 7:13 am
kelly says:

I love you, Maggie girl. Not because you wrote this. Not for what you do or do not do. Just because you are.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:13 am
Stella says:

You have unimaginable strength.

Your words carry so much power as do your actions.

Thank you for sharing this piece of yourself.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:14 am
Marinka says:

You are amazing and honest and powerful. I’m so honored to know you. xo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:14 am
patois says:

I just *know* that your nine days turn into ninety days turn into nine years. You are going to make this happen. You are making this happen. I’m in awe.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:16 am
Quadelle says:

Thank you. For being brave. For sharing honestly. For staying on here. For the example that you set in facing the most difficult things with integrity, courage and grace.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:17 am
Kat says:

Every time I read your words, I am blown away. You are amazing. Especially so today. Thank you for your bravery in sharing. Much love to you as you take this journey.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:17 am
Maria says:

xoxo – and you know those will be real if you make it to NY this year.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:19 am
Annie says:

Thank you for sharing and for being brave. You’re a strong woman.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:20 am
Issa says:

I am on my phone so I will come back again later to add more. I just wanted to say, you are so brave Maggie. Truly. To put yourself out there like this, to be honest, to take the first steps. Brave my friend. Brave.

Issa Reply:
January 29th, 2010 at 2:42 pm
I just want to add….you have all the support in the world sweetheart, you just have to be willing to accept it. It’s hard to put yourself out there. It’s even harder to accept the kind words, thoughts and support of those around you. It’s a new world, this world we’ve helped create and I still struggle with it. I’m finding that, I don’t care what I don’t know about someone, I just care to know them. If that makes any sense at all. I am no less of a blogger or writter or part of this community, because my kids names and pics aren’t on my blog. Blogging is my thing. For me. I’ve made the most amazing friends because of it though. Okay, sorry that was a tangent. Anyway….

I’m proud of you. So very proud of you, for taking steps to help yourself. I adore you and I’m here for you anytime. Promise. Hold your head up high today love, because you deserve all of this support. It’s hard, trust me, I know…but try not to hide from it. xoxo, Issa

ps? Happy 5th birthday to your daughter. Five is an amazing year.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:20 am
Sherrie Sisk says:

So incredibly brave. Wow. I sit in awe of you, with my memories of two alcoholic brothers and an alcoholic dad. I know from their struggles how incredibly difficult that first step is. You’ve taken it, and nine more besides before you even published this post, which must be, like, steps ten through a gazillion.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:21 am
Dijea says:

I am standing up applauding. You may be powerless against alcohol, but you are courageous, inspiring & loved in life.

You go girl!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:21 am
Em says:

Maggie,

I just wanted to say again how amazingly brave you are! I send me love and my support to you in all you do!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:21 am
Amanda says:

You are powerful.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:21 am
marymac says:

I admire your strength and courage. I was raised by a alcoholic who stopped drinking when I was an adult, and I not only forgave him but am happy to know and love him sober now. Recovery is a brave road to take, and I wish you all the very best on your journey.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:22 am
Splinteredones says:

Strong. You. Yes coming out is tough. But it’s done now. Proud for you. One moment at a tome, just one moment at a time hon.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:22 am
Deb says:

Standing by you, in your recovery and in telling your truth. xoxox

January 29th, 2010 at 7:23 am
Angella says:

Your story is going to help people, Maggie.

Kudos to you for sharing it, and for taking these steps towards a bright future.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:25 am
Becky (Princess Mikkimoto) says:

Maggie, my new dear friend. I’m so proud of you. As a child of an alcoholic and a former Alanon goer (as I said to Heather) if you ever need to talk, I’m here. Anytime, anyplace. REALLY!

Proud and love you!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:25 am
Sara Joy says:

You make me cry. In the very, very best way possible. For showing the strength and beauty of a woman. For being who we all want to be, for saying what owns us, what haunts us, and knowing it’s only defeat is in the pure oxygen that comes from exposure and acknowledgement. I know that grin and I know that exhaustion. They are honest and real, and nothing will shut up that evil little whisper like a brilliant dose of the truth.
You’re amazing. Not inspite of this, but because of this. May you own it every day the rest of your life.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:26 am
churchpunkmom says:

Maggie, you are so awesome. You are so brave for sharing so honestly here and I admire you greatly. I know, first hand, what it’s like to have that elephant on your chest, suffocating you and making you unable to write. Having something so big going on, staring you in the face, that it consumes you and makes you unable to say anything else. I’ve been in that place oh so many times. I applaud your courage to stand up and take back the power, even though the hands that hold the reigns may tremble. Just know that we are here. Here to support you and love you through it. God bless you, Maggie.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:26 am
Nancy says:

Thank you for having the strength to write that. While I do not know you, a) if I was a future employer, I would be impressed by your candor b) you will inspire others by being brave. Good luck!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:26 am
Sarah says:

Congratulations Maggie! I’m happy for you that you are coming forward and making such big decisions for yourself. You are awesome and even though there are going to be tough times, I know that you will do this.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:26 am
Sara Joy says:

Typo, crap. I can’t let it go – ITS. Ugh.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:28 am
Piper of Love says:

You are brave and it’s beautiful. You make me want to be brave.

((HUGS))

January 29th, 2010 at 7:28 am
IB says:

This is quite possibly the single bravest thing I’ve ever read in a blog. Congratulations.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:31 am
Kelly says:

I came here because of a RT on Twitter and I’m so glad I did, because what I just read showed me what a strong woman you are, and I am so proud of you. I wish you all the best on this journey.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:31 am
Mr Lady says:

WHAT. THE. FUCK. How did I not see this?

Dude, you and me need to talk. Seriously, I am an alcoholicoholic. I am here anytime, anytime, no matter what time, NO MATTER WHAT TIME. I got you through this, and I am ridiculously proud of you this day.

Like, I am weeping with pride. Not kidding.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:32 am
Dawn says:

I hopped over here thru Eternal Lizdom.
So this is my 1st introduction to you, Maggie.
Your words bring up special emotions in me…I’m the daughter of an alcoholic mother. She was beautiful and talented, and had so much potential, but her addictions took all that away from her. Today she is estranged from all of her family, and is a just a shadow of a woman.
With all of my heart that can be presented to a total stranger, I pray that your 9th day, becomes a 99th year. Best regards!!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:33 am
Mad says:

A hug on twitter and now a hug here.

Hug and courage, m’love.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:33 am
Tricia (irishsamom) says:

When are you going to write a book? Or have you done so already? You wrote the words that my heart has wanted to speak on so many occasions. This is beautifully written, if painful. And you are braver than brave, you are reaching so many women (and men), who don’t have words. I hope you know that you are doing something wonderful for yourself and your family. Thank you. : )
Tricia : ) xoxo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:34 am
Heather of the EO says:

Thank you. Thank you for sharing your truth with such grace, Maggie. And thank you for holding my hand through this…there aren’t enough words for that kind of thank you. You hear my words over the phone line and I take yours in and I feel beyond understood.

As I white-knuckle through these first days, I think of you and your words so often and feel boosted, like I can do this.

Nothin’ but love for you, friend. Sure is funny how there’s so much peace in the word powerless.

xoxo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:34 am
Julie @ The Mom Slant says:

Wow. Awed by your courage and self-awareness.

Thank you for writing this.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:36 am
Katie says:

I’m here for you, Maggie. And so SO proud.

I love you! xoxo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:36 am
Stimey says:

Congratulations, Maggie. You are very brave. You can do this. You are giving yourself, your children, and your family an incredible gift. Much love and good wishes to you.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:37 am
brittany says:

Maggie, I am so very proud of you. You truly are an inspiration. I love you forever and always

January 29th, 2010 at 7:37 am
Cecily says:

I’m here if you need me, happy to share my 14 years sober with you at any time.

I’m so proud of you.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:37 am
Dory says:

Did you think we’d love you less? Wonderful Maggie; we love you more. *hugs*

January 29th, 2010 at 7:37 am
melistress says:

I am so proud of you. I don’t know you from a hole in the ground but for VU and Twitter. This is my first visit to your personal blog. However, I feel a sense of pride and hope because it is the high functioning alcoholics that have the hardest time admitting there is a problem…which is unfortunately the first step to getting better. My own mother is a high functioning alcoholic and I don’t think she will ever be where you are at this very moment today.

Take a step back outside of your situation and brush off the shame and feel the pride that you need to feel. Then get better and keep that good feeling with you. Always.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:38 am
Crystal D says:

I hope today brings you freedom like you never imagined you could feel. I am 100% behind you and I’ll be here for you on days 10, 11, 12…365 and 3,650. Maggie you can be the woman and mom you want to be, I have absolutely no doubt in you.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:38 am
Miss Britt says:

Maggie, I know you asked us to keep the feeling of being shocked close… but, um, how about surprised? Does that count?

I can’t imagine the bravery it must have taken for you to put these words here. BECAUSE so many of us never suspected it, it would have been so easy for you to go on here as if nothing had changed, protecting yourself from any possible surprise or shame or ridicule.

And yet you didn’t.

I’m so, so rooting for you from here. XO

January 29th, 2010 at 7:39 am
abdpbt says:

Congrats on 9 days, Maggie. Here’s to a lifetime more. You can do it, one day at a time, just like the rest of us!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:40 am
Tracy says:

Congratulations, Maggie.

As a person who has been to many Al-Anon meetings, I think it’s wonderful that you decided to share this here. Transparency, shining a light on secrets and guilt – there is so much power in these things, so much healing.

I wish you hope and strength for this day, and the next one, and the one after that…

January 29th, 2010 at 7:40 am
Elizabeth (@claritychaos) says:

So proud of you, my friend. I”m just going to call you or come out to see you instead of going on here. That way I can hug you, too.

Congrats on your newfound freedom, Maggie. Whatever support you need, say the word and you’ve got it, sister.

xoxo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:40 am
Virginia says:

Maggie and the Ferocious Beast. Congratulations for coming out, speaking up, being a role model to those who need it, whether they realize it now or later. Good luck, and many many good wishes for a stronger and better Maggie the Sober.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:40 am
Melissa Wardy says:

Sending you strength and patience as you take yourself and your family on the path towards wellness. How very brave of you to change your course, and to share the journey. Be well.

Enjoy your daughter’s birthday and the freshness a new year of life brings to a child’s world.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:41 am
Arby says:

I grew up in an alcoholic household. Each year on his anniversary in AA, I thank my dad for the gift of his sobriety. It allowed me to get to know my father as a father, as a friend, as a man. Sometimes it makes him uncomfortable, but I remind him that if alcoholism is a family disease, then recovery is a family process. His sobriety is our sobriety. Next month is anniversary #30. 30 years. It’s hard to believe that much time has gone by. I’m proud of him. I’m grateful. You have given that same gift to your husband and your daughters. One day the girls will realize it, and they will thank you.

I learned through many open meetings that there is no one profile for an alcoholic. It doesn’t discriminate.
By sharing this here you reclaimed your voice, the very service you blessedly provide to others with VU. When I wrote of my personal experience with abuse on my blog, I thought about potential after affects of sharing such personal information. Ultimately, I decided to trust God that He would protect me. Like Indiana Jones taking the leap of faith onto the invisible land bridge, I stepped off the comfortable ledge and into the unknown. God didn’t let me down. One of my readers shared his concern that “future employers” would not hire me after reading my blog. That concern sorta misses the whole trusting God thing. You took a similar same leap here.

Obviously, by what you wrote here, you can write and write very well without alcohol.

There is a huge difference between being dry and being sober. If this new step in your life is consuming all of your time and energy, so be it. Take life a minute at a time and do what you have to do to remain dry as you walk towards sober. It’s hard work. I know that you can do it, one step at a time.

Blessings to you and your family.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:41 am
thordora says:

No shame Maggie. You have nothing to be ashamed of.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:41 am
liv says:

the person in me who wants to go for a laugh is saying, “well…at least you didn’t blog about blogging.”

but, the person who knows and loves and supports you no matter what sort of dish you serve up wants you to know that any time you need to toss something out here that seems unpalatable or like a grievous culinary sin, it’s okay by me.

you are you. that’s all you have to be, my love.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:41 am
Laurie says:

Sometimes I think we fear that if we tell our indvidual and collective truths the world (our littler one and the big one outside too) will crumble in on itself, but what I really think usually happens is that it floats up and up and up in a good way.

I have a feeling that that is what will happen, what is happening, for you – just enough to take the weight off but you will not lose your center. That wish goes with you, anyway.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:42 am
Kellee says:

Wow, good for you! What bravery it must take to stand up and share with everyone. I’m sure that sometimes you are going to feel weak, and insignificant, and powerless, but remember this… you are brave. You just proved it.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:43 am
ljpock says:

I wish you all the best in your recovery. Stay strong – you can do it.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:43 am
mihow says:

Brand new here. (I come from HerBadMother on Twitter). You’re a strong, brave woman. And I look forward to reading about your new journey.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:43 am
Alexis says:

I too am an alcoholic. It’s been over 16 years since I took my last drink, and I stand here in solidarity with you and everyone else who has walked and is walking this path.

Recovery’s tough, and the emotional fallout’s a bitch, but I promise you it does get easier. Be honest with yourself, be brutal when necessary -but remember to be kind to yourself as well. By taking these first faltering steps you’ve already done amazing things.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:44 am
Susan Smith says:

Maggie, you are the most courageous woman I have ever *known*. I am in awe of you, and routing for you every step of the way.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:45 am
Jennifer at Hip As I Wanna Be says:

I am so proud of you. This disease has touched my life in such profound, frustrating and exhausting ways that I was moved to tears when I read your admission. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers and will be silently with you as you go forward in your recovery journey.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:46 am
Melissa says:

Bravo.

My next door neighbour died this summer from liver failure. She was 41 and literally drank herself to death, leaving behind a husband, a 13 year old son and an 11 year old daughter. She could not find a way to get help, no matter how it was offered.

Bravo for having the strength to do something about it.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:46 am
Fran says:

If I suspected, it’s only because I’ve seen myself in your words (off-hand remarks & references that need no explanation). But…you’re one step ahead of me. The all-important first step.This topic, this question, this need for self-reflection is weighing on me and has been weighing on me.

I’m praying for you as you fight the demon. Secrets become gods. By your public admission of your powerlessness you render the secret powerless. You are blessed.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:47 am
Vicky says:

By now you must have heard this … “we’re only as sick as our secrets.” Purging this, releasing this, embracing this… it all helps secure your footing on the road.

And if one day at a time gets burdensome, remember that one hour at a time works too as long as you string them all together into a chain of recovery.

This whole piece reads to me like a big huge breath of exhaled air. Its such an honor as always Maggie, thanks for the honesty… welcome to the wagon.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:47 am
Velma says:

Hugs… and love.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:50 am
Nicole says:

Just when I think you can’t amaze me anymore with your writing. That you can’t possibly be any more real (in spite of what you don’t always say). You do this.

Alcoholism is an ugly beast – whether or not its prisoners are ugly drunks. I am the child of an alcoholic (though only tentatively; he happened to be in the room when I was conceived. I inherited that lovely predisposition from him and very nearly fell into that pit myself) and grew up around many others. They ran the spectrum from happy-go-lucky, to weekends only, drinker on the sly, to viciously mean and cruel bastard drunk.

Like you, many of these people lived “regular” lives, staying married, holding jobs, raising kids – responsible in all other respects. But about 2/3 of them paid a horrible price. One had a serious accident, didn’t learn from it and had license issues for years after. A few others didn’t live to see their kids raised. A few more didn’t get to meet their grandchildren. And most of them never made it to retirement. The other third paid an impossible price: they ended up alienated from family and friends, some in jail, some in and out of rehab. People who in their 40s and 50s looked 80 at best. Trust me – you want NO part of any of that.

You have given too much, have too much left to give, and have waaaaaaay too much to live for to let anything as insidious as alcohol jeopardize it. You are so incredibly brave and awesomely powerful. I don’t doubt for a second that you can do anything. Even if you can’t do it for yourself, I know you will do it for your family. I know you love them that much.

Your hero glow just got about 20 degrees hotter.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:52 am
Lisa @ Unfiltered Insanity says:

I’m going to echo everyone here. Kudos for taking the power back from the bottle.

One of my oldest and dearest friends, her mother is an alcoholic. The kind that gets put in jail for DUI. A successful attorney. The kind who drove her husband into a psychiatric coma. She still doesn’t believe she has a problem.

My own mother was an alcoholic. The last day I ever lived with her, she was with her coworkers partying all day. I was home packing and she was drinking. I only saw her when she came home for more bourbon. When she came home that night/next morning, she came into my room and cried and begged me not to leave her.

You saw your problem before you reached these points. That is a GRACE from God. That is a beautiful blessing and MERCY of His. I’m so proud of you, Maggie, I can hardly stand it.

Sending you my prayers and hugs and ALL my support!

January 29th, 2010 at 7:52 am
Abigail says:

Thank you. This was amazingly brave and inspiring.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:53 am
But Why Mommy says:

You are an amazing and strong woman. I am in awe of the courage it took for you to admit this and to take action. You have all of my support.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:53 am
Janet says:

Reading, bearing witness, throwing my support behind you.

xo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:53 am
Heather says:

Maggie,
I don’t know you (only your Tweets), but this – this made me cry. Just wanted to drop you a note to let you know that there is a complete stranger in Louisiana that’s VERY proud of you this morning. Thank you for sharing.

Heather

January 29th, 2010 at 7:55 am
Hyacynth says:

You, Maggie, are beautiful. Thank you for sharing your struggle and how you are overcoming.
You are absolutely right — just like you’ve given voices to those who have overcome violence with VU, you’re also giving a voice to those who struggle with alcohol addiction. And that is a wonderful way to use your gift of writing — you have a true journalist’s heart. So many who are struggling will identify with your words, and they will feel encouraged, empowered and strengthened. And isn’t that why so many of us whose hearts pump words through their veins run toward journalism and writing?
Will be praying for you to find renewed strength daily and adundant peace.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:56 am
Calcie says:

I too quit drinking one month ago. I too was not a typical drunk in that I never drank alone, never had a shot in my whole life. Since becoming a Mom ten years ago I drink very infrequently because I go out so infrequently. But here was the scary part – the not knowing. Was it going to be a “good” night or would I talk too loudly, grab or hit people’s arms, slur my words, hug everyone… I’m so tired of not knowing. My children have never seen me drunk but how many mornings did I wake up and say “thank God they didn’t see me.” I can’t keep risking it.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 11:59 am
Congratulations on a month! That sounds like such a long time to me. Thank you for giving me hope.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:57 am
amy says:

Power to you bright woman. I have lost someone to alcohol and she was as smart and sweet and amazing and cool and creative as we all are- she was all of us and it happened to her bc she could not use her voice or reach out and strangle her demons and it should not ever happen to anyone else as wonderful as you. You rage against this. You fight this. You have so much support and you are loved. You are special and have all of the power right here. Use it. You will change yourself and inspire others like you do. You just do. You are a honeypot of love. You are the light at the end of dark days my friend. You were born to shine. Go do it. I AM HERE if you need me. Reach.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 11:59 am
Woman, you just BREATHE eloquence. My God.

Thank you. xo

January 29th, 2010 at 7:59 am
Kate says:

With great admiration for you, Maggie….you’ve shared your story with us. Bless you, strength to you, and much love as you move forward.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:01 am
HaB says:

“Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear – not absence of fear.” — Mark Twain

May you have all the courage you need on your journey in finding new ways to master your fears.

Thank you soooo much for sharing with us. I applaud you for your courage.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:03 am
Gypsy says:

Thank you for writing this. I’m thinking of you, brave lady, and hoping for strength and clarity. Be well.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:04 am
Angi says:

I am so proud, so very proud, of you. We’re here to prop you up on every life journey. So. PROUD.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:08 am
BOSSY says:

What an amazing gift you’ve given the internet today. We are all lucky to have you — keep fighting the good fight. Your porch, skirt, hot sun dream is Right There.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:08 am
WhyMommy says:

Maggie,

I am so proud of you for speaking your truth. I know it’s hard — oh, do I know — but maybe this will be helpful. I agonized whether to speak my truth online two years ago, to tell all the gory details, and ifinally decided — what’s the worst that can happen? That when I apply for a job again that they find out that I WAS sick?

Not so bad when you look at it that way, is it? Now own it and let’s get on to getting better.

The power of the Internet, as you know, is incredible as you move toward healing.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:01 pm
I remember when you struggled about that, and I remember thinking–who on earth would discriminate against you for being sick? It’s funny (or not) how much harder it is to be as gentle with ourselves as we are with others.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:08 am
Chris says:

Hi Maggie. Once again you have managed to connect yourself to the rest of us by opening your heart. It is an amazing talent you have. Good luck on your journey. I know you will make it. Be gentle with yourself.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:11 am
Molly says:

Thank you. You are brave and you are strong and you will become powerful. Thank you.

I’m not an alcoholic, but there are definitely things that I’m using as a crutch, hiding from, that are affecting my life. I need to say them out loud and start dealing with them. Thank you.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:12 am
Mandy says:

I am not an alcoholic. I do however, and like most people, have secrets. Secrets that eat me up inside. I dream of a day that I can lay them out for the world to see. Perhaps leaving me, eventually, fresh and new. I am in awe of you. One day I hope to be so brave, so unapologetically brave, and stand in my truth and wear it proudly.
I wish you nothing but the best that your new life will surely bring.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:16 am
Rita Arens says:

What a beautiful piece of writing. Clearly, you didn’t need anything to help you, m’dear. Good luck, and thank you for sharing your story.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:17 am
MommyGeekology says:

Thank you for saying it to us. The rest of your life begins right now; so glad you’re taking control. (hugs)

January 29th, 2010 at 8:20 am
Karen says:

Wow. This is so achingly honest and powerful. You certainly have nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be proud of. I’ve often felt EXACTLY as you’ve described, but because of my agoraphobia. That’s my cross to bear, my shame. And I feel it as shame because for years I’ve been to scared to face the demons and be my own saviour. There has always been an easier way out of any situation. The problem is, it becomes exhausting and painful to carry and I’ve been left feeling like I’m a mere spectator of my own life. I feel like I’m just waiting to die.

This year is different. I’m also facing this stuff head on every day. Like you, I have a similar vision of me in the future. One of feeling free. One of fearlessness.

Be proud of yourself and know that through your strength you will not only find your truth, you’ll also inspire others. Others like me.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:03 pm
I’m so glad to hear you’re facing it head on. I’m already learning that these issues are so similar for all of us, it doesn’t matter exactly how it manifests (alcohol, agoraphobia, food, etc.) Here’s to freedom and fearlessness.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:20 am
Janine (@twincident) says:

Hi! I follow you on twitter mostly but saw @WhyMommy’s tweet and came here. I learned the lesson that I’m powerless over other people. That’s a tough one to learn. But I’m grateful to have the tools now. And I’ll keep coming back .

January 29th, 2010 at 8:23 am
Jill says:

I am surprised, shocked and awed by how many posts on this very same topic I have read in the past 6 months or so. But maybe I shouldn’t be. In the same way I blog openly about my depression, this is just one more way we open ourselves up through our blogs. I wish you all the best. Thank you for sharing your story and your pain. Thank you for continuing to open us up to Maggie.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:23 am
The Introvert says:

*Hugs* I am so proud of you for having the courage to voice your demons. I did that on my blog last week, and it’s rather empowering. When the weight of the secrets aren’t smothering you anymore and you can just say “I am powerless,” it sets you free. The truth sets you free.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:25 am
Jenny, Bloggess says:

I’m so proud to be your friend.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:26 am
Sprite's Keeper says:

Thank you for sharing this. You have my shoulders to lean on whenever you need, my friend.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:27 am
Melissa de la Fuente says:

Maggie…I have had the pleasure of reading your words before via my sweet friend Karey & today I came over to read your brilliant words again. You are so very brave & clearly so loved. I wish you all the very best in your recovery, no one should judge you & if they do, you don’t need them. Love will buoy you up & I wish you all the very best!
xo
Melissa

January 29th, 2010 at 8:27 am
Emma says:

Nicely done! You should be very proud of yourself, and don’t worry for a minute about some-future-employer type. You are a human, and this is your story.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:27 am
shari says:

Oh, Maggie.

I lived with someone who was a recovering alcoholic of 13 years and still he lost the battle.

Your bravery of admission and recognition that not all alcoholics wear the same face is why you are so loved.

I’m proud, very proud of you.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:28 am
bitchphd says:

Congratulations.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:34 am
Bon says:

well done, Maggie. well done.

and thank you, for making me think.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:35 am
sizzle says:

There are a lot of things I want to say but I fear they will come out wrong. So I will just say that I am proud of you for taking responsibility for your life and for wanting to be different. For you, for your kids, for your loved ones. I’ve always thought you were brave and now this. Thank you for sharing and for being you.

Sending you a lot of love & support. xoxo

January 29th, 2010 at 8:36 am
zeghsy says:

we love you, just as you are. the good parts and the bad parts. they make you who you are. i’m proud that you were willing to share this with all of us. we help hold you up when you need that. because (if nothing else) you would do the same for us. “friends are family you choose.” love you sister!

January 29th, 2010 at 8:37 am
Patrick says:

Keep coming back.

Also: 12th Tradition.

abdpbt Reply:
January 29th, 2010 at 5:29 pm
Come on, dude.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:37 am
Swanny23 says:

Followed a RT to get here, and am very glad I did. Kudos to you for your bravery and honesty. I wish you all good things as you journey down this road.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:37 am
Tara R. says:

I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to hit publish on this post. Your courage is amazing. There is a whole universe of people out here ready to help you and support you in this. Good luck!

January 29th, 2010 at 8:37 am
mamatulip says:

I am really proud of you, Maggie.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:40 am
Kim says:

Wow. What power the truth has. And what power your writing has. You’re going to help so many people uncover their own truths through this. Thank you.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:43 am
Kat1124 says:

Hi Maggie, I’m Kathryn and I’m a recovering cocaine addict. Ten plus years sober, praise God.

Brave, brave post. I’ve posted once on my blog about doing cocaine with my father for the first time, but I’ve never posted about all the years and years of substance abuse, extreme alcohol consumption that went along with it, the cost of that in both my personal and professional lives, the shame…so I think I know how you feel putting it out here. I’ve thought about posting about it many times, but I feel like I can’t for a number of reasons. But I will talk about it one on one with anyone who wants to, and have. It helps to know that so many others have wrestled with the same demons, and that they are years past that battle.

Not just the posting of it is brave, either…the getting honest with yourself is the biggest, the hardest, the thing we avoid the most.

Love you, and thank you for sharing such a personal part of yourself with us.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:05 pm
Thank you for saying that here, out loud, Kat. Thank you so much. xo

January 29th, 2010 at 8:44 am
Yo is Me says:

i am so happy for you. i’m so proud of you. i wish i had words, but they escape me. hugs and hugs and hugs to you.

you are beautiful. you are strong. you can do this.

haha, mr. lady.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:44 am
Megan says:

Thank you for sharing your experience and thoughts. It was brave and powerful. But powerful because you are powerful.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:45 am
sweetsalty kate says:

I’m surprised too, but so proud of you. LIke thordora, I’ll just say simply: no shame, sweet Maggie.

And I’m giggling at Mr. Lady’s alcoholicoholicism. xo

January 29th, 2010 at 8:45 am
Cheryl says:

I have never read your blog before this post today.

I am a 37 year old woman with an alcoholic mother (it is more than just alcohol with her though). She has NEVER admitted she was powerless over her addictions, and I believe they will consume her until she is dead.

You are VERY courageous. Even if you had never posted this, you should still be tremendously proud of yourself. I am, and I don’t even know you.

Good luck.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:46 am
Binkytowne says:

There it is and there YOU are. I wish you a sound sleep or a good cry or great big big bear hug after reading all that. You deserve all three. Good for you. Good for you. Good for you.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:47 am
BHJ says:

You got me with the 5th birthday part. Yeah, the kids. They make it a big deal. They figure things out by figuring out how you figure things out.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:48 am
Liz says:

you may be powerless, but admitting it is powerful!

January 29th, 2010 at 8:51 am
mary says:

Oh my God. I’m sitting on a conference call right now reading this and I’m crying. (Thankfully, I am on mute.) You are one amazing lady.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:51 am
Jett says:

Look at you go!

January 29th, 2010 at 8:57 am
Jeanette LeBlanc says:

You are brave, you are strong, you are wise, you are wonderful.

Your post made me think of what I wrote two years ago when I first came out publicly on my blog. Because you are so very right, this is a coming out – and it’s scary and it requires so much of you. I am both proud of and humbled by the grace and courage of this post.

My words from Oct 08:

“It’s not a one shot deal, this coming out business. Extracting yourself from a cocoon takes time, determination, a willingness to be exquisitely vulnerable. It feels safer to stay in the space you’re used to, cramped and dark but familiar. Everyone sees that transformation from caterpillar to butterfly, but did you know that the process of unfurling your wings hurts like fucking hell?

You must be willing to step out of your familiar, comfortable life into the vast, uncharted territory of another. You must step with intention into that wide open space, turn your face to the sky, throw your arms and your eyes and your heart wide open and just pray you’ve got enough grace to accept all that comes. No running away, no hiding, no chance to take it back. You just stand there, more exposed than you ever thought possible and say, “This is my truth”.

Your truth, and you, are breathtakingly beautiful.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:06 pm
Exquisite. And so, so, so, so true. Thank you.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:02 am
Lee says:

Oh dude. You and Heather, my icey, snow sisters, leading the way and lending your beautiful, strong voices to a chorus of silent women who will gain strength from your words and bravery and voice.

I totally love you, you know. I never saw your secret. But I’ve seen you. And you’re awesome.

And really? I’m kinda glad you’re out with this because now when I’m back in Madison, you won’t make me drink that boot again.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:08 am
magpie says:

You are brave and wonderful, and I wish you all the luck in the world.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:13 am
Georgina says:

AA saved the life of a loved one. I am forever grateful. – G

January 29th, 2010 at 9:13 am
Jenn says:

Congratulations Maggie. I am in awe of your bravery, your courage to tell your story, and your incredible talent to tell it so well. You continue to amaze and inspire me.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:13 am
MK says:

This will help others. Speaking the truth will always be the best course. I come from a family ridden with this disease. Both parents; one still sober, one died struggling. 2 brothers – one still sober, one struggling. My sister – in denial. It’s a fear I live with. A fear that I, too, will become powerless.

You are a wonderful wonderful strong person and God Bless you, Maggie. One day at a time.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:14 am
Lisa Rae @ smacksy says:

Welcome to the tribe.

Today is a great day.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:16 am
Chibi Jeebs says:

You amaze me and inspire me and humble me. So, so proud of you. <3

January 29th, 2010 at 9:21 am
Leah says:

Wow. I am here via a tweet by @leahpeah. This is a beautiful post. I’m 18 years sober, still active in meetings and service. I know how much it took for you to wriite this and I admire your courage. I’ve often compared to living in the dark w/ our diseaseis very much like what our gay friends have to live with everyday.

So glad you posted this, and welcome to the worlds biggest support group where you can find us anywhere and any time day or night.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:23 am
Dan says:

Congratulations!

The truth *will* set you free. Two of my best friends have now been sober for a combined 50 years and they still begin each day with the admission of truth. Good luck to you in your journey.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:24 am
Lesley @Avalea says:

This is my 1st trip to your blog and WOW! What an introduction. it’s wonderful to meet you. And I mean YOU, not you & “her”. I am pleased to make your acquaintance on this 1st day of your new public path.

The journey will lead you to new discoveries about yourself. Though difficult at times, many hands are extended for you to hold and lift you. I include my hands.

I send you warm energy to embrace you when you need it.

Thank you for allowing us to participate in supporting you.

(Hugs)

January 29th, 2010 at 9:24 am
Amy @ The Bitchin' Wives Club says:

Maggie, I am floored by your honesty, your willingness to share so much with us, your ability to write about your alcoholism in a way that is truthful, illuminating, terrifying, and yet comforting all at the same time. Comforting because you make it seem like anyone can admit that they have a problem, anyone can get better, anyone can make the decision to lead life differently, if they want to. Even when it scares the shit out of you. Even if it hurts so much you want to just run away and hide. I want to be there and hold your hand right now, dear friend.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:24 am
Jo says:

At first I had no words and then it turned out I had a million.

http://minnesotajo.blogspot.com/2010/01/dear-maggie-heather-and-meagn.html

January 29th, 2010 at 9:29 am
robinbondhus says:

Reading your story. I do not know you but I am so happy for you That took guts to be honest. and courage.A lot pf people feel ashamed about telling people but in fact this helps people because all people are human and lots of people are in the same situation but not admitting to it. Alcohol is so hard to quit as it is so available and legal making it the hardest drug to quit.Tons of people suffer with this. You are a hope for more people to get well .So be proud of yourself.Be proud blessings to you.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:35 am
sam {temptingmama} says:

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I am crying tears of joy for you this very moment.

I love you so much, my friend.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:36 am
Secret Agent Mama/Mishelle says:

Your strength amazes me.

Happy Birthday to you. And your daughter.

xo

January 29th, 2010 at 9:37 am
furiousball says:

good luck Maggie. if you need any courage via cover songs recorded in handfarts… i’m your man

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:07 pm
PAH! Comment of the day.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:41 am
Cyndi says:

Something I learned about addicts (that would be me) and alcoholics many years ago: they are the kindest, most sensitive, giving, caring and sharing people in the world. For many that is the root of the disease. We found someting to insulate us from feeling too much. What we THOUGHT was feeling too much. Turns out, we can deal and handle life without the insulation.

Your still the wonderful bean (us humans are mere beans in my world) I thought you were! Better, now, than ever! BUT, now getting even better!

Congratulations! I pray for your continued sobriety Wellbriety, is a better choice of words, for me. It encompasses so much more.

For a more connected take on things check out whitebison.org. I’ve been involved with them for many years.

Happy birthday 5 year old! You have just recieved the best birthday present EVAH!

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:09 pm
“the kindest, most sensitive, giving, caring and sharing people in the world”–yes. I’m seeing that in meetings. That really resonates.

I love “wellbriety.”

Thank you.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:41 am
Kelly says:

Nine days, and then ten, and then 30, and so on for the rest of your life. You are brave and strong and you can do this.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:42 am
K-Line says:

I haven’t read your blog, but discovered this post via Marinka’s tweet. Just want to say you have made a courageous change and I wish you all the strength in getting through this that you need.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:42 am
krista says:

our secrets are suicide. our shame is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
your honesty is the greatest gift you could ever give your family.
and, of course, yourself.
i grew up with addiction. i know what it feels like to watch a person lose themself. the fact that you are able to recognize the edge of the cliff before you dove off fills me with hope.
hope that this disease will not win. not always.
gah. i don’t have the right words.
i will just acknowledge your truth with an open heart and accept as much truth as you’re willing to tell.
p.s. i know you already know this, but you don’t owe us anything.

krista Reply:
January 29th, 2010 at 9:45 am
oh, and please forgive the grammatical errors. the english major in me is still sleeping.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:44 am
Titanium says:

Maggie, you’re my hero. May your nine days be ninety years- with a thousand beautiful things cradling the sacred space around your mind and heart. If each one of us was painfully honest, as you have been, we would all come out from the dark places where we cradle the secrets that kill us one day at a time. You are a rare gem- brilliant because of the very flaws and cracks that exist. You’ve let the sunlight and oxygen radiate through those cracks, and you’ve never shined so brightly as you do right now.

All these things
That come and go
Are handled best by hope
That through storm
And stillness
Somehow
The better Spirit leads
And from this-
Though we cannot know-
There is deposit for Good.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:45 am
Amy Amy Bo Bamey says:

WOW, I knew that took a lot from you to admit and publish.

I wish you much happiness in the future and hope these 9 days will turn into years and years for you.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:50 am
Sarcastica says:

I admire you so much; your strength, your honesty, the list of why goes on and on!

I’m proud of you

January 29th, 2010 at 10:01 am
Sunny says:

I’m so proud of you, Maggie.

You are wonderful and amazing, and I have faith in you.

XOXOXO

January 29th, 2010 at 10:10 am
Not Afraid To Use It says:

Wanted to express my love and support. I’ve seen too well what alcohol can do to those who admit a problem, and those who don’t. You are courageous and your honesty will give your daughter permission to be honest in the days to come. You held yourself accountable, and that is a phenomenal gift to give your family. Through your example, they will learn that coming clean about something, anything leads to healing. Hugs to you.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:10 am
Eternal Lizdom says:

An amazing amount of well deserved support is present already.

I admire your bravery. I respect that you are being honest with yourself and reaching out for support and help.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:11 am
Me says:

I am where you are, except I have yet to take my last drink. I see me here. Thank you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
January 29th, 2010 at 10:32 am
Please email me if you want to. Doesn’t have to be today. okayfinedammit [at] gmail.com

January 29th, 2010 at 10:11 am
Stefanie says:

So so proud. But you know that.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:16 am
Juliana says:

M~I am so proud of you for this post. You must feel so free to have spoken those words and I am just overwhelmed with the warmest of wishes to you. This a huge mountaint to climb and I feel as though you are on the top with your arms spread wide, your hair blowing the wind yelling this to the world, whispering to yourself. You slide back down to where you were, or you can go see the other side of the mountain and a whole different life–one that is amazingly more beautiful that you could have ever imagined…and I know that is where you will be. Where you are 9 days out—and I am so proud.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:25 am
Tabatha says:

All I have to say is, I don’t really know you, but I love you in the deepest parts of my heart. You’re amazing and the kind of woman and mother I aspire to be when I grow up.

This makes me want to pack up my son and drive the distance from Dayton to Wisconsin so I can give you a giant hug and let you know how much your bravery and honesty mean to me, to all of us.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:25 am
Diana says:

Conratulations doesn’t seem appropriate, but welcome doesn’t fit either. Both apply.

I still remember my first nine days as if they were the last nine – they were more than four years ago. Like you, I had no catastrophic bottom – just the realization that another day of drinking was far more frightening than anything sobreity had to offer.

You are so brave to share this and you will help others who see themselves in you. You will be in my thoughts.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:27 am
Just Shireen says:

You have allowed so many to be strong and brave and courageous and now it’s our turn to allow you to be strong and brave and courageous.

Congratulations, lady.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:33 am
deb says:

Maggie,

May I add my hug? My gentle wipe of a tear.
I pray you find strength in all of the moments and days to come. To live the life that was intended for you. To shine your light on others, on all the parts of your whole. Not to live in the temptation to be less , but in the power to be just okay. Or incredibly awesome. To choose. To be beautiful you.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:35 am
maggie, dammit says:

I am kind of in shock with all of this support. I mean, I knew you would be nice, but I’m having a hard time processing how it makes me FEEL (again, that new sensation of “feeling” things, ugh) and I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to just let all this love and light in, I don’t know, I don’t know.

But thank you. Thank each and every one of you for being here, right here, in my most terrifying moment.

There will never be enough words to express how grateful I am today.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:36 am
Dallas Diva says:

Holy Crap. Well, you have just blasted the shit out of one of the lies you tell yourself. You are an amazing writer stone cold sober.

Courage is facing your fear and moving forward anyway. You have shown great courage. When you get scared, come back to this post.

You ARE the amazing woman you want to be.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:47 am
Kaseyskrazymommy says:

I am very new to your blog. This makes me want to stick around and watch you succeed! You have taken the first step. You are strong and beautiful, you are desirable and loveable, you are articulate, capable and successful!

I wish you well on this daily journey, Maggie. Successes can come as often as minute by minute. No matter how big or small, those successes are vital to your journey.

Hugs and love to you and your family.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:54 am
Lil says:

Thank you, Maggie, for seeing that you had/have a problem and for doing something about it. My father died from alcoholism when I was 16. So on behalf of your one day 16 year old daughters (if I may be so bold), I thank you for sparing them the anger, the grief and the pain that an alcoholic parent can bring. Much love and supportive energy to you, Maggie.

Shelli Reply:
January 31st, 2010 at 4:25 pm
Lil said exactly what I was going to say, only my mother is a recovering alcoholic. I was even going to say “if I may be so bold as to say thank you from your daughters”.

God bless you on your journey. Thank you for sharing it with us. Congratulations on now being 11 days sober.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:57 am
Swistle says:

Hi, Maggie.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:00 am
kelly says:

I am so proud of you. Your words both touched and scared me. I only hope someday I have the courage to have the 9 days…

January 29th, 2010 at 11:05 am
jana says:

don’t know you, haven’t been here b4…saw this on twitter. Been sober nearly 24 years…got sober very young…not because I’m strong, because I hit my bottom early…it was hard…partying was everywhere, much of it tame and manageable…I had to learn to get to know myself, to crawl inside my body, figure out how to socialize and live life on life’s terms…it seemed like way young and I was mad. mad that I couldn’t be like others, mad that I was so out of control.

This journey has been amazing…I do reside inside my body, I have made friends (for the most part) with the unabated me. you will too…you have phenomenal support here. Peace !

January 29th, 2010 at 11:05 am
terry says:

i think you just took your first very big step. Not only did you admit that you are powerless you shouted it out to the world. With respect and admiration i applaud you. Now, take it one day at a time. One second at a time. And keep writing.

Have you ever read, The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. Maybe you should check it out.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:11 pm
I have that book but I haven’t looked at it in years. Thanks for the reminder, I’ll pull it back out.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:08 am
Noelle says:

You make me proud to also be from Wisconsin. Best wishes – hope to see you around the square at the farmer’s market.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:09 am
jodifur says:

oh Maggie, this is the bravest, most courageous post I think I have ever read. I wish you health and healing in your sobriety. And if this post helps just one person, including you, then it was worth it.

G-d speed, my friend.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:14 am
ubi es caelum says:

Hey, my name’s Meagn and I’m an alcoholic. Nine days sober is badass! It’s amazing, I remember thinking there was no WAY I could go one, let alone over a week without drinking. But the feelings that kept me drinking were the same.

In fact, you are totally a couple steps ahead of where I was when I quit, you can still write- and write beautifully. The biggest lie I ever told myself and one of the hardest to get over- was that I needed the booze to write.

Congratulations, you should be proud of yourself. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing and if you ever need to talk, hit me up. Over two years and counting.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:16 am
HisFireFly says:

Freedom.. that is the hope set before you, and Jesus is saying “Take it. I bought it for you.”

The peace in surrender is amazing and I pray it continues to wash over you again and again and again.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:31 am
baltimoregal says:

I’ll say it everywhere I can. I think you are one of the bravest women I know.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:40 am
Wendi says:

I wish you only the best, Maggie. You deserve it.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:43 am
Tony Noland says:

Good luck to you – sounds like you’re on the right track.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:43 am
amy2boys says:

Amazing you. You are amazing. So talented and so brave. I will be praying for you and keep you in my thoughts each day. You will do this.

xoxo
Amy

January 29th, 2010 at 11:48 am
Amelia says:

I found you through twitter- you are fearless- and you have given to the world more than perhaps you know One day at a time

Just for today: I will be un-afraid.
Especially I will not be afraid to enjoy what
is beautiful,and to believe that as I give to the
world, so the world will give back to me.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:52 am
Joy says:

Well done, Maggie. Well done.

January 29th, 2010 at 11:53 am
Ann says:

So thankful for a shared moment in a teeny tiny lazyboy.

So thankful for a year of friendship that gave us that opening.

So thankful for Heather.

Beyond thankful that you took that momentum that was surging through you and placed it on THIS track, instead of in the familiar and infinite loop.

So grateful you have so many loving arms, and forgive me for saying fuck those other ones.

LOVE YOU.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:06 pm
Trenches of Mommyhood says:

Honored to “know” you through your gorgeous writing here and amazed at your courage. Thinking of you and cheering you on from my own little corner of the world.
Sarahviz

January 29th, 2010 at 12:06 pm
merlotmom says:

That was very brave, Maggie. Your honesty and strength will help you a great deal. I wish you the best in your battle.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:14 pm
Mary says:

Dude. 10 years sober TODAY. I am rooting for you and you can email me any time if you want to talk. xoxo

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:13 pm
Mary! Happy soberversary. I will take you up on that offer.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:15 pm
Melodie says:

Wow. Today I decided to try to find blogs belonging to people living with alcoholism, either their own or a loved one. I need to understand it bette. My husband is an alcoholic and I don’t get it. I’ve been going to Al Anon for 6 weeks now and looking for this. Looking to understand. Thank you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:14 pm
Your husband is lucky to have you. I know it can’t be easy but the fact that you’re trying to understand him is such a gift. I hope you’re taking good care of you, too. Thank you for this.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:17 pm
Maria says:

Maggie,
I am so proud of you. Good job for facing this. You are a wonderful mother, wife, person, and have been given so many blessings.

I know that you have fought battles in the past, and this is no different. It will be a struggle, a daily temptation and I know you can fight it.

This has been a big step. Going public with something so personal. I commend you for that. But you once went public with another problem, and it helped me so much, so I can only hope someone else could live vicariously through you, and your situation can inspire someone else to choose life above addiction.

I wish you the best, I hope for your success.

With much love,
Maria

January 29th, 2010 at 12:24 pm
amanda says:

i have adored you from afar. was giddy over meeting you over cupcakes. and now this? lots of love friend. lots and lots of love.

you and heather? together and alone. powerful. so very powerful.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:25 pm
Reagan says:

So proud of you. And you are the best person, best writer, to give a voice to this.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:29 pm
pgoodness says:

So proud of you. Admitting you are powerless is definitely the first step. My brother is an alcoholic – 18 years sober – so I know, through him, though going through treatment as a family, through AA….and I am so proud of you.

And yes, you need to talk about it…that is what gives you your power back. Talk and write all you want – we’re all here for you. xoxox

January 29th, 2010 at 12:43 pm
Jennifer says:

Best of luck in your sobriety adventures. It’s brave of you to be public about it. Also needed. You know better than most the need to own it.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:53 pm
Beth says:

I’m so very proud of you!

This is so hard, but you’ve done this and you’ll continue doing it one day at a time.

January 29th, 2010 at 12:58 pm
Jay Schryer says:

I’m so honored to know you, so proud to consider you my friend. Your strength and courage have always been amazing to me, but never so much as they are now. You’re one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met, and I marvel at your beauty, power, and conviction. You are simply awesome.

January 29th, 2010 at 1:04 pm
Debbie in Memphis says:

Thank you. Thank you for your courage, your spirit, your words, and your honesty. Thank you for sharing your journey with us, for being a light on a path full of unknown valleys which culminate in a bright, beautiful future.

January 29th, 2010 at 1:11 pm
Zak says:

Love to you, momma.

January 29th, 2010 at 1:11 pm
MommyTime says:

Congratulations on that most enormous of first steps, and for sticking to it, and talking/writing about it, and battering down the demons through your words. This is wonderful.

January 29th, 2010 at 1:31 pm
Orange says:

I wonder if my dad had similar private thoughts, similar self-recriminations. He drank until age 61, when he finally summoned up the courage to quit. He died two weeks later (heart disease).

What a tremendous gift you have given yourself, Maggie, to begin to grapple with your drinking at a much younger age, when your daughter is young, when you have decades of life ahead of you. My dad’s eldest grandchild was about 5 when he died, and his children and grandchildren never had the opportunity to really know him as a great guy who used to drink, but quit. That’s tremendously sad.

You and I don’t know each other at all, but you have my warmest wishes for a healthy, sober future. I’m sure it won’t be easy, but my god, it beats the hell out of drinking and being sad your whole life, doesn’t it?

And? That is some ferocious sober writing there, Maggie. You sure don’t need alcohol to write.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:15 pm
I’m so sorry for your dad, for you, for your loss, for the wasted years. Thank you for the gift of your perspective.

January 29th, 2010 at 1:31 pm
katdish says:

I don’t know you at all, but I appreciate you standing up to this and refusing to apologize for who you are. Your strength is infectious and the world needs more Maggies. Keep fighting. Be strong. (But I don’t need to tell you that, now do I?)

January 29th, 2010 at 1:39 pm
amber says:

Never apologize, Maggie. You are strong, you are brave and you’re setting a damn good example for the rest of the community.

January 29th, 2010 at 2:05 pm
Kim (frogpondsrock) says:

Hi Maggie,I am Australian and we are a nation of drinkers. I stopped drinking in 2008. I don’t miss drinking, I dont crave alcohol at all but I know that if I even have one little sip I will drink to oblivion again. So I tell people that I have finished drinking, that I have drunk my quota for this life.

I wrote about it here http://frogpondsrock.com/2009/07/i-drink-alone/

I look back now and I feel the weight of all the time I wasted drinking. I thought I couldn’t create without drinking, couldn’t write without drinking, couldn’t be without drinking. I felt that I needed that first drink to get the creative juices flowing and that I was justified because “hey look at all these creative people they all use something”

Gah, what a crock of shit alcohol is. I have now done my best work sober.

All the best Maggie, Welcome to your real life. xox Kim

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:17 pm
Ah, Kim, you’ve spoken my heart. And I often think of Wisconsin as a nation of drinkers.

Thanks for sharing your post.

January 29th, 2010 at 2:19 pm
Aunt Becky says:

Proud of you. So proud of you. It’s hard, but you can do it.

January 29th, 2010 at 2:23 pm
Sarah says:

Hi Maggie,

We don’t know one another directly, but indirectly through a lot of the blogosphere. I’m BFF’s with Cecily, for one thing.

I want to congratulate you for taking this first step and let you know by my example that you can do this. I am a recovering addict/alcoholic for over 14 years now. This life is a gift, a true miracle. The best thing about sobriety? Everything and anything is possible to you. Stay drunk, and there are only three options: jail, institution, or death.

We are all over. Get a good support group of meetings and a good group of sober women to help carry you along. One day at a time, things get better. Life will be more amazing than you can imagine right now, I promise.

January 29th, 2010 at 2:30 pm
Corinne says:

I know I emailed you already… but I just keep coming back and rereading.
Thank you. You brave, and strong, and you are helping so many by posting. Love to you

January 29th, 2010 at 2:50 pm
seekingclarav says:

I already commented to you on Baby on Bored DDFridays, please forgive my redundancy. Your words are strike at me. The paragraph about alcohol being your best friend and whispering to you, etc…well that just made me straight up cry. I so feel you on that.

I am you and you are me. And we are okay now.

January 29th, 2010 at 2:54 pm
trinity67 says:

It’s so hard to confront your shit so I admire you for having the courage, to do so.

Thanks for speaking your truth because it makes it easier for me to speak mine.

January 29th, 2010 at 3:03 pm
Catherine says:

Maggie,
I’m cheering for you! Everyone deserves a voice. Great job speaking up and out towards the light.
Be well.
Catherine

January 29th, 2010 at 3:04 pm
mommymae says:

as the daughter of an alcoholic, i can say with certainty that your daughters love you so much for this. they may not know about it. if they do, they may be confused by it, but when they grow up, they will be so happy to have you. my dad is 71 and only 6 years sober. i wish i had all the time with him that your girls will now have with you.

you are so very brave and loved and i’m so happy for you.

January 29th, 2010 at 3:09 pm
moosh in indy. says:

I read this first this morning and throughout the day I have seen it mentioned at least two dozen times in a dozen different places.
You’re helping people.
Inspiring people.
And I’m proud to be in your midst.

January 29th, 2010 at 3:13 pm
maggie, dammit says:

I’m just so bowled over by this. I really wish you knew, I really wish I could tell you what this all means to me.

For the first time I was unable to make it to an AA meeting today because my car started on fire (heh. Seriously.) But I feel good, I feel OK, because this whole thing feels like the best meeting ever.

Thank you all for being here. I mean it, dammit.

January 29th, 2010 at 3:31 pm
Erin says:

Just like after reading Heather’s post, I am proud and amazed and in awe. You are a warrior, Maggie.

January 29th, 2010 at 3:35 pm
Heidi says:

Maggie, you are very brave, and strong and although I don’t really KNOW you, I am supportive of you. I pray everyday that someone in my life that is struggling will one day be 9 days sober. I don’t think it will happen, and I know I can’t make it happen, but I pray that she gets the same strength that you have.

January 29th, 2010 at 4:19 pm
Mojo,NC,USA says:

Well dammit, you finally did it. When you told me, I said I was proud enough to cry. And now I am. Because this has got to be the most beautiful First Step I ever heard. And you know what? You know what you’re gonna find out? You’re gonna find out that we love you just as much sober. You’re gonna find out that you’re just as interesting, just as talented, just as beautiful and every bit as special as you always were. Because your dearest darkest friend never gave you that. You always had it.

You always had it.

And if you ever find yourself doubting that, you’ve got my number. Use it.

Now if you’ll excuse me I got somethin’ in my eyes.

January 29th, 2010 at 4:54 pm
Undomestic Diva says:

I’ve always admired you and your writing; been inspired by your prose and your imagery. Now, I’m an even bigger fan, in awe of your strength, courage and bravery. You are an amazing woman.

January 29th, 2010 at 4:59 pm
Robin says:

Although I always feel like I’m expressing something as popular as “welcome to the diabetes ward” or “glad to have you in the lice club,” well, glad to have you. I appreciate your writing and your struggles. Take care, Robin

January 29th, 2010 at 5:27 pm
bluepaintred says:

My mother was an alcoholic.

Thank you for doing, for your children, what she would never do for her children.

January 29th, 2010 at 5:41 pm
Rebecca (Ramblings by Reba) says:

Yay, Maggie!

I follow you on Twitter and check out your blog from time to time. So, though we don’t “know” each other well, I’m really proud of you.

January 29th, 2010 at 5:55 pm
nil zed says:

It’s not gonna be easy, but you are strong. You’ve realized this problem exists at a relatively young age. There’s years of clear-headed joy ahead of you. Even if sometimes it’s only the very small joy of knowing you are getting through something hard without the crutch of a drink. That sounds bass-ackwards, I know. But that’s life on this side.

January 29th, 2010 at 5:56 pm
Jenni Williams says:

I don’t know you but I am so proud of you.
I grew up with alcoholic parents, thank you for doing what they still haven’t done.
My fear of turning into them has stopped me from EVER drinking. It’s just not worth the risk.
I can’t imagine how hard it was to push publish today, but from the bottom of my heart THANK YOU. If your words speak to even one other person, you have done something wonderful.
Taking that step nine days ago was the bravest step ever. I hope this awesome community can be your cheering section for every step that follows.

January 29th, 2010 at 6:13 pm
kootnygirl says:

I have to add my voice to the chorus. This is an amazing post, an incredible courage, and I will be joining the masses in sending strength and support to you through cyberspace.

No shame. Only pride (and not at all in the deadly sin kind of way).

January 29th, 2010 at 6:16 pm
Krystyn says:

Congratulations on your nine days. That is great.

I imagine your words are how many, many people feel and they aren’t in the right place that you were in to make this revelation.

In fact, I imagine this is how my dad felt when he stepped into AA for the first time.

Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for being brave.

January 29th, 2010 at 6:16 pm
fidget says:

Powerful

I’m proud of you.

January 29th, 2010 at 6:20 pm
Chantel says:

You are amazing! Thank you for speaking out. Reading this has helped me in ways you’ll never know! Congratulations on 9 days. I have no doubt it will be 10, 11, 12 and so on.

January 29th, 2010 at 6:31 pm
Twenty Four At Heart says:

Your writing is always so beautiful, but never as beautiful as today. Your story has touched so many people. You are so courageous to share it. I wish I could give you a giant hug right now. I’m so proud of you! : )

January 29th, 2010 at 6:36 pm
Aunt Kay says:

How you continue to move me with your words.
You are in my thoughts and prayers.

Love you, K

January 29th, 2010 at 6:55 pm
Rebecca @ Playground Confidential says:

Thank you for your honesty and bravery. Thank you even more for the insight you have given me. It will help me be a better, more patient and loving support to someone in my own life.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:26 pm
Nina says:

Hurray and well done!

There is no shame in speaking out about this, or the journey to the change.

January 29th, 2010 at 7:53 pm
Elaine says:

You and Heather are a couple of very strong women (I came here from her blog). It means a lot that you are both willing to share your heart and soul with us all like this. It doesn’t hurt that you are both amazing writers too.

Of course I’m pulling for you. This is a wonderful thing you are doing for your family, friends and most importantly, YOU.

I only wish a brother of mine had done it years ago. But instead, he continues to not and it hurts us all deeply.

Congrats. Someday you’ll write a post titled Nine YEARS sober. : )

January 29th, 2010 at 7:55 pm
Avitable says:

If I can say it in a non-condescending way, I’m really proud of you, Maggie. This had to be so difficult. XO

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:19 pm
Thanks, Adam. It’s not condescending at all. I think proud is a lovely word. xo

January 29th, 2010 at 8:07 pm
Sarah says:

“I am learning that if there is something that knocks my breath away with fear, then that is exactly the thing I now need to move toward, not away from. That is where this lives.”

And you will confront this thought over and over again. This thought and many of the other thoughts you have written out here. Written for us, but mostly for yourself. It is a hard yet beautiful thing for you to be able to come back to this post and read your own honest words and witness the outpouring of love from your community.

Face yourself. Face your fears. Live your dreams. Your daydreams. Your clear thoughts. Your future.

Embrace the peace that lies steady in waiting within your heart. It is freedom. Not easy to come by, but worth every moment of struggle, every whisper of pain, every notion of incapability.

And keep on talking talking talking and writing writing writing. The days are long, but you can be strong. You will be strong.

Bravo!

January 29th, 2010 at 8:40 pm
janine says:

Dear Maggie,
The only thing more beautiful than your honesty and your words is your beautiful, wonderful and courageous spirit. You have my total love and support. Om Shanti…

January 29th, 2010 at 8:48 pm
cindy w says:

Maggie, I’m so proud of you for talking about this. Alcoholism is pretty firmly entrenched in my family history. In fact, my brother just got his 9 months’ sobriety pin today. It’s getting easier for him to talk about it openly, but I have a feeling that he would relate to a lot of what you wrote here.

I’m so glad that you have such an amazing support system around you. I think that’s probably one of the most vital parts of recovery.

Take care of yourself, lady. You deserve it. xoxo

P.S. I’m taking out the link to my blog because I don’t want to hurt my brother (you know, since the 2nd A is supposed to be Anonymous & all that), but I’m pretty sure you can see my email address & know who I am.

January 29th, 2010 at 8:58 pm
Denise says:

Wow.
Just wow.

I am so moved by the power of your honesty and the beauty of your spirit.

I wish you continued strength and multiplying joy as you continue on this journey. Thank you for opening up about this. Who knows how many others you are helping by doing what you’ve just done.

With gratitude,
Denise

January 29th, 2010 at 9:09 pm
Aimee Greeblemonkey says:

Haven’t had a chance to say this to you directly yet, but I am so proud of you.

And I am absolutely here if you need me.

And I am sorry I tried to use “vaginah” in Words With Friends.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:15 pm
Gus says:

Hurray for you Maggie, I’ve been sober since 1985. I’ve helped many along the way, and I can tell you that you’ve made the most important step and every day you will become stronger.

Also remember that the person most effected by your sobriety is you. If you ever need anyone to talk to please don’t hesitate to call me.

Gus Gustofson

January 29th, 2010 at 9:15 pm
Wendy says:

Awesome! It will be 15 years for me on Valentine’s Day. While I can’t say that it’s always easy, there are more times when I’m so very glad that my dependence has ceased.

And to raise a child in an alcohol free home is a wonderful benefit!

God Bless and I too am here if you ever want someone to talk to.

Wendy

January 29th, 2010 at 9:20 pm
Sierra Black says:

This was my first visit to your blog, and I don’t know what to say beyond thank you. This is a beautiful post – I’m grateful for your candor and your grace with words and feelings. It’s rare to get this intimate a peek into someone’s world as they choose a new direction.

I was really struck by what you said about your words being stuck behind these ones, because that’s exactly how I felt after my rape. I had to write about the rape and its aftermath for *years* until I’d cleared a path for my words to carry on writing about other things.

I guess addiction, like rape, takes your power away and its long slow work to claim it back.

January 29th, 2010 at 9:28 pm
You go, girl. « Slave to the House says:

[...] of them have been folks I read. I say so far, because today, a wonderful woman whom I DO read took an extraordinarily brave step, and I wanted to say I am SO damn proud of [...]

January 29th, 2010 at 9:35 pm
Karen Murphy says:

What a beautiful journey ahead, and this is just the beginning. Scary as hell? Of course. But look. You have friends. You have the strong beautiful Self that decided to choose change.

My only advice? Keep writing about your journey — all of it — with the same vulnerability. The good and the bad. All of it.

January 29th, 2010 at 10:32 pm
Adventures In Babywearing says:

You’re an incredible person, so much good will come of this.

Steph

January 29th, 2010 at 10:52 pm
Melissa says:

Oh, my dear Maggie. I can’t help but smile. I am on Day 5.

And I know, I know all about the freedom combined with the fear, the feeling that you don’t fit the word, and yet you do. And god, how horrible and shameful it was… and all those mornings you woke up saying “hate self.” Hate self, hate self, hate self. Stupid stupid me. For years on end.

It’s why I left blogging in July and tore everything down from my page. It’s why I cut away so much elsewhere.

I was sober for three weeks. And I’m struggling to get it back still. But. Day 5. It’s something.

And Maggie. Day 9. It’s a lot. The clarity you must be feeling. I would love to hear from you if you’d like to email. Perhaps we can help one another? Perhaps.

I love you honey. I have high hopes for you, and *sigh* wishful in-person hugs. ♥

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:21 pm
Day five! (Now day eight!)

That’s incredible, my friend.

Emailing you now.

January 30th, 2010 at 2:11 am
SM says:

Because this is pretty much the only forum where I *haven’t* already said this: I love you, I believe in you, and I’m supporting you from behind all these scenes (especially the real life ones, because I know that’s where you need it more).

Keep on keepin’ on, love.

January 30th, 2010 at 6:45 am
Sheila says:

Congratulations! thank you for your honesty and openness. Your writing always impresses me but this post is easily the best I have read.
Today is exactly 20 months of sobriety for me. It is not easy but it is soooo good. I used Women For Sobriety as AA didn’t work for me but use what works for you.
I have never and probably will never meet you but I am here and praying with and for you.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:22 pm
20 months sounds like a lifetime to me. Thank you for the prayers, and especially for the hope you represent.

January 30th, 2010 at 7:10 am
Jamee says:

Maggie-

I find myself in so many of your words. I never had a terrible rock bottom, no legal troubles, many many nights of laying in bed, hating myself, praying and apologizing.

I have been sober since December 16th. It gets easier and it gets harder.

I’d love for you to read my blog. Many blessings your way—you are brave!

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:23 pm
December 16–that’s fantastic. Thank you for introducing yourself to me in this way. I need all the fellowship I can get to fight this properly.

January 30th, 2010 at 7:18 am
Martin says:

All the best Maggie.

January 30th, 2010 at 7:20 am
Kori says:

I have been saying it in real life for ten years and three months, on my blog for four. funny how much more it means to the world when you are famous, eh?

January 30th, 2010 at 7:28 am
David Levine says:

Wow Maggie, every time I come to OK Fine Dammit, I am blown away. Congratulations on this revelation of yours, and for getting beyond this obstacle before it really caused damage. I bet you’ll find that the clarity becomes as addictive as the alcohol was. ♥

January 30th, 2010 at 8:05 am
glen says:

CONGRATULATIONS MAGGIE!!!!
I have never responded to your blog (though I read it religiously)
I am very proud of your steps and progress and growth with this issue
May you continue to blossom and may you grow even more
You are an AMAZING WOMAN, SPOUSE, MOTHER, FRIEND–I hope this process will help you see how great you really are–who cares what others think–LOVE YOURSELF

January 30th, 2010 at 8:11 am
VDog says:

Love to you, honey.

January 30th, 2010 at 9:17 am
jenn says:

so proud. so honored that you chose to share your story with all of us. We support you. we love you. we get you. I want to hug and squeeze you. I have an alcoholic father, be isnt brave like you, hell he doesnt even function. im so very thankful for you.

January 30th, 2010 at 9:58 am
Scotti says:

I am sitting here in tears. Not because I feel sorry, or bad, but because you are doing something about it. That takes SO much courage and you should be so very proud of yourself! I sure am proud of you for it! Take it a day at a time. You can do it!

January 30th, 2010 at 10:51 am
jo says:

The greatest gift we can give our children is to show them that being vulnerable, honest, true to ourselves, is not to be weak but to be free. I do not know you my friend, but the words you write are more than a blog post. They are a testament that you are working towards accepting the things you cannot change, finding the courage to change the things you can, and trusting that the wisdom will come to know the difference. I pray for you and know that at least for today, you are free.

January 30th, 2010 at 11:11 am
Aubrey says:

I am proud of you.

You know SOBER stands for? Son of a biscuit, everything’s real….

I also have to deal with sobriety, and I think of it that way. Of learning to live in this live consciously, soberly, unafraid.

You are brave, you know…. And I hope you blow off any idiots who take that and use your vulnerable spots against you. You are brave. And not really powerless, though I know what you mean, you have power because you made a decision, you DID something. You took a step.

And you will win. :0) You can email me any time you need to be near someone who understands that sobriety is not just about alcohol, it’s about anything that takes you away from being present and aware in your own life.

Thanks for standing up and taking the chance to speak. You don’t have to be afraid. )

Love.

January 30th, 2010 at 12:18 pm
Hip Mom's Guide says:

Maggie, I can’t imagine how hard this was for you. The admitting it to yourself, the going to AA, the writing of this post. The last however-long-it’s-been since you’ve struggled with the weight of knowing, deep down, that alcohol had you in its grip. It must be hard, and scary, too, and I join all of the others in calling you brave, and fabulous, and in saying there is no shame. You’ve got an awful lot of people in your corner, pulling for you. But, even more importantly, it sounds like you’re pulling for yourself. And thank goodness you are!

January 30th, 2010 at 12:29 pm
sam {temptingmama} says:

I love you. Lots.

January 30th, 2010 at 12:46 pm
Arkie Mama says:

You may feel powerless, but lord, woman, there is so much power in your truth and in your writing. I am awed. And I am rooting for you. xo

January 30th, 2010 at 1:13 pm
Lea says:

love love love love love love

January 30th, 2010 at 1:49 pm
mckay says:

if you believe if fate, i think it brought me to this post today. i spent a bit of the morning loading “recyclables” into my car. mostly wine bottles that i’ve not wanted to look at once they’re empty, and am ashamed to be seen with at the recycling center… even though only i know that i was the sole imbiber, i will still feel the embarrassment. thanks for your bravery and honesty.

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:25 pm
I believe in fate. Email me anytime.

January 30th, 2010 at 2:16 pm
Sock Girl says:

Bless you on this journey Maggie.
(((Hugs)))

January 30th, 2010 at 2:56 pm
Jennifer says:

Thank YOU for saying it to us.
So happy for you and your daughters and the lives you will now have together.

January 30th, 2010 at 3:44 pm
Fancy Feet's husband says:

I’m sure it’s an understatement to say this was a difficulty post to write. Not just because of what you were saying, but in finding a way to say it. Finding a new rhythm amongst unfamiliar thoughts, feelings and awareness. All forcing themselves into your consciousness, like an obnoxious child sitting beside you at your keyboard, asking a million irrelevant questions.

You’re words are a beautiful as ever Maggie. You can cross the fear of losing your voice off the list. Eventually, and probably sooner than you think, that obnoxious little turd sitting beside you will grow up. Her distraction will ebb and her questions will become insightful, honest and captivating. She is your awe. The awe you see in your children but have anesthetized in yourself for so long. Have patience with her. She is precious and worthy to be loved.

Well written and well done Maggie.

January 30th, 2010 at 4:40 pm
Zoeyjane says:

I am so fucking proud of you, I’m willing to swear in your comments. And usually, I’m totally concerned about being too crass.

One day, more lucid, at a time.

Faith and respect and love to you.

January 30th, 2010 at 5:33 pm
heidi says:

I’m sitting here thinking about what I want to say. To say just the right thing. To say that I know what it’s like to muffle, then bury feelings and to one day uncover those feelings. It was years and years ago, but I remember the day by day and all of the steps in between it took to get through. It wasn’t alcoholism, but a way of coping that was harmful in so many ways. I would be lying if I didn’t say there still wasn’t the temptation to return, to go with what you know. But, the pull isn’t as great now. Not even close. It got better. It is better. I hope the same for you. That as you take this day by day, feeling by feeling it will get better. You are so full of courage – to take the necessary steps, to admit, to write and make yourself vulnerable – so, so courageous. And beautiful. It is…you are…beautiful.

(Is it bad that when I saw my husband’s comment to you I noticed his spelling errors?! Terrible, right?? But, I loved what he said. Best of everything to you, Maggie.)

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:27 pm
I loved what he said, too. And what you said. Thank you both, sweet lady.

January 30th, 2010 at 6:14 pm
AmyLK says:

Congratulations on 9 days! do not be ashamed. the disease wins if you are ashamed. take one day at a time and don’t be afraid to ask for help in completing the steps. You will find your higher power to walk beside you on this journey in recovery.

January 30th, 2010 at 6:34 pm
Hope says:

My oldest child was 4 when I sobered up. She is now 26. I didn’t work the steps or attend meetings for most of her growing up years. As a dry drunk I was miserable to live with. Three and a half years ago I nearly relapsed. I became ready to reach out my hand for help, work the steps and do whatever it took to have some serenity.

Admitting you are powerless is a gift of grace. You are blessed.

January 30th, 2010 at 8:36 pm
Beth says:

As so many others have said before me – you continue to amaze. It just increases my respect for you to see you facing this with dignity and grace. Any Judgey McJudgersons can go straight to heck.

I know you’ll beat it. You may slip, you may fall – but I have confidence you’ll beat it. You’re very strong. This proves it.

January 30th, 2010 at 9:04 pm
AuntKat says:

I’ll have to agree that this is one of the most beautifully written 1st steps I’ve ever heard! Congrats and welcome to the world of sobriety! Hang on tight, your on the ride of your life! You know were to find me. Love you much.

January 30th, 2010 at 11:13 pm
AuntKat says:

p.s. “we do not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it”

January 30th, 2010 at 11:18 pm
Erika says:

Maggie,

I want to say the right thing. Most of what I want to say has already been said by others. So I’m here with three words that may or may not fit, but that keep replaying in my mind as I think of you tonight.

You are enough.

When I say these words to you, I’m saying them in that moment when all those thoughts are running through your head, when alcohol attempts to seduce you with her sweet, hot breath and her wicked untruths.

It’s true that you are amazing, courageous, magnificent, brave, strong, inspiring, kind, generous — all of the things that everyone here has said about you are true. For what it’s worth (and maybe you’re thinking, ‘what the hell is she talking about?’), I want to add to this long list that —

you are enough.

Thank you for sharing your secret. Thank you for living your truth. Thank you for being who you are.

What a priceless gift you’ve given yourself. It’s only just beginning.

January 31st, 2010 at 12:57 am
Ellen says:

I just want to say that my respect for you had just orbited into space and exploded with the stars, as I sit staggered by the courage it has taken for you to write this post. I feel awed!

My husband is an alcoholic and I joined AlAnon last September – day by day it is giving me the strength to turn my life around. Syd at I’m Just F.I.N.E. – Recovery in AlAnon is the son/husband of an alcoholic. He is a very wise and eloquent blogger. The journey with AA/AlAnon is intertwined, which was a complete revelation to me.

You are in my thoughts as you as you take your first tentative steps in recovery. Try to take things one day at a time. x

January 31st, 2010 at 4:33 am
Tweets that mention Okay, Fine, Dammit » Nine days sober. -- Topsy.com says:

[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by sam {temptingmama}, sam {temptingmama}, christytj, Kristen Chase, MaggieDammit and others. MaggieDammit said: Hi. *deep breath* ….. So, I'm an alcoholic. http://okayfinedammit.com/2010/01/nine-days-sober/ [...]

January 31st, 2010 at 5:11 am
Linda says:

One day at a time

January 31st, 2010 at 6:09 am
starrlife says:

“that if there is something that knocks my breath away with fear, then that is exactly the thing I now need to move toward, not away from”….
Very proud and happy to know the dark side. You go girl. Lots of wisdom in those 12 little steps.

January 31st, 2010 at 6:51 am
arizaphale says:

Congratulations Maggie. My sister went through this 13 years ago and I struggle with my own excesses regularly. The first step is a huge one.

January 31st, 2010 at 6:52 am
Karen Sugarpants says:

I’m so very proud of you for taking these first steps. xoxoxo

January 31st, 2010 at 7:23 am
Best of this Week’s Web — ChildWild says:

[...] Nine Days Sober: A brave, simple post about fighting off alcoholism and reclaiming one’s power. I read this twice, and can’t stop thinking about it. Maggie’s a great writer, and her other project Violence, UnSilenced is probably saving someone’s life RIGHT NOW. [...]

January 31st, 2010 at 8:02 am
Nat says:

Congratulations. The first step is often the hardest… know that there is help when you need it. You have many friends out in the world now, people who are willing to help.

The Man got sober 6 years ago. That first year was difficult for all involved but I look back now and we are stronger couple for it (something about the power of adversity). I think it’s made us both better people. I’ve also learned that alcoholics aren’t necessarily screaming and beat up the family, as in our case, it was a bit more subtle. It wasn’t one beer, it was a 2-4.

Re: Careers. The Man’s now is a job he loves. It’s as if sobriety has let him focus on what needs to be done. You’ll see that have more friends than you think.

I know you have a lot of support, but if you (or your spouse) need anything please feel to drop me a line.

January 31st, 2010 at 8:09 am
Elaine Brosnan says:

Maggie- New friend here! I am amazed, as everyone else. Nine days must have been so hard to get to. Take comfort: I am post 265. From the time you hit publish people started writing to you an average of approx. every other minute ALL DAY LONG. (til’ 11pm, and one at 2am) We started again at 6:45am Sat. and NEVER STOPPED. Your support system wrote all day and into the night and straight through til sun rise this morning, Sunday. The reason I write all this (we know you are so gratful:)) is because I don’t want you to ever, ever, EVER, forget so many are proud, impressed, overwhelmed with the warrior you are, and are on your side. So that imaginary employer and bully can SUCK IT!
Warmest, Elaine

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:28 pm
What a neat way to look at that, Elaine. Thank you!

January 31st, 2010 at 8:54 am
Caryn says:

Will be rooting for you each step of the way along this journey.

January 31st, 2010 at 10:02 am
Diane (pilateschik) says:

I love you for this!! I love you for bringing it to the forefront!!! This is all about you surviving all over again. I am so proud of you!! You rock so hard that you rain diamonds!! It takes strength to do this. Been through (still going, it never ends) with my hubs. I was an enabler until I broke December 2007. I told him the family or the alcohol. Took him a little while to truly get it together but he is finally embracing it. Not saying there aren’t difficult times, but they are fewer and farther between and not nearly as bad as they were. I LOVE YOU MAGGIE!!!

January 31st, 2010 at 10:50 am
Tanis Miller, RNM says:

Maggie, I’m just reading this now as I’m lost in my own little world of healing and recovery.

I wish you well and am so proud of you for wrestling your demons and helping others along the way.

January 31st, 2010 at 11:06 am
emily says:

Maggie,

So much love for you. Good luck on this next leg.

January 31st, 2010 at 12:05 pm
Kathryn says:

When I got sober, someone told me to hang on to my ass because I was going for a ride. The ride has been worth it. And you are SO worth it.

January 31st, 2010 at 12:14 pm
Hilly says:

This makes me so happy for you. Seriously. I know that is a strange thing to say but you see, I’m a child of alcoholism and have been in recovery from cocaine/smack for 14 years now. So, I get it.

My Dad has 31 years sober. Thirty freaking one! I’ve seen people stand small and admit that they are powerless over their addiction and as soon as those words leave their mouths, I’ve watched them walk tall again.

Walk tall, sister. As tall as you can!

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:29 pm
Wow, Hilly. Thank you for saying that here. Thank you for getting it. Thank you for walking tall. xo

January 31st, 2010 at 12:51 pm
irretrievably broken says:

Deny yourself nothing else–eat whatever you want, sleep whenever you want, read whatever you want, slack however you want. Etc. One day at a time works best when it’s one THING at a time. You’ll make it. And congratulations. I know how you feel right now, and it’s not easy. But it sure feels better than being all fucked up and powerless….

January 31st, 2010 at 1:27 pm
Betsy says:

Bravo! I come from a family riddled with alcoholism, some are in recovery some are not. It is a testament to the human spirit to wake up and move forward in grace.

Bravo!

January 31st, 2010 at 1:32 pm
Her Bad Mother says:

I’ve told you already that you’re a hero. I’m telling you again. This was powerful for me, for reasons that I haven’t quite figured out for myself yet. So thank you.

xoxo

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:29 pm
If you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me, C. xo

January 31st, 2010 at 1:53 pm
EarnestGirl says:

am wordless with awe.
wishing you a blanket woven of of love, support, understanding, courage when yours flags, friends and family and fight strong enough to wrap around yourself with when you feel that other hand on your shoulder.
I will keep yo in my mind, held in the light of the day toward which you are walking so bravely.
well done, well done.

January 31st, 2010 at 2:05 pm
J from Ireland says:

Hi, new to your blog but I just wanted to say, Congratulations on your 9 days sober. I think you are very honest and brave. Well done. I am Irish so my family is riddled with alcoholics. I think you are great and wish you the very best in your recovery.

January 31st, 2010 at 2:36 pm
Liz says:

So many comments. So many, many comments that I can’t imagine that what I have to say matters, but I’ll say it anyway.

Two things:

First, I cannot understand the idea in the blogworld that our bloggers are supposed to share, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Choosing to grace us with your beautiful words should not have to strip your privacy from you. You owe me, us, your readers, nothing that you don’t want to give us. So that said, thank you for your strength to make an admission that is difficult for you. I hope you do so for you, your family, and your real life friends, and for no one else.

Second, you give others a safe place for nothing but unalloyed support over at VU. You deserve all the same support, held to the same standards.

Sending you good luck and congratulations and hugs, from a reader who won’t stop reading.

Liz

January 31st, 2010 at 2:43 pm
Adam says:

Well. I am sitting here reading both your
“coming-out” post and also the heart-felt sentiments sent by the blogging community and I have to say that I’d have never read this had my sis, Meliss, not sent me the link. I am sitting here, BL Golden Wheat close at hand, and I am simply struck with the “well, I’ve been there before” emotions. I’m *still* here. Screw the four arrests and fuck the money lost to the gobbling demon over the years. I’m still here.

It is faaaaaaar from easy to kick that gobbling demon to the curb. He or she or it clings like tar to those afflicted. It’s a disease, sure–I’ve heard it a million times at the meetings and at the rehab center (twice). Disease. Sure. But, though they may say it is, to me, it is *not* like cancer or heart disease. To me, it is a choice. Why anyone (myself definitely included) would choose to live in the shit-besmirched dark along with the mushrooms and the crap by the basement wall, I don’t know. I haven’t the answer. It’s a *disease*, Adam. Sure it is.

The longest I got from the clutches of the demons was 18 months, spurred on, of course, by the blisteringly Good News conveyed to me during my first rehabilitation stay. When I got out of that place–Maplegrove–I was singing the praises of Jesus and His old man, and I greeted every day with the new-found babe eyes of Victory. 18 months is a damned long time. I thought to myself that maybe, just maybe, the stay in Maplegrove turned my thinking around. I was pissed, being sober, but I was also in *control*.

Alcoholism is an insidious disease. It is always there, lurking in the shadows. You must ALWAYS ne aware of that fact. It does not go away; it gets stonger. I know this first-hand.

What you did, opening yourself to the blogosphere, is admirable. One has *got* to admit to him- or herself that the shit cannot go on as it has. One has *got* to surrender, completely.

Our pride gets in our way. We tell ourselves that we “can handle it.” Bullshit. We can’t. We try to fool ourselves into believing that we can, but that is simply a pipe dream, a foolish want. Alcohol is king; alcohol will win every fucking time. It. Just. Will.

Unless we stop giving it the power. Unless we take it out of the fucking equation.

Do I sound pissed off? I do and I am.

I came to your site because my sister emailed me a link. I’m glad I came. The love and support you have received from the minions of Blogland are heart-touching, to say the least. And that is good.

Alcoholism comes in many shapes and sizes. People die from it, sure, but maybe that is a blessed relief. The way it tears at people’s lives? The way it suffocates hopes and dreams? That’s par for the fucking course, ma’am. I’ve thought about this, and I have had time and reason *to* think about this. Alcohol–or any drugs, for that matter–steal from human beings extensively. There is a theft of cognizance, spirtuality, legal good-standing…there is a theft of money, greenbacks, clams, there is a theft of emotional equanimity, there is a loss of hope, of faith and of strength. Eventually, everyone dies from it. Under the Dome of Alcoholism. (That’s for my love.) Anyway, eventually everyone dies from it…unless. And this is the *toughest* part. The “unless” part of the equation. “Unless” is a pretty hefty step. It takes every single God-damned piece of courage that a man or woman holds to mount that Step.

Step One: I admitted to myself that I was powerless over (drug of choice) and that my life had become unmanageable.

And, seriously? Who the hell can manage to live his or her life whilst struggling with Addiction? No. One.

Thanks for writing this. And I hope that the wind is always at your back (though it won’t be) and I hope that your demons stop gibbering in your ear and cupping your breast (though they won’t) and I sincerely hope that you can do what I haven’t been able to do for the last decade (though I tried and I got out of Hell for 18 months, once). I wish you nothing but the best of luck. But”luck” ain’t it. When it comes to conquering (or at least quelling) demons, a shipload of hard work is necessary. “Wet places, wet faces…” blah to the Nth. If someone is dedicated to saving hhis or her life, it truly does not matter where he or she goes. AA is like an addiction; I felt it after three weeks of going to the churches, the meeting halls, the *rooms*. AA may be an addiction (it assuredly is), but it is a *good* addiction.

I sit here, with my BL Golden Wheat within arm’s length, and I applaud you for your balls–ovaries, in this case. Let’s just call it COURAGE, shall we? I applaud you for your courage. It takes a hell of a backbone to embark upon the Journey to the Unknown.

But. Know this: You are *not* alone. There are millions of people in the boat with you. All you have to do is reach out. And you have.

God bless you.

(I know you didn’t sneeze, but God bless you, just the same.)

Fingers up. Peace or victory? You make the call.

(Both.)

maggie, dammit Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 11:54 am
Adam,

This is a helluva comment.

I can’t tell if you have a blog or not but, if I may be so bold, I really think you should.

I’ve read this several times over. I just love it.

Thank you so much for sitting here with me today.

M

Adam Reply:
February 1st, 2010 at 12:57 pm
My absolute pleasure, Maggie. I do have a blog, but I’ve been alcoholically absent from it, recently. There is good writing in there–mostly in Sober 2007 and the first half of ’08–but, even sometimes the bad writing is all right. It is, after all, *writing*–the good comes with the bad. Google “Louie Pit Bull (and Ollie Beagle” if you want to.

All we can give others is support and love. The rest is up to them.

Peace and good luck to you.

January 31st, 2010 at 2:44 pm
Adam says:

You’re also a HELL of a writer. Emotive, tear-jerking…just DAMNED good.

Peace and victory to you, sister.

January 31st, 2010 at 3:13 pm
Sadie says:

Thank you, thank you. You are perfectly inspiring at precisely the right time. Absolutely wonderful.

Love and light,
Sadie

lifeisanoctopus.blogspot.com

January 31st, 2010 at 4:51 pm
maria says:

i am so proud of you. so proud of you beyond words. you are an inspiration to so many people. never ever forget that. i suppose the hardest part is over. i suppose it’s like abuse. the first step. saying it out loud. admitting it to yourself. but you are strong. you are brave. you are so much bigger than this.

and if one day at a time is too much to bear, one hour at a time is OK too. whatever gets you through the day.

you helped me immensely with VU. and if in any way i can help you through this process, i’m always a DM away.

January 31st, 2010 at 5:35 pm
Coco says:

Oh, Maggie. Oh, I am so proud and happy for you, that you have taken this step.

You have held my hand through my stumbling first days, and our stories are so similar. Please, allow me to return the favor.

Sending you much love and hope and a shoulder, anytime.

January 31st, 2010 at 7:19 pm
D says:

Bravo, love. Bravo.

February 1st, 2010 at 5:38 am
Caroline says:

Kudos.

That is all.

February 1st, 2010 at 6:12 am
Jory Des Jardins says:

Maggie, this post is so inspiring to more than you know! Your peers nominated you as BlogHer of the Week, and we quite agree! I did a write up on BlogHer.com.
http://www.blogher.com/blogher-week-maggie-okay-fine-dammit
Thank you for choosing to share your struggle with us. Our prayers and respect are with you.

Jory
writing for Lisa, Elisa, and Jory
BlogHer co-founders

February 1st, 2010 at 8:15 am
Kelly says:

Maggie, all I can think to say is that was amazing – as are you. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

February 1st, 2010 at 8:27 am
LPC says:

Wow. Congratulations. No shame in the telling of courage.

February 1st, 2010 at 8:46 am
Brooke says:

You don’t know me, and I don’t think I’ve ever commented here before…but damn, girl, I’m proud of you.

February 1st, 2010 at 9:50 am
chris/formerlyfun says:

Most secrets are destructive and you have set up a safe place to help other people unload theirs, I’m glad you found a way to open a window on yours. My mom medicated with alcohol when I was in my teens and as a result I have never been much of a drinker but I still understand the impulse and need to moderate anxiety, dull uncomfortable feelings and more. I started seeing a therapist again because so many negative feelings about things from my childhood are bubbling up, probably because I am in a good relationship and feeling safe enough to deal with them. I don’t want to walk around angry or hurt or push feelings down in ways that don’t help me. It takes courage to sit and be uncomfortable going through something like this but you are so far ahead in terms of support and knowledge of yourself. Being an over-thinker and sensitive person can be a bane but it also has it’s upside when you have to dissect what makes you do what you do. Congrats Maggie on taking such an important step to take care of yourself. I know it’s a cliche but the whole airplane speech about putting your oxygen mask on before you help others is still one of my favorite metaphors for taking care of yourself helps you take care of your family. Best of luck to you.

February 1st, 2010 at 10:27 am
maggie, dammit says:

I’m really struggling with the need to thank each of you personally. I really, really want you all to know what every single word here means to me. I don’t know if I’ll get to each of you but if I don’t, I hope you see this. Please see this and know that I am grateful beyond words. So grateful.

February 1st, 2010 at 11:51 am
Debbie says:

Ms. Maggie. I am so proud of you. Had never given a thought to whether you drank or not. I just loved you. Didn’t cross my mind. The only difference now is that I’ll pray for your strength and probably visit more often to cheer you on!

My Mom was an alcoholic. My brother is an alcoholic. I drank with a great deal of consequences and then stopped when my son was about 7. I didn’t want him to see me like I saw my Mom. He never has. If you kick this now? Yours won’t either. There were times I hated my Mom’s drinking, mine and I still don’t care for my brother’s. Never felt any less love for them…well maybe for myself LOL.

My son even told me one day, he was thankful (he was a lot older) he didn’t have a Mom who got drunk because MANY of his friends do. There’s at least one or two in every family. My Mom finally, for at least 10 years before she passed away (not from drinking) quit.

We all have our demons sweetie and our struggles. Our strength comes in many different forms. You have many…

We all just love you to pieces honey chile!!

February 1st, 2010 at 12:45 pm
Sadie at heymamas says:

Wow. As always your writing is beyond incredible. What a gift. I wish the best for you and hope that you are able to conquer the tough road ahead.

I can’t even imagine how hard it will be, but just focus on your daughter and what she needs you to be and hopefully that will give you the strength you need.

Good luck,

Sadie at heyMamas

February 1st, 2010 at 12:47 pm
Liz says:

powerful.courageous.what i feel and think but could never imagine expressing so eloquently. than you for being my voice.
Liz
2 months sober

February 1st, 2010 at 12:57 pm
muskrat says:

You’re totally going to make addiction your little bitch that habitually cowers behind your Wisconsin woodshed. I know it.

I wish to God I’d read an email or blog post or letter like this from my little brother. Or that one could have been written by my dad’s dad, so that he didn’t have to have a shitty childhood. Or my dad’s sister before she drank herself to death. But none of them ever admitted/admits there was/is a problem.

The fact that no one who loves will you have to refer to you in the past tense because of something avoidable and fixable will so be worth any shame or inconvenience you might feel today.

February 1st, 2010 at 1:07 pm
Lisa (Judd) Blanchard says:

You are truly an amazing, strong woman. I hope one day I am able to also set myself free of what haunts me daily. You are my inspiration and I love you for that!

February 1st, 2010 at 1:20 pm
Erika says:

The truth really does set you free….. I recently came out to my readers… not quite as eloquently as you did….

I have 90 days on Wed……

My life is changed…… I’m stoked for you…. ride the pink cloud as long as you can…. don’t turn away from it in fear of thinking you don’t deserve it…

Take care and remember ONE DAY AT A TIME!!!

~Erika

February 1st, 2010 at 1:30 pm
Gwen says:

Maggie, why did I have a premonition this was coming? Don’t know. Just knew.

Love and peace and a spine of steel for this ride, babe.

February 1st, 2010 at 1:47 pm
cryitout! says:

Way to go — what a brave, selfless thing you have done, and I am in your corner all the way. More than two years here and still going strong. You can do this.

All my best,

Mike

February 1st, 2010 at 2:18 pm
Rachael says:

I feel such joy for you right now. This post is wonderful, inpsiring, honest and real. You do so much for others in your life, and I am happy that you’re doing this for yourself and that it’s working so far. You rock!

February 1st, 2010 at 2:27 pm
Postmarc says:

Holy shit, 325 comments and growing—You have an army behind you and this brave, bold scab-ripping decision. Love and support and the whole damn thing for as long as you need it from this guy.

February 1st, 2010 at 2:41 pm
Lisse says:

I just wanted to say that I’ve admired your writing for a very long time and I am rooting for you.

February 1st, 2010 at 3:09 pm
Mel says:

So very very proud of you, Maggie. And very hopeful for you. Also humbled, because I’d slipped right back into “tomorrow is soon enough” and “whoopsie” and “not so bad, you look fine and are hitting your deadlines” and keeping the alkie blog private, but no more.

I’ve been walking around for two weeks with an Antabuse in my pocket, waiting for 10:00 or 11:00 a.m. to hit, allowing at least twelve hours to pass since the last drink so it’s safe to take, but by 9:30 I’ve lost the will and thought “Tomorrow is soon enough, and it sure would be nice …”

Enough. This time, “tomorrow” counts. We all shoulder this burden separately, but it sure does help to know others out there share the had-enoughedness of this.

Best to you. Strength to you. And thanks to you.

February 1st, 2010 at 9:01 pm
Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo says:

as always, you are my hero in every respect.

Love you babe. Always.

February 2nd, 2010 at 2:06 am
ONE CRUSTY MOM-E says:

YOU ARE AWESOME!! I cannot imagine the past 8days but I’m so glad of yonr new normal. I’m new here, by way of another awesome mommy blogger and although I’m a stranger, I wanted to say, YEA! That part about secrets to just your pillow really got me.

Thoughts of you through this “new normal.”

e~

February 2nd, 2010 at 9:21 am
mosey along says:

Another reader-never-comments saying sigh. Thank you for sharing that. And strength and resolve to you.

February 2nd, 2010 at 10:49 am
barb says:

Hi Maggie! I have stopped drinking many times, not really with the thought that I ever need to stop completely, and I’ll still hedge on that. But, among the other things I did today that make me happier (ate healthy stuff, exercised for an hour, wrote a friend, played a board game with my son, who is home sick), I’m not going to drink. It’s one thing in a long string of things that I do for myself. It’s very peaceful to not drink. Time expands, hope expands– I’m less irritable, more optimistic, stronger. What follows is an excerpt from my journal a while ago, in a period when I was not drinking: 10/27/08: “I have come to appreciate this time because being sober means looking forward to EVerything. I’m quite tired right now (5:30am), but I looked forward to this because I have time and peace and space enough in my head to enjoy this morning, this coffee. I look forward to bedtime because I’ll have time to read and the narcotic pull of sleep. There IS boredom, annoyance, and resentment– but there are also these little moments of joy that you miss if you’re hungover. Oh happy day.”
LIfe is so much juicier without the juice. Congratulations on your decision!! Sobriety rocks!

February 2nd, 2010 at 11:54 am
Shieldmaiden1196 says:

Someone has already said what I wanted to say, which is, ‘loved you before, love you now’….admitting who you are, what you need, and what you don’t need is hard and scary, I’ve done it myself, but thank you for letting us in, and letting us love you. Its a good road to travel together.

February 2nd, 2010 at 12:41 pm
moonspun says:

This is beautiful, brave and powerful. Wishing you the strength you need and clearly are finding. My favorite phrase you wrote: “moment of great grace” May you have many more of those on your journey.

February 2nd, 2010 at 2:50 pm
Kouign Aman says:

A profile in courage. Beautiful. thank you.

The journey of a thousand miles beings (and continues) with a single step. And if one stumbles, why one dusts off and starts taking steps again. When you were a baby, you learned to walk, and it changed your world.

I’m wishing you enough stubborness and courage, one minute, one hour, one day at a time.

I’m wishing you joyous thoughts on your pillow, and when you awake.

and on a different note: you’ve got me thinking of all the alcohol etc abuse in my family, which has me crying, which is doing amazing things to help clear my sinus infection, and so I thank you for that as well. You are quite the multitasker.

February 3rd, 2010 at 6:38 am
petunia says:

Maggie,
Thank you for not being ashamed. Just…thank you.

February 3rd, 2010 at 6:48 am
stacy di says:

wow maggie. thank you for your courage.

I love your ‘prophecy of hope’…the picture that you paint is beautiful…

February 3rd, 2010 at 7:29 am
Lori says:

Maggie,

So nice to find you (via Baby on Bored, Stefanie’s site). I love your site, and especially love your writing. This post is amazingly beautiful, because it is you, truthful and honest.

You can do this. You are doing it.
- Lori (47 days sober today)

February 3rd, 2010 at 7:32 am
Pat Coakley says:

“Lit” by Mary Karr, another wildly talented woman with the same disease. You may already have read it. Don’t take it out from the library, buy it. You’ll want to reread parts, maybe keep under your bed to scare the monsters.

February 3rd, 2010 at 7:41 am
Meredith says:

Wow. You are amazing, and I’m so moved by this piece you wrote. I, for one, am glad you wrote it. Congratulations and hold strong!

I overcame a quite different addiction this year, to cigarettes, and at the six-month mark I can say it is absolutely wonderful to be free. I wish you the same freedom.

February 3rd, 2010 at 10:32 am
Jae says:

You are so very brave. And you are in company of more women than you realize. Include me in those women. Tho I’ve never been brave enough to write about it, to detail it, I have been honest with the “real life” folks in my life. Brutally honest. It feels good, doesn’t it? Welcome to the quitters club.

February 3rd, 2010 at 11:16 am
Jay Reatard, Rip Torn, and Me :: The Zero Boss says:

[...] out of drinking. I blogged while drunk, loudly and proudly. I had a good online friend concoct a banner that depicted me sucking back Mike’s Hard Lemonade while I downloaded the world via USB. [...]

February 3rd, 2010 at 1:49 pm
Lara says:

You never fail to touch me. Yet this time, you have touched me even more than usual by the honesty and vulnerability you have laid out for us to share with you.

Thank you for NOT being ashamed of a perceived weakness… but instead, for being proud, as you should be, of a new-found strength.

I don’t know this battle personally, can’t fight it with you or for you from my vantage point, but I can cheer your successes. And every day that you increase that number, I will cheer for you and with you.

February 3rd, 2010 at 3:53 pm
Barbara says:

Your courage and honesty are amazing – I sense a strength in you that will ensure there is no turning back. I discovered your blog through this post and have read and read…your writing is beautiful and gutsy – a kiss and a slap on the face! Thank you for sharing your gift!

February 3rd, 2010 at 4:02 pm
Teri says:

Best wishes to you. I get it. I have confronted my own alchohol abuse, too. Wishing you all the best. Your bravery is admirable and I’m sure will save lives.

February 4th, 2010 at 3:45 am
Mary @ Holy Mackerel says:

You are amazing, and I am so very proud of you. Yes, we all have our silent woes that we keep to ourselves, afraid to speak them in case someone judges us.

Thank you for reminding all of us that who we are is who we are, and the freedom to speak it is what it’s all about.

February 4th, 2010 at 9:00 am
CoCo says:

I admire your bravery and I wish you all the best.

c.

February 4th, 2010 at 10:30 am
Yo is Me says:

i just wanted to say hi again i came back to read the comments and see what was going on… i’m so happy for you.

that sounds so trite and small, but i mean it in such a big way.

February 4th, 2010 at 11:17 am
Chrissy says:

Wow, you know I have been sober for almost 11 years, I don’t think I have ever mentioned it outside the people I am closest too. Too afraid of what people might think, say or do.

Your strength to share this and the responses you’ve gotten has humbled me. I do not need to be ashamed I am in recovery and people will accept me for who I am and love me regardless.

Thank you for sharing…you have helped me tremendously by doing so!

I am also proud of you for sharing!

February 4th, 2010 at 12:05 pm
Today I Celebrate . . . by @kaisermommy for @maggiedammit | Room 704 says:

[...] like a comet in a night sky. I am undone. “I took my last drink nine days ago. I admitted I am powerless over alcohol, and that my life had become unmanageable.” – Maggie [...]

February 4th, 2010 at 12:17 pm
Sobering gifts « Trains, Tutus and Twizzlers says:

[...] days into my sobriety Maggie came out with her truth. And again, I cried. Another gift. These stories are what help. Our truths, showing that we are [...]

February 4th, 2010 at 4:39 pm
The Baker says:

I agree with everyone who has commented on what a wonderful writer you are. Most of the blogs that I read I’ll quickly skim and take my little giggle and move on about my day, but your blog I always wait to read until I have time to sit down with it and really process your words.

This post took me back to my childhood best friend. Her mother was an alcoholic, but only drank at night. It caused my friend so much shame and pain, and I was the only one of her friends that had any idea. You’ve given your daughters the greatest gift you could give them. I think the best gift any of us can give our children is not to show them that we’re perfect, but to show them how we can triumph over adversity.

I wish you nothing but the best and congratulations!

February 4th, 2010 at 5:08 pm
Loralee says:

You are so loved, babe. AND alcoholic or not, everyone can relate to this post in some way. xo

February 4th, 2010 at 8:34 pm
Erin W. / Beatnik Momma says:

Thank you so much for posting this. I REALLY needed to read it. I’ve struggled with addiction and I’m just beginning to write about it. I published an introductory post to my struggle on my blog tonight explaining that my husband sold pot and we lost our daughter to CPS for a year over it, but I did not approach the fact that I am a recovering addict. My drug of choice was meth and I will be celebrating 5 years of sobriety on March 1st.

I wish you the best of luck in your journey towards sober, happy, SERENE living. And I wish you deep rest for now, because it IS exhausting in the beginning. ((hugs)) Thank you so much for your experience, strength and hope. I needed it tonight.

February 4th, 2010 at 9:00 pm
Playground Confidential » Bad-Ass Mothers: Shame and Alcoholism and Us says:

[...] are their stories: Maggie writes at Okay, Fine, Dammit, Heather blogs at The Extraordinary Ordinary, and there’s Corrine at Trains, Tutus and [...]

February 4th, 2010 at 9:05 pm
the mama bird diaries says:

What an incredible brave and beautiful post. Thank you for sharing it with us. xo

February 4th, 2010 at 9:13 pm
S says:

I have followed & read your blog – but never commented in the past – though have thoroughly enjoyed your writing. This, though, I have to comment on.

We too are a family in recovery – my husband in AA – myself in Al-Anon. It is an interesting, crazy, sometimes turbulent journey and worth every single moment. When I look at my kids I know there is hope because of this journey we are taking – I know that they have a better chance of a positive future because of this. My husband takes his first year cake next month – and he has gotten there one day at a time – as have I.

Congratulations for having the courage to speak your truth for all to see. That is HUGE. Well done!

February 5th, 2010 at 12:10 am
Jen says:

Hi maggie, I don’t know you and have only read your blog twice, but I wanted to let you know that I’m proud of you. You’re doing a wonderful thing here. You will help many women.

February 5th, 2010 at 7:33 am
Martin says:

Maggie – Congrats on taking the first steps and for sharing. This must have taken an amazing amount of courage and I hope all your readers can provide a safety net if needed. The thing I love most about your posts is that YOU shine through in your writing, most bloggers hold back, reserve their true feelings, cater to what they think people want to read (myself included) and it takes great bravery to speak from the heart.
I know you can achieve anything you want to.

February 5th, 2010 at 9:53 am
The Mother Tongue says:

I am so, so proud of you for posting this. You own the things you name.

February 5th, 2010 at 1:01 pm
daysgoby says:

My parents were both alcoholics at different times. (My father started on his journey to sobriety when I was in fourth grade, and then when he and my mother divorced, she began to drink)

I can tell you that it is not a fun way to grow up. I am so very, very proud of you for beginning. It is all that you can ask of yourself – a terrible, hard thing – but you can do this. You CAN.

February 5th, 2010 at 8:24 pm
Lorien says:

I have not read your blog before this night but now I will. What an amazing declaration of courage you have made.

Bravo. Bravo. Bravo.

February 5th, 2010 at 11:10 pm
Indigo says:

The hardest by far for me, was uttering those words in my first AA meeting. They stuck like glue in my throat and choked me. I swore that wasn’t me, couldn’t be me, I wasn’t my father. I was an exemplary employee, a great mother and I was killing myself slowly. It took a long time to realize I was trying to drown out the pain of my abusive childhood – hell my life. I had so many different ways to try to kill that little voice of memory that arose louder than ever when I drank.

There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to drown that kind of pain. I finally managed to let those words slip on past my lips, “My name is Indigo and I’m an alcoholic.” I made my first sobriety anniversary a year before I went deaf. There isn’t a day I don’t ponder the miracle of that. I wouldn’t have survived my silence otherwise.

It will be 6 years this April 25th. You get there one day at a time. I’m proud of you. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m here and I’ve been there. There is a whole community of us that give support to one another if you want I’ll let them know you’ve arrived. Some of them live and breathe their sobriety on their blogs, some of us quietly support and are there when you need us. I’m proud of you. More than you know.

Kind of like breaking the silence to the violence, this was breaking the silence to keep you from drowning. (Hugs)Indigo

February 6th, 2010 at 4:37 pm
twitchyfingers says:

Brave, honest and inspiring post. Congratulations.

Its such a relief isn’t it? Not having to plan for the next drink, or plan for getting enough to drink, or becoming so frustrated by the fact that you can’t get a drink. I’ve stumbled and busted a few times and I can tell you that that’s the bit I hate most.

Nine days is an amazing achievement. Every hour is an amazing achievement. Even busting is an achievement when you think of where you’ve come from.

February 7th, 2010 at 3:20 am
Captain Steve says:

Congratulations, Maggie.

February 8th, 2010 at 9:18 am
Elisa @ Globetrotting in Heels says:

You. You never stop amazing me. The courage it took to admit this, the honesty in your post, the grace with which you shared what must have been a hard truth to face and admit and share. You are amazing.

Thank you for not pulling the plug on the blog and disappearing.

Thank you for sharing this, thank you for being such an inspiration to anyone who has ever had to face an ugly truth about themselves or about someone they love, and hopefully the realization that it’s ugly mostly when it’s hidden, and once it;s out in the open, it’s just human. And when faced with courage and grace it’s inspiring.

February 8th, 2010 at 9:28 am
Mr. Chuck says:

Maggie,

Love and respect that is all you will get from me……. Keep up the outstanding work!

Love to you from across the sea

Chuck

February 8th, 2010 at 10:50 am
Missives From Suburbia says:

As the daughter of an alcoholic, I can tell you without doubt that you just gave your daughters the greatest gift you could ever give them. My father lost track of his recovery many times in my life, and while I wasn’t able to forgive him while it was happening–I was too young, too naive, and too ill-informed at the time–we reached a place of comfortable peace before he died. For that peace and quasi-friendship, I am always grateful, and when I look back on my childhood, I am proud of him for getting up every day and waging his inner battle. I know he wasn’t strong enough to do it for himself, and perhaps that’s why he struggled so much, but I’m happy he tried to do it for me.

Maggie, this is brave. Continue to be brave, even if there are days when you don’t feel brave.

February 9th, 2010 at 10:24 am
wn says:

Congratulations….I don’t think this will be easy…but I think that this IS one of the most important things you’ll ever do.

February 9th, 2010 at 12:38 pm
Al_Pal says:

Congratulations to you. I came here from Dawn’s Room 704 post.

You write so beautifully. I think this is a wonderful piece of evidence that you don’t need the siren temptress alcohol to write!

One of my best friends got sober in 10th grade. Another friend of mine got sober in the last couple years.

I wish you strength, fortitude, and perspective, as you make this journey of self-discovery and awakening to be fully present, for yourself and your family.
Blessed Be.

February 9th, 2010 at 3:52 pm
Emily says:

You will continue to inspire.

February 9th, 2010 at 7:50 pm
musingwoman says:

I’m sorry for not commenting sooner. I’ve been away from the Internet for a long while, fighting my own demons.

Just know that I support you.

February 9th, 2010 at 9:09 pm
Kimberly says:

Maggie, I’m grateful for your honesty, your bravery. Because of that, you will survive this. Because of that, you have helped many of us survive and speak out! I’ve suffered and endured, I’ve come face to face with my own addictions (which I struggle with every day) and knowing that you will survive will help me survive. I can’t explain why it is I feel a special place in my heart for you. Yes I can, its because of Violence Unsilenced and your kindness, your gentleness, your extremely giving heart.

I’ve watched my brother struggle through alcoholism and now watched him revere in sobriety.

I only wish the very best for you. All the love and happiness to you.

Kimberly.

February 11th, 2010 at 6:25 am
Laura Lohr : My Beautiful Life says:

Hi Maggie, Congratulations on embarking on such a courageous journey in sobriety. I came across your blog through Blogher and love your honest, beautiful writing. I have been a lurker for a while now.

BTW, I have a little something for you on my blog.

February 11th, 2010 at 11:03 am
Steenky Bee says:

Maggie; I understand the feeling that many of your cyber friends out there don’t “know” the real you. I feel the same way a liitle more often than I’d like. But I come here now to tell you, from one soul to another, I am a soul who wants you to succeed. You are beautiful and brave and will be an inspiration to so many faces out there.

February 11th, 2010 at 5:50 pm
Lisa @ Crazy Adventures in Parenting says:

You, my dear, are amazing. Gifted. Strong. Brave. And oh, oh so blessed.

I join the ranks of those who are ridiculously proud of you. Those who are here to listen if you need it. I am a child of an alcoholic, recovered for over 25 years. And I’m here for you.

*much love*

February 15th, 2010 at 9:21 am
Meg says:

Add my “you go girl” to the chorus. You CAN do this.

February 17th, 2010 at 12:13 pm
mariah says:

You are so courageous. Good for you Maggie! I wish I could find the inner strength to face my demons

February 23rd, 2010 at 8:48 am
erin says:

Maggie, I saw this a while back and came tonight to read and to stand here for a minute and say, wow, strong woman.

all my best,
erin
xo

February 25th, 2010 at 5:52 pm

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