A personal story that is probably too intimate to share in the recap of a TV show

The finale of "Succession" and the strange relationship of siblings.

When I was 18 years old I went to rehab for an addiction to Ambien and cocaine, a combination on which I had flipped a car into a tree. I had woken up in the ER and the police were there—no one was hurt, thank god, but me, and I was only bruised and scratched—and they wanted to take my blood and breathalyze me but I was coherent enough to refuse that. They told me I’d have my license suspended if I didn’t comply, and, according to the doctors, I promptly handed it to them. But the next morning I woke up and was charged nonetheless with a whole slew of crimes and my lawyer told me that my best way to avoid jail was to go to rehab, so I did. Not a fancy one, mind you! This was a quick “go to the nearest one” situation.