My major drinking problems happened around the time my mother died and my ex wife left me and dragged me across the country. I’m not going to get into detail about that. But I remember sitting in my house alone, it was the first time no one was there. The silence was deafening. My lawyers were dragging their feet, and I thought, Well, no one’s here… why not have a drink? Keep in mind my mother died with complications from liver failure and was in hospice because of her drinking. But when we only focus on the pain, we become selfish. Long story short, at my worst I was still working, but I would drink vodka or rum after work to kill the shakes, and a little before work to kill the shakes again. I’d slam three large tall boys—IPAs, always over 9%—and chase it with a pint of whatever poison I’d picked up from the liquor store. The whole time I was growing weed, smoking weed, extracting and making pounds of edibles every weekend, along with growing shrooms and cooking up a fresh batch every few weeks.
That is now in the not so distant past. Luckily I didn’t do anything stupid. But when I quit, I tried cold turkey. I knew how dangerous it could be, and I ended up in the hospital. But now I’m here.
And yeah, I know some folks might mock me for laying all this out there, but consider this my cautionary message: don’t do what I did. Don’t let the pain, the people, or the circumstances take the wheel and run your life for you. Always stay in the driver’s seat, because it can always get worse if you hand over the keys. Sulking in that dark corner of your own misery? It only breeds more misery. Take the damn wheel, push forward, and build something better, you’ve already proven you can survive the crash.
