I swung the pick into the earth as the odor of alcohol filtered through flesh rose around me like an aura of rotting faith.
My coworker choked a comment, ” The stench of alcohol coming through your pores is awful…”
I took it as a sign that my way wasn’t working… I wondered if I could get any lower. I pondered if I might be able to treat myself any worse. It was a turning point.
In retrospect, after listening to countless horror stories of family drama and perceived parental abuses perhaps I was the one who fortune shone her lights on… No one telling me boring stories of lessons learned, fatherly advice forged in failure…
What’s that light there at the end of that tunnel?