I can completely relate . . . and, I think that the feelings of shame, at least for me, are to do with why I drank too much: those questions! I hate them . . . The way I have been coping with them lately is to talk about one of my hobbies: book making (no, not a BOOKIE, but crafting handmade books), and I lie and say, "I can't even remember what I did yesterday! I'm so busy trying to find more materials to make books from!," etc., and I steer the questions back to them: "nice necklace! where did you find such a cool necklace?!" If people pry, as in keep trying "to find out stuff", I give them a calculating look, that I allow to linger, and say, "It's interesting that you think that is what I want to talk about right now." Stops 'em dead, but they also aren't ever going to be my friend, for sure. Then, though, there's the fallout from "being a *****" that I feel--that shift in the source of my feeling of shame. But at least with THAT one (that source), I can brainstorm ways I could have interacted differently, and I can put the focus on interaction, not on whether I am worthwhile as a person. Not a perfect solution, by any means, but it's better than the loss I used to feel when people get into those kinds of conversations.