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There comes a point when the very thing you've been using to escape your pain becomes the thing that's destroying you. By twenty-five, I had a fiancé, my own business and a future that, from the outside, looked promising. I was also drinking a bottle of whisky a day and I was running out of reasons to keep living. How do you explain that contradiction? How do you explain having someone who loves you, a business you're capable of running, and the prospect of marriage, yet feel