I’ve gone the distance and I think I am done. Just got back from a night on the town- had a couple scotches in the hotel bar, went to a nice restaurant and had dinner and couple more scotches, went and saw this amazing musician named Catfish Stephenson who played a bunch of J.J. Cale and was magnificent on the slide guitar, then went to a couple more places which meant a couple more scotches, and then finally said to hell with it and came back to the hotel at 1 am. I drank enough to kill most mortals, and I bet I could still drive and am not even drunk.
I think I am going to go to AA and if necessary, rehab. I’ve been a drunk since the first time I had a beer and got stoned with my buddy when I was thirteen years old, and I just can’t do it any more. The first time I drank a few beers and felt that warm embrace as a teen, well, that was it. It’s all been about that since then, but I’m tired of being fat, I’m tired of being worried about my health all day until I have a drink and forget about shit. I’m just tired. I can’t spend anymore time wondering if I am going to die of cirrhosis or die of throat cancer from cigars, cigarettes, and booze like Chris Hitchens. It’s really killing me.
I am a very high functioning alcoholic and have been for years because of my sheer willpower and determination to not make changes, but I knew this time was coming for years. Hell, I almost joined Dean Esmay a decade ago (Dean is a warblogger most of you have never even heard of, but I knew him quite well) when he quit. But I thought I had shit under control. Several years ago, in a drunken late night stupor, I even called Chuck Butcher late night and talked to him, but I didn’t listen to him and I just kept on keeping on.
And in the meantime, I was having anxiety attacks, which we have discussed before at length, and of course, the solution for those is… booze.
But it is to the point now that I do not think I have any choice. My parents and family are worried about me, and I am worried about me. It’s just time, and in the immortal words of Dean Wormer, fat drunk and stupid is no way to go through life.
I’m not sure how I am going to deal with this, or how I am going to approach it. Even on nights where I don’t “drink” drink, I still have one or two, if that makes sense (maintenance drinking, as the other recovering drunks here will tell you).
But I am going to make myself a better person and get this fucking Triple Sized Laphroiag Monkey off my back if it kills me. I know I will relapse, and I know I will fuck up again. But I, for the first time ever, have decided that enough is enough. I just can’t do this anymore. It’s killing me physically and mentally. But I am going to do this shit, and I hope you all, as you have been for the last decade, will stick around and be supportive.
So let me say it here first, as if you all didn’t know it already. My name is John Cole, and I am an alcoholic. And I am going to do what I can to fix it, and I hope you all will help me, because 30 years of behavior is going to be hard to change.
I just can’t do this anymore. I’m too tired, and alone, and scared. Speaking with all the guys from Veterans from Peace this past few days really cleared up a lot of things in my head. And I just need to make the right changes or I am going to drink myself into an early grave. And those guys are great. I felt like I was with my brothers there, even if I don’t agree with everything they are doing, but you know what- they are helping each other cope and I have never met better Americans than this week-end when I talked to those guys. I submitted my application and am going to work to form a chapter in West Virginia.
But most of all, I’m just so fucking tired. I’m tired of being dependent, I’m tired of lying, I’m tired of having to drink to feel ok or have fun or, well, you all know the drill. I can’t do it anymore. I’d rather be dead.
Thanks in advance for your patience. It’s going to be rocky couple of
months decades (if I get my shit together) for me.