Sublime

that the next time she drinks she will be able to drink just enough and no more to find that perfect balance of being buzzed but not falling on her face. And in order to find that ultimate happy spot, an addict will drink just enough—just one more—to perfect that balance. She is almost there, in fact. Perhaps one more drink will add a nice polish t

At best, we were social drinkers, but before we knew it there we were, getting cases of natural wine delivered, joining wine clubs. At first, we felt sinful for splitting a bottle of wine each night (“Is this a lot or is it just us being adults?”), and over time opening two bottles became the norm. For the last few years, I’ve basically had a const

When it came to eating, Hoke had a major problem. He had lost weight the year before, dropping from 205 to 185 pounds, and he wanted to keep it off, but at the same time he was always hungry. He could stick to his diet for two days at most, and then he went overboard on meat and mashed potatoes. With his new teeth, he could chew almost anything.

I once heard a woman at a meeting define alcoholism as a fundamental inability to be honest, not so much with other people but with the self.

I read the book and had my first drink in weeks—a farewell, if you will—but the alcohol hit different, felt joyless, almost like keeping a doctor’s appointment. I looked at my wine and said, “I don’t want to believe in you anymore. I want to believe in something else.” And even if I continued to drink, even if the books weren’t enough and I had to

These were tiny realizations, perceived as the little oddities of others, but they spoke to a quality of spareness in our house, a shying away from things sensual, a certain difficulty with indulgence. I snooped through that bathroom with a combination of longing and disdain, sensing that my family was different and that I wasn’t supposed to want s

My whole sense of reality was tied into the deception, built into the façades. To be honest would have meant dismantling the whole structure, all the assumptions and impressions about myself I’d worked so hard to create: I’m together, in control; I’m the person you want me to be. To tell the truth would have meant disclosing my full self, owning up

The act of consumption itself has become a drug. My patient Chi, a Vietnamese immigrant, got hooked on the cycle