From the September 2013 magazine.

September 2013: Pillow Fight

I was afraid of my pillow for 20-plus years. It wasn’t a specific pillow that I feared; it was any pillow— the pillow on my bed, a hotel pillow, a pillow on a couch, my forearm or just a wadded up shirt. When I was drinking, it didn’t matter what I was using to prop up my head for sleep. I hated any pillow. If I didn’t pass out, I knew I was in for the dreaded “pillow fight.” Because once my head hit that pillow, my fears became more focused and tangible. I was simply one long blink away from the horrors that waited the next day.

My most excruciating pillow fights occurred Sunday nights. It was now the end of a three- or more-day bender. Tomorrow would bring the physical, mental and spiritual anguish of Monday morning. Could I call in sick? Would I be able to drive? What work mess had I left for myself on Friday? What lies did I have to cover? Is this the final straw with my wife? How much money did I spend? Am I supposed to pick up my son at daycare? How have I let everyone down?

-- Mark S.

Littleton, Colorado

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