What happens after you stop drinking? There’s a sense that things are finally clicking. Then, for many people, that feeling starts to fade.

The Super Bowl always ends up feeling bigger than the game itself. It’s the noise, the food, the commercials people actually watch on purpose, the sense that this is one of those nights when half the country is roughly doing the same thing.

It usually doesn’t start at night. It starts earlier — mid-afternoon, when nothing dramatic is happening. You’re answering emails. Wrapping up work. Maybe heading into the school pickup shuffle. And then the thought slides in, casual as anything: I might have a drink later.

Marci Hopkins doesn’t describe her early life as dramatic or unusual at the time — it was simply the environment her nervous system adapted to. “Living in a place of unease was normal for me,” she says. “A lot of that had to do with my upbringing.”

Closing the ten-year treatment gap requires a radical new approach that eliminates stigma and creates a welcoming, approachable front door for anyone who has the inkling they want to change their relationship with alcohol. An approach that meets individuals where they are, rather than assuming (or waiting for) rock bottom.