Alright, so we thought that nothing could get worse with my mangled leg, dead father, and ended the career. Nope. Life always has another curveball. Of course, I caused this one myself. I was always good at curveballs.
I dropped out of college. Or flunked out. Whatever. Either way, I couldn’t even make it through my first year of college so who knows why I ever thought I’d get through college and baseball at once. My dad’s support probably would have changed everything.
I started going to bars every night. My careful control dissipated so quickly it was hard to imagine it had ever been there. I got drunk every night and stumbled home, crashing into bed. I started missing shifts at work too. I wasn’t helping my mom anymore, instead, I was making it harder for her.
She tried to talk about it with me once or twice, but I blew her off. She’d never been a timid woman, but she was broken too and didn’t know what to do with her broken son. We struggled together there for a while.
It escalated from there. I couldn’t function without alcohol. If I slept too long, like twelve hours, I’d wake up needing to puke because my body needed alcohol. It thought it couldn’t function without alcohol and it wasn’t like I told it otherwise.
I was spending much of my paychecks at the bar. I wouldn’t hang out with friends unless they offered me alcohol.
I went from being the friend who was fun to party with to the one no one wanted to hang out with because I’d drink their whole stash without care. The friends started drifting off and I hardly noticed because I was so drunk.
Yeah, as you can see, my life was one big peachy pie.