20 & Out: "That's Your Bread and Butter"

There was no heat. No functional space heaters. All I had was an infant daughter without a clue of what was going on. I was broke. I mean broke. No more money to get me over with credit cards. No cash in the bank. No check coming in for another two weeks. My accounts were in the negative and my pockets had just a few dollars left within their linty seams. Worst part of it all, this was when I had a good paying job by most people's standards, with benefits and a pension plan. I still recall my daughters face snuggled like an Eskimo, fixed with a smile, ready for more playtime, waving her itty-bitty limbs through the thick padding of fabrics I dressed her with, having no understanding of the struggle. Money problems aside, I was at a low on all levels and my issue was much greater than I was. Working through the frustration, I paced around the house thinking of more solutions, finding brick wall after brick wall, stomping my feet. Not just for warmth, but at my failure as a man. I had failed, unable to keep even the simplest of things—like warmth—provided to my newborn daughter. With only so much overtime to go around and debts piling high, it was clear a change had to be made. In no way would the system change to accommodate my circumstance. So there was just one more option. The change had to happen in ME.