Like everyone, he had this right of self determination. Spano had honored every word of his inner contract. I do not deserve wellness, so I return to what I deserve.” I do not love myself enough to allow you to take care of me. I do not love myself enough to take care of myself. Because I am afraid, I cannot be here, sober. I cannot endure the pain of facing my life. I am not healthy and cannot commit to healing. What was so terrible to face that death would be preferable? How might his inner contract read that he would be consumed with such a compulsion? I wondered what it must have felt like for him, without the haze of intoxication to blur the relationship between himself and the truth. Spano who, once he’d learned that he wasn’t going to die that afternoon, found the prospect of remaining in the hospital so unsettling that he preferred to hobble out on a bloated, red leg and risk dying a few days later, although he wasn’t yet 30.
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