My last drink for the 100+ time

I have been drinking again for a while. I was sober for 7 years, a vegan, worked out and had a certain amount of good health that made getting up earlier in the morning and being more productive i.e. writing jokes, songs, and films. I had been unhappy for quite a while. I blamed my relationship which had taken a turn for the worse. This happens in adult relationships from time to time. A period of malaise where almost nothing seems right or worth doing anymore. If your partner is negative, you will be negative. If you are unhappy, they should be unhappy too. I remember the exact moment when I fell off the wagon. I was in Vegas for one of my best friend’s weddings. I was a groomsman, and at the lowest weight of my adult life. I was doing Keto, and working out regularly. Should have been feeling great, but I wasn’t.

I could not stop thinking about how much my relationship with my fiancee had soured. We were rarely being intimate. She would say obligatory “I Love Yous” that even sounded forced.

I remember going to the bar and getting a beer and a scotch. I thought, just a sip. That’s all. A sip. I could have a sip of the old joy juice and it wouldn’t hurt. I looked at both of them for quite a while. I tried talking myself out of it. I also had the other voice saying, come on man, it’s just a sip. The problem with addiction is that it is never just a sip, just a line, just a pill, or just a cheeseburger. At least for me. I am probably like many of you out there. I usually go all-in on everything. Well, after what seemed an eternity but more likely was 10 mins, I took a sip of both the beer and the scotch. I put them down. Didn’t finish it. Didn’t need to. I knew that the shame that I was feeling needed to be felt in anonymity. I waited till the wedding reception was over, went back to the Hooter’s hotel/Casino and drank at the bar till I felt dizzy and went back to my room.

I felt awful the next day, and told myself, “Alright, back on the wagon.” I went home and once again tried to get back into my routine, Teach, eat, drive, workout, and repeat. It worked for a week until I had an argument with my girl and so I went out and had a few drinks at a bar, came home, and went to bed. She said to me, “You smell like liquor,” and I told her she was crazy. Once again feeling the cowardice that kept me from telling her how unhappy she was making me. How angry I was that she made me drink again. How angry she was that I was eating meat again. How angry I was that she stopped having regular sex with me from the moment that we moved in together. It was all her fault. I also knew that the coward in me was making me not face the fact that none of this was her fault. I didn’t drink because of her, or my mom, or any of the other women that I had perceived done me ill: I drank because I am an alcoholic. I ate meat because that was what she was eating and I wanted her to find me less troublesome. I made bad choices and was never forced into anything. It was a recurring theme in my life. I wanted people to like me, and couldn’t be honest with myself or be the real me. I always felt that the real me was shit.

Fast forward 2 years and we have today. I drank last night. A lot. This morning, I attended a ZOOM AA meeting with a fuzzy hangover and headache. I talked a little. I thanked a little, and I honestly feel as though I can breathe a little easier. I can’t say that I won’t drink again. I don’t want to, but there are no real certainties in this life. I just know that at this moment, I don’t want to. And that is going to be enough for now.

My Story

I was born in a period that was turbulent and troublesome. My parent’s marriage. The middle and more exceptional of three children, I wrote my first joke at 9. “What do you call a mean potato? A dictator.” We laughed and laughed and made a towel into a penis and drank flavor ade. It was a childhood that was a combination of Norman Rockwell and Robert Mapplethorpe.