PO Box 1980

Two years down the road from the loss of my job, and while still drinking, I was helplessly caught in a trap of loneliness, depression, confusion, self-pity, and fear. I sought help at a mental health center and went there nearly every week. The people there tried to help me, but I believe I was no longer within their reach. Such an overwhelming sense of guilt and hopelessness had overtaken me that when I tried to pray, I could no longer feel the presence of God. I had convinced myself I was insane.