St. Louis ice and a mother who stole steaks from the grocery store shaped Aaron G. He grew up as the "captain of his own ship," a self-centered kid who used "magic elixirs" like Old English 800 and Mad Dog 2020 to mask a deep fear of disapproval. He lived as a "car drinker," mixing gin and cocaine in an '85 Camaro, eventually hitting a wall of dehydration and 90 pounds of bone at a hospital.
For nine years, he bounced in and out of rooms, convinced he was just a crackhead who could still drink. It took hitting rock bottom—homeless and sleeping on two Ottomans—to finally listen. He found a sponsor who demanded he stop being a "taker" and start stacking chairs. Aaron describes the struggle of the "God suit," the ego that rebuilds itself around year four, leading him to lie on a resume and get escorted off a job. Through a Higher Power and rigid sponsorship, he learned to spell love to his children as T-I-M-E rather than money.
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