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The next morning I was sick from not eating. I was shaking and sweaty and so damn hungry. I went to work and like the previous day I made my way to the church restroom. I ran cold water over my face and stared at the mirror. What I saw was disgusting. I hated myself.

I looked like death. My eyes were buried in the back of my head. My teeth were black. Heck I couldn't remember the last time I brushed them. And my lip was sticking way out. There was no way I could hide that all day and my mind began coming up with all sorts of answers to the questions that would come.

I backed away from the sink and kept looking in the mirror. In the two years since I slipped, I lost some weight. I was down to 155 pounds. To some, that is a pretty good weight. But, I'm 6'4" tall. I was nothing but skin and bones.

As I walked out of the restroom and started unlocking the building, I knew things had to change. I couldn't continue down the road I was on. I had two options, first was to quit drinking. And that idea didn't sound to promising. I was at a point where I couldn't imagine life without alcohol anymore.

The only other option I had was suicide. I started tearing up. My first sobriety started after a suicide attempt. I had come full circle. I started this "experiment" by controlled drinking. I finished it totally defeated.

That morning I didn't want to be around anyone. I figured the best thing to do was work outside. I broke out the equipment to wash the church windows and headed outside. I figured it was a perfect place for me and I wouldn't have to explain my lip to anyone. I could just wallow around in my own pity pot.

I was outside for a couple of hours, really not getting much done, I was to damn hungry and weak. I sat on one of the benches in front of the church and just starred at my feet and the concrete ground. One of the parishioners took a seat next to me. I had known Mel for a couple of years and he was pretty influential not only in the church but also around town. He was an independent businessman, who owned 3-4 gas stations, and was my ex's boss.

He told me that earlier in the week that my ex told him what was going on and that I had no place to stay. I had no answer and just kept looking at the ground. He told me that I could stay in his mobile home behind the gas station about 10 miles from where we were. He went on to say that it had a couch and chair, as well as a refrigerator, stove, and a washer and dryer. He also said, I could live there rent free for a month, then he'd start charging me.

I swallowed my pride and told him thank you. He gave me the keys and left. The rest of the day went by with me still being numb. What did the future hold for me? That night, I went to my new home and didn't have to hide in the dark. I got a frozen pizza to eat and of course some beer and broke in my new pad.

The food and the beer didn't taste good. I had been doing it pretty heavy the last couple of days and all I wanted was a good nights sleep. I had no solution to what was going on... all I knew was that I was sick and tired of being sick and tired...