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Holly Randall Writes About Her Vodka Demon


I can be perfectly happy and content with the way things are going, and suddenly this demon takes over my body and demands that I destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for. I’m an anxious passenger as it drives me to the liquor store; I’m desperately trying to persuade myself to stop as it buys wine and vodka; I’m grasping at its sleeves as it pours the burning liquid down my throat; and I’m crying as it stumbles, drunk and blacked out, back to the kitchen for more.

That demon is me, which only drives the guilt and shame deeper. I ask myself why I cannot control the hands that pour the drink, why I cannot control the throat that swallows the drink and why I cannot control the destructive urges that break the hearts of my friends and family.

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