My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Friday, November 20, 2015
The Bottom
They realize recovery begins at the bottom but they keep pushing the bottom down so there is always a worse place they might be, a lower point from which to begin over, and until that place is reached they are not yet entitled to begin wellness. It seems another way of punishing themselves and increases that perverse status that derives from being the worst of the worst.
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