tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12793246.post529082392672718329..comments2008-08-04T15:30:37.823-04:00Recovery Rabbinoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12793246.post-55304633316223584992008-08-04T05:05:00.000-04:002008-08-04T05:05:00.000-04:00Its about time. Too many Chabad houses pump you with liquor to make you smile.<BR/><BR/>I remember one vague day of my drunken life. I was standing in the kitchen of a Chabd House. The liquor cabinet was exploding when I got there. A week later it was almost on empty.<BR/><BR/>I stood in front of the familiar doors below the sink hoping no one would walk through the front door and bust me, but hoping that some one would.<BR/><BR/>I played my life on the drunken screen I created in my head. I cried. I hated it. I lost everything, my family, my home, my car, my indipendane. Everything. I hated myself because I knew myself. I knew I let the wagon go but I tried hard as hell to hide it and deny it. It was one of the times I hit rock bottom. All those thoughts full of self hate were going through my head while I poured another drink and washed some tylenol and motrin down with it so I wouldnt suffer the hang over in the morning.<BR/><BR/>I live a secret , a denial a huge problem that has amounted in many death's in the community that raised me.<BR/><BR/>Is it my fault ? or am I looking for a scapegoat? I dont know.<BR/>All I know is this.<BR/><BR/>My name is Leah Kleim, and I am an addict, totaly sober and shaking while I write this.Leah Kleimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08408333341867280940noreply@blogger.com