Zang-A-Tang

This shack, pieced together from bits of discarded junk, has become home. It’s nothing special, but it’s mine—a keg repurposed into a makeshift heater keeps the cold at bay. It’s not much, but it’s better than freezing. Out here in the woods, there’s a quiet—a peace that doesn’t exist anywhere else. Every day is spent walking, no other way to get around, but the long stretches give time to think. Sometimes, that’s all I’ve got.

Two kids are at the center of this world—everything revolves around them. Life hasn’t been kind, though. There’ve been battles with booze, brushes with darkness, and slipping into places I never thought I’d end up. Trouble has followed me like a shadow. But I’m still here, still standing, still trying to figure out what it all means. It often feels like no one hears what’s going on inside, like my thoughts and ideas don’t matter to anyone but me.

But I’m not giving up. Not now. Not yet.

My name is Zane, and life has been a relentless teacher, its lessons harder than I ever bargained for. At 29, I’ve faced struggles that would break many—dark nights, lost battles with the bottle, and time spent in places most people only speak about in whispers. It’s not the life I dreamed of, but here I am, standing at the crossroads of what’s been and what might still be.

Out here, in the woods, I’ve carved out an existence in a shack built from scraps, heated by a makeshift keg, and held together by little more than stubborn will. My legs are my only transport, each step a reminder of the journey I’m on—one that isn’t just about survival but about redemption. With every mile walked, I ask myself the same question: How did I end up here, and how do I climb out of this abyss?

The hardest part? My two kids. They didn’t ask for any of this, but they’re here too, caught in the current of a life I never wanted for them. It’s on me now, on these worn-down shoulders, to give them something better. Each morning, I wake up knowing the fight isn’t just for me—it’s for them. I’ve made my share of mistakes, more than I care to admit, but my kids? They’re my reason to keep going, even when everything seems like it’s crumbling.

This isn’t just a story about struggle. It’s about the fight, the grit it takes to pull yourself out of the darkness. Maybe, in these words, someone will find a piece of themselves—maybe you will. This is Zangatangs. Welcome to my journey.