Clean Getaway

Day 2. Easier than I thought, but then I think that’s part of the problem. I have a very short memory, and once I get a few days/weeks/months in, the unpleasantness fades. I forget the pounding head. I forget the roiling stomach, rigid with anxiety. I forget the swollen tongue, the endless thirst. I forget the sandpaper skin. I forget not showering for a week at a time. I forget waking up every hour to glug down more water. I forget sunken eyes and sadness.

I know I am a compulsive gambler. That’s an easy one. It’s beaten me to the point where I know there’s no beating back; there is only leaving it, slamming the door and not turning back.

But, at this point, I think drinking is more of a habit, and that’s harder. I’m not scared of drinking the way I am scared of gambling.

Gambling is an abusive boyfriend who throws me against a wall, and then I fall to the ground crumpled. It’s easy...