Blinders

When your drunk all the time, you lose sight of what your loved ones see you go through every day. Just like the ponies at the track that wear blinders, you have one sole purpose: to strategically get from one drink to the next without distraction.  Most of my excessive drinking was done at home, especially the worse it got.  But on the days that I had to be somewhere, I had already mapped out convenient stops along the way to refresh my beverage of choice and consume most of it in my car. 

One thing that it is important to note is this: I was a lifelong drinker.  So when I did go out to eat or chill at a bar, it was not uncommon for me to go through 12-18 beers at one sitting and be able to walk out like I was sober.  That was just average for me.  At my worst, I would wake up in the morning and finish a six pack for breakfast.  Or I would mix a vodka drink in a 32oz plastic cup, and be on my second one in a matter of minutes. 

However, as a functioning alcoholic, people that do not see you on a daily basis rarely have any inclination as to how bad it really is.  Any addiction is a cause for concern to someone close to you, if they know it IS truly an addiction, but talking to an addict about how much they consume can go in one ear and out the other pretty easily...especially if they are functional throughout the day.  But when you see those words in writing and truly feel what they were or are also feeling...well, then it becomes something different.  For me, it was more of an eye opener as to how bad things really were. 

After losing my job as a collegiate Head Basketball Coach:
“She sat on the couch for six months and drank.  She was not drinking beer though; instead, she was drinking vodka along with other hard liquor.  After six months of that I told her to get off the couch and get a job.  She resented me for making her do it.” 

Once I admitted that I felt like my body was shutting down (at this point, about once a month or so I would be so sick that I wouldn't get out of bed for days at a time...but as soon as I felt better it was right back to drinking): 
“…she began to experience high levels of anxiety and physical illness.  She soon became a person I did not even recognize.  I kept trying to convince her to get some help.  I knew of a therapist who dealt with alcoholism, and I tried to connect them on more than one occasion.  But, she was not ready for help.”

Approximately six months prior to hanging up the bottle:
“(She) was just not getting better, mentally or physically.  She started to miss work regularly, and I would literally drive home from school wondering if I would find her dead or alive.  I was worried that the combination of her physical and mental condition was serious enough to take its ultimate toll on her, or that she just might take her own life.”

Clean and sober:
“(She) has been the biggest inspiration to me, as she has now been sober (with no relapses) for 15 months.  Her internal strength provides the foundation for my will to stay sober.  I also never want to let her down or cause her to relapse. “

Personally, I like the last one the best.

Behind the Laughter

For the last few days, as you have noticed, I have not been blogging.  I was in a funk, as I like to call it, and writing is the last thing I want to do.  Actually, thinking is the last thing I want to do, but you do have to think to be able to write.  It is on these days that I battle depression and typically my mind won't stop thinking about my life's failures.  It can be caused by an array of things, but pretty sure this time around it had to do with taking a hit to my self-esteem...actually several back to back.  I was dealing with feeling completely worthless and un-wanted to a degree.  I didn't sleep, I didn't eat much, I would get irritated easily, and obviously I didn't write.  I had completely shut down.  But all it took to bounce back was a good workout with my barn crew and several e-mail exchanges/text with a good friend and someone who believes in me.

Depression is a pretty devastating thing…it can put you straight on your ass at any given moment.  For me, personally, I describe it as falling into an abyss, where you are surrounded by darkness and can not or are unable to find a way to the surface.  It is a battle that I have fought since childhood and covered up with alcohol, smoking, and lots of laughter...if not laughter at least a few fake smiles here and there.  Now days, and I am not ashamed to admit, that I do take meds to help me out on a daily basis...but they are not fool proof as proven by the last few days.      

As a child, my parents instilled in me a sort of unattainable perfectionism.  The underlying expectation was to be the best at everything all the time, from education, to music, to even the smallest of household chores.  My outlet was Saturday morning cartoons, Scooby-Doo and the Smurfs, where a fantasy land of mistakes and imperfections did exist.  My other means of escape was sports.  My parents did not understand the ins and outs of most sports so the expectations were minimal at best.  It was the only time I was allowed to make mistakes yet still be applauded for the effort.  That sense of perfectionism still drives me today, for better and worse, and can be seen in various ways in my job at work as well as in my new passions of powerlifting and strongman.  Although I do know that being perfect at something is a great stretch of the imagination, I still find myself in search of it.  And failure, although it is to be expected, is not an option.   

While depression is not easy for anyone to admit battling, it is better than to pretend it does not exist. 
To suffer in silence, which I can not claim I have not done before, can lead to the end of all endings.  And, yes, I have faced that too.  But there is and will not be an ending to this story any time soon...unless I get crushed by the 200lb atlas stone that I also battle.

  



My Worst Day Sober

Who ever started the phrase, "my worst day sober is better than my best day drunk" was obviously not a functional alcoholic.  Maybe a holiday binge drinker at best.  Either way, this phrase is completely untrue for me.  Remember, I was a professional when it came to drinking all day, partying till all hours, and living a drunk lifestyle that most people would never admit to...and in my lifetime, I have had some damn good drunk days!  But on the downside of things, there was a "worst day sober"...

Everybody has experienced a “worst” day so far to date.  At some point, each one of us has encountered something that we wish would have never happened, something we wish we could have fixed, changed, or made right.  The loss of a loved one, a divorce, failing to get into college, breaking something dear to you, the spectrum here is endless.  Maybe we don’t regret the experience per say or even desire to fix it, but instead have learned and grown from it.  Or maybe it just remains in the back of our mind, a reminder of what could have been or what once was. 

In my humble opinion, human life is the single greatest thing bestowed on us.  Whatever one believes as to how and why it happens is of no significance here, a case study in religion is better left for…well, not me.  Now for me an utter disregard for human life is nearly incomprehensible.  We are given something so beautiful, a blank canvas to develop and nurture; life is a continuous learning experience, a fascinating growth process both inside and out.  So why would someone even consider bringing an end to it, life that is.  What is so important that takes precedence over living?  It is almost mind numbing to think that anyone would contemplate an abrupt end to their life….…but it happens.

I have never feared death…although I will admit that somewhere along the way I developed a fear of flying.  I live life with the philosophy that the fat lady could sing at any moment, ready or not.  I could walk out of the house right now and get hit by a car.  I have also never sat and contemplated death except when I was forced to read various philosophical views in college.  It will happen soon enough why waste time thinking and worrying about it.  Shit, after some of the things I have done in my life I am sometimes surprised it hasn’t happened already. 

During one of my first sober months, I found myself in MY worst possible scenario.  I became THAT person; the one who contemplates taking THAT step…the permanent solution, the way out, the quick escape.  I had no concern for my own life…zero.  Looking back on that day, I am not even sure what led me to that place mentally, to the single moment in time where I contemplated such a cowardly action.  I do know that I truly believed that I had ruined my life by abusing alcohol and there was nothing left for a failure like me.  There were, what could be considered, external factors that contributed to my mental state, such as fatigue, new medication, a longer than normal day at work.  But none of those should have led me to sitting in my car at the corner store actually attempting to formulate a plan.  Thoughts consumed my mind.  I felt like I had lost all control.  I felt helpless, mentally not physically.  I was overcome by thoughts of how to end my life.  I had an hour of free time, a knife in my car, gun at home, an overpass to jump off less than three miles away, plenty of places…but again one hour to decide and execute and no one to talk me down off the ledge, no pun intended.

It appeared as though today was my day…the fat lady was warming up and there was nothing I could do.  I could not put a thought in my head other than the end.  My mind was a runaway train careening off the track.  I had never experienced such an overwhelming feeling and sure as hell didn’t know how to stop something I could not gain control over.  I sat and cried because I had failed…at life and the process of living it was no longer a concern.  Undecided on an action to take or a plan to follow, I noticed through my tears that my free hour was up. I started the car and headed home to change for a concert that evening.  I was mentally exhausted but all of the sudden it was over.  I was able to refocus all my negative thoughts and concentrate on the present, what I needed to do and where I had to be.  I had successfully survived, literally, the worst hour of my life.  All those thoughts gone in a moment’s notice…with a sincere hope they do not ever return. 

The problem I now face…I felt no fear.  It is a piece of the puzzle I had hoped to never find…more or less hoping that it would be lost forever.  Usually thoughts that even remotely resemble these scare me to death, but for the first time I did not blink at the thought of taking my own life.  I don’t really know what turned that switch on and besides a deadline of sorts; I do not know how it turned off so abruptly.  Now I wait…will the fearlessness, that has only begun to exist, and lack of concern for human life reappear like two trains in a head on collision or will they simply fade away.