I’m lucky to be here. I should probably be dead. The number
of close calls and second chances I’ve had don’t seem fair. Not everybody gets
more than one wakeup call. I’ve had several.
If I stop to think about all the crazy, scary, senseless
shit I’ve done over the years when I was drunk — wow.
Let’s see, there was the time I drove into a curb at full speed, blew out three
tires and still thought it was ok to drive home — on metal rims. Sparks
everywhere, five miles an hour on a major city street and
somehow thinking everything was going as planned. It didn’t.
There was the night I mouthed off to a group of five
jackoffs in the bar parking lot and got an entire bottom row of teeth
rearranged. That was expensive. Funny how badass you think you are when you’re
wasted. I forgot I wasn’t a fighter. I was reminded with one punch.
Then there are my recent troubles, including my inebriated
freefall down a 15-foot cliff that came to an abrupt stop when my head smashed
into the rocks at the bottom. And my run-in with the law that finds me still
counting the days to full freedom — 10 more to go.
These are just a few of the more memorable moments in the
life of drunk me. There are more, some I have no recollection of. And there are
many other, let's just call them "bad judgment calls," that have taken place over the years under
heavy influence, but no need to talk about those here. I think my mom reads this
blog.
I’ve learned through lots of practice that my biggest problem is a
lack of a shut-off switch. I was always the last man standing. I never wanted to go home. When everybody else was
starting to shut it down, I was just getting started. Nothing ever good happens
after midnight. I don’t know if truer words have ever been spoken.
I know I open myself up to embarrassment, maybe even
some judgment, by sharing this. But it has been an extremely long six months of thinking,
self-evaluating and growing up. I’m proud of the hard work I’ve put in and feel like
I have a story to tell. Maybe it’s a story someone out there might be familiar
with. Maybe my story can help somebody else start to rewrite theirs.
I don’t know if I’ve had my last drink for the rest of my
life. I do miss beer. It's delicious. Maybe someday I’ll get to a place where I can have a few with my
friends, without feeling like I need to take it to the next level. Maybe
someday I’ll have a better idea of where to find my shut-off switch. I’m not
there yet.
JS
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