November is a special month for me. It’s the month I sobered up.

Nov. 3, 1989, at 2 o’clock in the morning, I was so intoxicated in my own home, I fell through the glass top of my coffee table, cutting myself to smithereens, and almost bled to death.

It was the best thing that ever happened to me. The handwriting was on the wall. I had a serious problem with alcohol and drugs and, what’s more important, I realized I needed help.  I could not quit on my own. I had tried it many times and, always, after a period of sobriety, returned to alcohol.