Jeanie
I held it together long enough to close the group meeting and then I ran back to my room. I had called the tiny 10x10 bedroom home for more than five years. It was a twin bed, a sagging bookshelf, and a desk hidden under piles of paperwork. It was simple, humble, but I loved it, because it was mine. The salary I pulled in as a counselor at Spring Hill was peanuts, but the work was deeply meaningful and personal.
I was a god counselor because I’d been in the pits of hell myself. I’d found hope and sobriety at Spring Hill, and I counted it a priveledge to help others walk that journey.
But it was time. To be honest, I’d been thinking about leaving for months. In my desk, tucked safely and secretly in one of the drawers, was a business plan that I had written as my final project whe
