A mirror in a basement on Skid Row. Yellow, bloodshot eyes and a tremor in the hand. Keith L. recalls the absurdity of standing before that glass, reading a list of "affirmations" typed out by a psychologist who claimed Keith’s IQ was too high to be an alcoholic. He was told he just needed a better self-image, but as he read that he was a "winner" and a "loving father," he realized he was actually full of crap.
Keith traces the wreckage of a life lived as a "situational atheist," chasing women and calling his own shots until he hit a floor of absolute disgust. He describes the spiritual illness that rots the foundation of a man, leaving him to survive on a loop of insomnia and depression. Through the guidance of a sponsor and the bluntness of old-timers, Keith learned the brutal utility of being wrong. He traded the delusion of being the captain of his soul for a Higher Power and a rebuilt character.
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