Hank was loath to admit that he’d bitten off more than he could chew. He’d just made Junior Partner at a prestigious law firm and had much to prove. Add to that a ridiculously high mortgage, newborn twin girls, and a wife who is used to the finer finest things in life and you had a recipe for burnout, or worse.
Hank’s upbringing did not lend itself to self-pity. In his father’s words, Real men take responsibility for themselves and their families; they suck it up and keep on keepin’ on. They don’t complain or ask for help. Be a man—a Real Man!
Bottom line: Self-care was for pussies.
So, Hank did what every other man in his family had done throughout the ages. He bore what seemed like a ten-ton boulder on his shoulders and did it with a smile.
For eleven years he managed it. Then one day his wife took the kids and left. The note said she’d grown tired of being alone and had found someone new who would spend time with her and her daughters.
Her daughters.
A few weeks later, Hank was fired from his position at the law firm.
Now what? Hank wondered, as he continued to balance the metaphorical boulder on his shoulders.
It was all he knew.
Ergo, the Ogre 
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