December 31, 1989. A cheap hotel room in Weymouth filled with fast food wrappers and the smell of stale vodka. John M. woke up in the wreckage of a life spent avoiding mirrors because he hated the man looking back. For years, he lived in the bondage of self—an egomaniac with an inferiority complex who felt like a piece of crap while fighting for a reputation he didn't have. He describes a childhood of flying furniture and a father who was a "well-balanced alcoholic," making it impossible to play catch.
From pumping gas to nearly ending it all in a Vermont cemetery, John traces the "spiritual loss of values" that led him to Father Bill’s Place. He speaks of the "veil" between himself and reality, and the Higher Power that interrupted his death. Now, he carries a 24-hour chip and a picture of his daughter, relying on the simplicity of the steps to stay free from the mental prison of his own making.
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