Hello and welcome back to Sober Awkward, where we're doing something a little bit different.

We started this podcast to share our own messy, awkward and hopefully humorous journeys through

sobriety and have always felt incredibly humbled by how many of you have connected with our

stories. But not everyone's journey is the

same as Vicanise. So we put our heads together to figure out a way to give back and let our

listeners inspire each other. Basically, we're taking us to idiots completely out the equation.

We decided to run a storytelling competition, during which we asked you

to share your own inspirational stories of recovery with us. Well, to be honest, the stories you sent us

completely blew us away. They were powerful, moving and truly inspiring. We knew right away that we had to share them. So, with

the permissions of the storytellers, we're going to be sharing one of their stories with you

each week. This is our way of celebrating you. These are your stories, raw, real and full of hope. Welcome to Sober Stories.

This week, our listener's story is from Kristen. And just as a quick warning, if you've got young ears listening with you, it does tell the story of some sexual abuse.

So please, if that's a trigger for you, feel free to skip

this one. I don't really remember my very first drink, but I do remember watching my parents,

relatives and their friends drinking at family parties and gatherings, and always wondered when

I'd be allowed to drink this magic elixir that seemed to make

everyone happy. My dad let me taste a few sips of his beer when I was a teenager. My mum, her wine.

I don't remember necessarily being grossed out by the taste, but I was intrigued.

One summer, out on the boat, I do remember my uncle discreetly passing me and my

cousin, actually my uncle's girlfriend's daughter, smear nor ice off the side of the boat, while we

floated in our tubes. We chugged them as fast as we could, so my parents and her mum wouldn't

see. I was giddy and excited for more.

...