Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 5: The Other Side

  Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 5: 

The Other Side

Today is Sunday, March 7, 2021... And we are 351 days into the "new normal" forced upon the Bourbon household by the Coronavirus pandemic.

That's right... just under a year ago, I went into work only to find that the governor had closed everything... so I went home looked at Lady Bourbon and said "Well, fuck..." Then the serious drinking began. In a few weeks, we put down literally GALLONS of bourbon, wine, and vodka... And even though we tried to remain upbeat and positive - it's not always easy. As a person with Catastrophobia - as described in the blog entry "There are many anxieties... but this one is mine" - I immediately went to "Well, this will end up like 'The Road' or 'The Stand' before it's over!" - and then I began to plan. And then I continued to have massive anxiety... and depression... and fear... and I coped with it by downing more and more alcohol.

Day drinking? Check.

Night time drinking? Check.

Drinks with dinner? Check.

Drink drink drink drink drink... then suffer through nightmares of PTSD and fear over what would happen in the coming months. It was a really good time for the ole Dr. B.

Some time around June... 3 months into the lockdown/pandemic bullshit, I started going back to the VA hospital for treatment. They assigned me a new shrink - she's not very good, but she offers some outside perspective that I wouldn't normally have so that's good. (Example: My need to plan and prepare probably comes from my departure from Iraq. The unit replacing us decided to ignore our hand-off plans when we left. One week later, 8 of them were dead from an IED.) Then I got assigned an actual psychiatrist and not just a therapist... and this one, despite not knowing me from Adam, offered to put me on some antidepressants.

Look - I am normally 100% against being medicated. I've seen too many of my brothers-in-arms be turned into zombies because the VA just throws pills down their throats and sends them on their way. After holding out for 5 months, I called them up and decided to finally take them up on the offer. Drinking and pretending to be okay just wasn't cutting it.

Now, 3 months into these new meds... I feel like a fucking superstar. And not just the drug-induced false thoughts of "I don't care! La la la la!" - I actually recognize the difference in how things are being processed in my brain... I can actually feel myself regaining my sense of self that I once had way back in the "good old days" of the late 90s. Before 9/11. Before leaving home for Iraq... And I love the way it feels now. I love that I no longer feel that weight of doom and gloom bearing down on me over every little thing. I love the fact that these meds are, in fact, helping to rewrite my brain chemistry to be the way it was before the trauma. Before I lost my sense of happiness and light. The Bourbon of yester-year.

I've come out of the long, dark tunnel that I've been walking through for so long. And the other side is wonderfully lit. It is full of luscious green grass, and the sweet smell of flowers and life. The storm clouds are still there in the distance. I can see them. I can still hear the thunder... but I'm enjoying this patch of golden sunshine. It feels like home.

It feels like going home again.

Am I still drinking?

Oh, fuck yes. I'm an alcoholic. I can't just turn that shit off. I do, however, enjoy that I've been drinking less. 1 bottle now lasts the week instead of the weekend. I go to bed almost every night at 10:00 instead of midnight or 1am...

The tunnel I've been in for so long was dark. There were window and open spaces here and there, but every time, I'd head back into the dark. I've had friends along the way for part of the journey. I've had Lady Bourbon walking hand-in-hand through most of this journey... and she got me through the hard parts.

My hope is that this re-found sense of happiness and self-worth will allow me to help others. Maybe I can help Lady Bourbon with her anxieties. Maybe I can just be happy with being me and not give a shit about the rest of the world... Who knows.

I just know that I feel so much better today compared to one year ago.

Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 4: Bibo Ergo Sum

 Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 4: 

Bibo Ergo Sum

The problem with giving up a crutch - be it smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, porn... whatever - is that you HAVE to want to give it up. And therein lies the biggest problem in getting sober/clean.

A year ago (10 months ago) I quit smoking at the start of lockdown. Cold turkey. Just threw them out and haven't smoked a cigarette since then.

And I fucking LOVE to smoke. I mean, seriously - smoking was awesome. I loved lighting up, getting that smell of the tobacco igniting for the first time, and feeling it fill my lungs with the sweet awesomeness of nicotine. But I knew that it was a bad idea. Especially when you see the news about a raspatory illness that is literally killing people all over the world. That made the decision easier for me. As did the lockdown... I no longer spent 2 hours in the car every day. I no longer worked every day with 11 other smokers. I removed those things from my life and BOOM - I quit smoking. 

But as I contemplate sobriety I struggle with the desire to quit as I am a high-functioning alcoholic. 

Drinking is literally a part of my persona. It has become synonymous with who I am as a human being. I chose the name Dr. Bourbon because, well, I fucking love Bourbon. And scotch. And vodka... gin... tequila... The list goes on. I love the taste of them. I love the slow burn. I love the slow, gradual wearing down of the sharp edges as I drink. I love the way I stop concentrating on the problems and just enjoy the moment when I drink.

And I think that is a big part of my problem. I can't enjoy the moment when I have anxiety about fucking EVERYTHING. And when I drink, that anxiety slips away. I stop thinking about work. I stop worrying about my house's problems. I stop thinking about the fucking government and white supremacists... I just simply enjoy being.

This lifestyle... this persona has been a cultivated thing since September of 1996. As a freshman at college I was given a 32 ounce cup of Jack Daniels and Coke by my neighbor... and I took to it like a fish to fucking water.

I, being the grandchild of 4 alcoholics, seemed to have a predisposition for alcohol consumption. We all joked about the Freshman with the tolerance of a Senior. And thus, I stepped into that life willingly.

It hasn't changed since then. I still drink. I still love to drink. I still love the flavor of the various liquors... A good bourbon and a nice scotch are better than most things in life. But now I am cognizant of the health issues I face as one who drinks so much... 

I am constantly dehydrated. I am overweight. I'm probably pre-diabetic... my last visit to the VA said I was actually pretty healthy and my numbers were good, but that I should possibly consider changing my diet before I pass the point of no return.

And so here I am... every morning I wake up, angry at the fact that I drank so much and resigned to going to bed sober! But then, after dinner, I pour a glass and relax. Then another. Then another... Day in, day out.

Lather, rinse, repeat...

I'm now about a month into taking antidepressants. And they help. They do not, however, seem to get along well with the drinking. The medication adds to the dehydration issues which compounds my bruxism (jaw clenching and teeth grinding) and adds to generally feeling like crap because it also makes me constipated.... I know, TMI. But this is my blog so fuck off.

Last night, I went to bed sober. I drank no alcohol. And I am attempting to drink water all day... 

This is day one.

I don't know if there will be multiple day ones, but I'm going to do it.

Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 1

I need to change things. But that's the same shit I've said before. It's the same shit most people above the age of 25 have said countless times as they inch closer to death and see their bodies and their lives move in a direction that, while inevitable, isn't what was wanted.

We all start out invincible in our early adult years. Nothing hurts us. We drink ourselves stupid, sleep 2 hours, and go to work the next morning with water, some Tylenol, and the promise to not drink like that again until next weekend.

As time goes by we start noticing small changes... an extra ache or pain in the knee or ankle. A shoulder that doesn't feel like it used to. We find ourselves asking, "what?" more often simply because we couldn't hear the other person... and then it hits us - we've reached the start of "Middle Aged." The thoughts of death creep in around the edges. You're no longer invincible. You sleep wrong and hurt for 4 days... And we all wake up and say "I need to change." "I need to diet." "I need to correct the path I'm on." "I need to X, Y, and Z." - And you wake up with heartburn or acid reflux wondering, "Is this a heart attack? Am I finally dying?"

And if you haven't hit this point yet - be thankful. If you have hit this point - you have my sympathy.

Now let us add to the mix that I drink. A lot.

Recently I began a personal crusade of sorts to attempt sobriety and make something better of myself. You may remember a similar failed attempt two years ago about wanting to get in shape... also failed. And why is that? Am I lazy? Probably. Am I afraid of failure? Most assuredly.

So - combine those traits, along with an unhealthy predisposition for alcohol abuse and TA DAA! Here we are. Sitting at the edge of my 43rd trip around the sun with an unhealthy amount of weight hanging off my body, a chronic level of dehydration, and probably a list of ailments waiting to happen... and I want to change... again or still. I want something better for myself or my family... but I'll be damned if I know how to do it.

In the last 2 months, I've had a 2-day streak of sobriety. More than once, but still. I can only seem to get about 2 days before the urge to drink creeps in and takes over. I say, "Oh, just one." Then I look down and realize I'm on my 4th and the bottle is almost empty. I am a high-functioning alcoholic with PTSD and depression - and sometimes I really hate that I am aware of this. It'd be better to be blissfully ignorant of this fact, but let's face it, it's pretty obvious. 

And I just want to change... 

Fuck, if I was a religious man, this would be where I break down and pray to Jesus, Buddha, Allah, and Vishnu to step in and make it all better.

If this was a Hallmark movie, I'd drink myself into a coma, wake up and have a heart-to-heart with the doctor/shrink/pastor and come home to a celebration of sobriety at the house with my friends and family... 

But I'm not religious and this isn't hallmark... and if I had friends, they'd be alcoholics too. Instead, I just get to whine on the internet and have long, introspective thoughts while I sit in the house waiting for the kids to go to bed so I can drink again before going to sleep and waking up for another day of the exact. same. fucking. thing.

I did the math... Lady Bourbon and I spent over $3,000 on alcohol in 2020. Granted it WAS 2020 and the drinking was a bit more liberal from March through July... but that still seems to be a lot.

So, yeah. There ya go. My first blog post in a while... the first of any writing I've done since February... I'm calling this "Part 1" because I plan of there being a series of these as I navigate the waters of being in my 40s and trying to not die from drinking myself to death.

I quit smoking overnight. Just put them down and have never looked back... I still want one from time to time, but that's not the same thing. It's easier to quit being at home with no other smokers in or around me... I assume drinking would be the same. But we like to drink. The friendships I DO have locally revolve around gathering and drinking... So, not the best group to go to for sobriety help. My family - HA! They are of the mindset of "Well, just stop." - They do not grasp addiction and mental health as well as you might think. And Lady Bourbon's family thinks that mental health is a dirty word developed by Satan to turn people away from Catholicism... 

I'm not really sure what I'm saying anymore. I've written more than I planned to today and I'm no better off than I was 2 hours and 5 failed starts ago... My kids are currently running wild through the house and I need to go reign them in... they're supposed to be folding laundry.

Farewell for now, internet. See you when I see you.

-Dr. B

Surf's up! We're riding the anxiety wave!

I know that I am not alone when it comes to being an anxiety-ridden ball of... something for the last few months, so this isn't something uniquely mine. But hear me out...

The last few months have been like riding a giant wave, in a storm. I'm waiting for it to crash down on top of me, or shoot me out the end into calm, blue seas...... and NEITHER of those are fucking happening.

To help me deal with stress and anxiety, I plan. I plan and make plans and then do backup plans... it's one of my little quirks that, thankfully, Lady Bourbon finds amusing... or tolerable. When COVID hit, I planned food. I planned supplies. I planned on how to keep us all indoors and possibly sane. It worked. It gave me something to do for a while. 

But now... fuck me, man.

Half the country is going on like it's not a thing, the other half is still locked in their homes waiting... and I don't know how to plan for that. My kids are supposed to be going back to school in like, what? 3 weeks? Do I send them? Do I keep them home? Do I burn down the school and make it less of an option?! (please note: I would never actually burn down the school unless we were invaded and the invading army was using it as their base of operations... then I'd light that bitch up.) 

Seriously... I'm at the end of my fucking rope on what to do here. Lady Bourbon and I have stayed up many nights talking about what to do and when we start these conversations, and there are too many variables. My brain just starts going, "eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE." And I sort of black out for a minute.

Then we have "The country" and all its woes... and there are a lot of fucking woes, my friends. We have civil unrest across the board. We have white supremacy on the rise in many areas. Our "leadership" uses openly hostile words, tactics, and rhetoric against our own people and, deep down, I fear we're heading for something bad. And by "bad" I mean anything from armed conflict to massive economic collapse.

So I plan. I planned food, again. I planned money. I planned protection. I planned how to keep me and mine safe and protect in case of the worst-case scenario. It worked and gave me something to do for a while. 

But now... fuck me, man. 

Half the country is still rioting to one extent or another, the other half is on Facebook complaining about or congratulating the first half. Cops are bagging people in the streets, rioters are breaking stuff and pulling down statues... and the online fights are just as awful and nowhere is safe... meaning there is no online refuge. Everyone is an opinion-having monster with no love for anyone. Lady Bourbon and I have stayed up many nights talking about what to do and when we start these conversations, and there are too many variables. So my brain starts going, "eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE." And I sort of black out for a minute.

And there is my problem... I can only plan so much. At some point, I run out of things to plan and prepare for and I am left feeling the weight of all that anxiety... and man, it sucks. You've probably seen my posts on Bug Out Bags and the like. That's what I've been doing for the last 2 months. 

I need something to happen or I need it all to go away... I can't keep up this level of anxiety and planning day-in and day-out without some sort of payoff one way or the other. Like I said before, I'm trying to surf this wave. I'm still surfing this wave... I'm still waiting for something bad to happen and all of this planning to be worthwhile... or I'll pop out of that tube and find myself in the clear again.

The only good thing to come out of ALL of this - aside from leaving my miserable job with Debbie - is that I now have wonderfully stocked first aid kits. I can treat anything from a kids' tiny boo-boo all the way up to a 9" gash down your forearm that needs compression bandages and staples.... And as fucking cool as that is, it's still not the same as just being calm and going on about my day. 

I'm beginning to not know how to handle all of this shit. I'm running out of plans to be made... You can't plan for everything and there are WAY too many possibilities out there that could happen. I guess I could enhance my "oh, sweet Jesus, it's the end of days" plan... or my "North Korea just launched an EMP at the Midwest" plan... but then those plans cost a lot of money, man. I'm not ready to turn my garage into a Faraday cage just yet.... 

I'm not really sure what the point of this post was. I think I just needed a distraction and to put some stuff down on "paper" per se.  Maybe I'm hoping someone will comment and give me something to think about and talk... Maybe I should just write more and take my mind off it all. Maybe I need to finish my post apocalyptic novel I started in 2005... It's just that this is all messing with my sense of reality. My sense of how things SHOULD be. Now, I think abut how things COULD become and it bothers me...

Ah well... How are you dealing with this? Bug out bags and spare food? Books and coffee? Smoke and a pancake? 

Dr. Bourbon and the League of ANNOYING-ASS PEOPLE!

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from Twitter user, @HeartOfAutumn

She asks:

Dear Doctor Bourbon,

How do you deal with annoying people? Which, to be honest is a vast majority...

And now... a serious(ish) post...

Alcohol... The sweet nectar of the gods...


I like drinking. It's an important aspect of my life. It's one of those things where I would do it all day, every day, if I wouldn't, you know, die in a month from dehydration and liver failure.

Not going to lie - I am a huge fan of bourbon, scotch, top-shelf tequila, rum, vodka, gin, bourbon again, and beer... But the problem is that alcohol is basically a 4th Macro in the grand "weight-loss" and "healthy" aspect of living and you can't really do "diet and exercise" if you're pissing it all away by drinking every night.

As far as calories go - per macro that is - you've got the following:

Protein: 4 calories per gram
Carbs: 4 calories per gram
Fat: 9 calories per gram
Alcohol: 7 calories per gram

So - you're looking at 64 calories per ounce roughly.

And you're thinking - well, fuck, that's not too bad. That's only 200 calories or so for a few drinks... And while true - here is the problem: Alcohol will interfere with the body's processing and burning of FAT...  Normally, the liver metabolizes fats, but you drink, alcohol takes preference. The liver breaks down alcohol for energy first, causing a build-up of fatty acids... Thus counteracting all that cool fat-loss stuff you've been working on and then fucking you up.

This makes me sad. Because there are few things better than coming home, having a drink, and chilling out on the couch with Lady Bourbon... and then, potentially, having sex.

But then I see things like this - Reddit User /u/Klamsykrawl gave up alcohol for a year... He lost 53 lbs and claims to feel better than he ever felt before.

And I'm all "Well, fuck, dude. That looks AMAZING! WHY CAN'T I DO THAT??!"

And the answer is: "Because you like drinking, dumbass." And then I'm all "Oh, right... duh."

So - I WANT to be all sexy for Lady Bourbon when we hit our 10th anniversary. I WANT to not die by the age of 45. I WANT to see my kids graduate high school and college... But I am a horrible person and I drink because I have PTSD and a fetish for alcohol. Okay, not a fetish, but a SERIOUS liking of the substance that make putting it down a "less than easy" thing to do for me. Lady Bourbon also likes drinking. And if she's going to watch tv and have a drink, there's not a chance in HELL I can sit there and NOT drink.

But... I am going to try. I am going to try to get back to my post-army days where Lady Bourbon would look at me and start thinking about doing horribly awesome things to my semi-well-sculpted body. It's still sculpted... but it seems that it's sculpted out of Play-Doh these days.

I'm going to get me one of those fancy calorie counter apps, stop drinking my weight in bourbon, eat more sushi, drink more water, have more sex, and do the thing! Or so I am telling myself.

Wish me luck. I suck at following through on long, life-changing ideologies. Last time I did this was when I ran a spartan race. I lost a ton of weight, got super sexy, ran the race... then rediscovered pizza. And, well, here we are. What? I fucking love pizza.

That's it. I'm off to eat vegetables and chicken! I'm going to spend my days asking "WHAT THE FUCK IS A MACRO AND WHY DO I CARE?!?!" I'm going to go from being 6'1"/240 lbs to being 6'1"/and hopefully around 215 lbs? I think that's a good goal. That would put me in the "oh jesus, I want to fuck that guy" category I think...

We shall see.

Check back in like... I don't know... 6 months?

Being a Douchebag on the internet...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from Douchebag Dave on Twitter.

Dave asks:

Dr. BourbonSex,
"What are you doing on my timeline, leftist fucktard?"

Love and kisses,
Douchebag Dave

Dear Dave... Or is it Douchebag Dave? Can I just call you Douchebag?  I think I am just going to call you Douchebag...  Dear Douchebag,

Dr. Bourbon and The Antivaxx Trail...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from B.J. Black

B.J. asks:

Dr. Bourbon Sex... and Coffee:

How should I react when anti-vaxxers ask for advice to keep their kids safe when there is a measles (or other illness that vaccines can prevent) outbreak?

Dear B.J.,

What a good question. Let me tell you - I have no shortage of Anti-Vax people on my Facebook feed, so I've actually had this argument before. And every time it ends with the same thing - me, slamming my head against my desk at the outright stupidity of people who, up until 5 minutes ago, I thought were sane, mildly intelligent people. Okay no... that's not true.

Dr. Bourbon - How Stella Got Her Groove Back...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from "Stella"

She asks:

Dear Doctor Bourbon,

How do I get my libido back? The meds I've been on for the last 10 years have ruined it completely.

Yours truly,
Stella

Dr. Bourbon's Tips For Getting Laid...

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from Twitter User @yodelingsnake

He asks:

Dear Doctor Bourbon,

I struggle with interpreting cues on when it's appropriate to "make the move" on my wife, because I'm socially inept. I'm good at sex! But I don't always get the timing right... Do you have any advice?

Signed,
@YodelingSnake

Dear Mr. Snake,

Dr. Bourbon and The Cleaning Lady

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from the ANONYMOUS "Mommy Issues" via a Twitter DM.

Dear esteemed Dr Bourbon,

I've got mommy issues. I'm pushing 40 and my mother won't let me be a goddamned adult. She goes out of her way to make excuses to come into my house and clean it.
Now, before you go getting all "ooh free cleaning services" know this: my house is clean. It's just not clean ENOUGH. My floors can be mopped, shelves dusted and beds made and she will RE CLEAN over me. I've told her to stop.
My husband has told her to stop. Our small children have told her to stop. But SHE. NEVER. STOPS.

Help a girl out, Dr. B.

love and kisses
"Mommy Issues"

Dear "Mommy Issues,"

Dr. Bourbon On Hookers and Bourbon

Today in Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon our question comes from "Brian" via Twitter. 

Brian writes:

Dear Doctor B,
I enjoy coffee, and sex is pretty great, but I haven't found a bourbon I like yet. What do you recommend I try first?

-Brian (@briancebuhl)

Dear Brian,

Bourbon is best enjoyed naked. Just throwing that out there before we get started...

It's the nectar of the gods. Enjoyed by kings and paupers alike. Don't listen to the Jack Sparrow wannabes out there that are "Oh, Rum is sooo good." Those assholes don't know what's good for them... That's why they all have scurvy and STDs.

Bourbon on the other hand...

Bourbon is like prostitution. You get what you pay for. Do you want to have a good night, but feel rather awful and potentially dirty in the morning? Then $10 will do it for ya!

Dr. Bourbon And The Tale of The Shorn Scrotum

Today we open a new chapter - Bad Advice with Dr. Bourbon.

Our first question comes from "Sir Raven" via Twitter. 

Sir Raven writes:

Dear Dr BS
Every time I shave completely bare I think, "This feel awesome! Why don't I do this more often?"
Then Day 2 rolls around and it's a bumpy, rashy mess of regrowth down there. Seriously I get like one day of smooth fun and then a week of itching and pimply ingrown hairs.

Any advice? 😫😫😫
Raven (@QuothSirRaven)

Raven,

Thanks for reaching out.

Boy do I know what you mean. Your question reminds me of a time back in the army - sometime in 2003 - when I was in the desert and sweating my balls off.

I thought to myself: "Man, this manly mane of hair surrounding my junk is hot and sweaty... and smells like balls. I bet if I shaved it all off, it would be a cool, refreshing change of scenery for a while."