A can of beer in the hand of an eight-year-old boy; that was the lesson: men don't cry, they drink. Mike S. grew up in the wreckage of a family defined by unlawful flight and blackout rapes, eventually joining the "largest gang he could find," the U.S.
Army. He spent years destroying his marriage, once leaving a dead dog to rot on a basement floor because he simply did not care. He describes a life of "fluff" and fake sponsorship until a second, harder hit at treatment and the raw honesty of his daughter forced a change.
From the "wet cold" of Germany to the dirt floors of bars, Mike traces the shift from a man who terrified his children to one who stays teachable. He speaks of the brutal reality of the rooms—the suicides and the "blue babies"—and the rigid discipline of a home group. For Mike, sobriety isn't a Hallmark card; it's keeping your yeses and showing up an hour early.
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