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Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

07 March, 2021

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.

06 February, 2021

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.

30 April, 2020

What about Bob? Getting ready for Sh*t to hit the fan!

Hello, loyal readers! I'm back! Well, sort of - I never actually left. I've just been busy and haven't updated this blog since fucking JANUARY...

There is a LOT going on in the news these days and a lot of people are throwing out a lot of random terms and paranoia... including, but not limited to civil war, social unrest, economic collapse... you name it, and someone somewhere has said it in the last 60 days.

So today, we're going to talk about Bob - Your potentially life-saving new best friend. Bob stands for Bug Out Bag - and, for those who don't know, a Bug Out Bag is a bag that you keep packed and ready to go by the door, or someplace easily accessible, in case of the worst-case scenario where Shit hits the fan (SHTF) and you need to get the fuck out of town - GTFO.

Not mine - but similar enough for this blog post... 

Now, keep in mind that this is not your "prepper" stash. This isn't the things you have in the bunker to see you through the first 11 weeks of the zombie plague... no no. This is the "We need to GTFO right now and we don't have time to pack" bag. This isn't a camping bag or a hiking bag... this is a bag to buy you piece of mind in the worst case scenario of "I need to leave my home right now or potentially die from a thing."

And you need to go into this with that in mind...

04 April, 2019

The Anxiety of Sleep

Sometimes dreams are awesome. Lady Bourbon is a hyper-vivid dreamer with all sorts of cool shit in her dreams... like Voltron. My dreams are not so cool.

It's been a long time since I've had "fun" dreams. My dreams over the last 10 years or so have all been, more or less, real life while I'm sleeping. Which, as you can imagine, sucks balls. And not in the fun "yeah baby, I like the way you do that" way. More of the "I accidentally fell on the vacuum hose and my balls are being sucked into oblivion and I think I'd rather be dead" kind of way.

Last night's dream though... Holy shit. That was a doozy.

I had a dream in which I was driving my car to the hospital. I called them on the phone to let them know I was coming and that I was having a stroke. In the mirror I could see my face slacken and go lifeless and I lost control of the car as I pulled into the hospital lot. Then I dreamed in 3rd person POV for a while and then back to being me as they tried to fix me. This involved them sticking some sort of needle-like probe into my ear and having fluid run through my brain and out the other ear.

It hurt.

14 March, 2019

Date Night... or "How I stopped worrying and learned to love pre-dinner sex"


That's right... I'm 40. I feel old. My body aches and makes noises on its own... I'm not 90... and I'm sure 90 year olds have and love sex too. This isn't a knock on age. I'm not an ageist. I have friends who are aged.

Wait, what?

Right...

I LOVE 2 things... Sex and food. Well, technically I love a lot of things... but I REALLY love sex and food. Not sex WITH food. But eating and getting my fuck on. The problem is - I'm not 20 anymore. Hell, I'm not even 30 anymore. I'm borderline old and not getting any younger. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to eat - both food and Lady Bourbon... But...

There's always a but. And that "but" is that sex is awesome... food is awesome... but sometimes too much food BEFORE sex is NOT awesome.

Let me just lay it out for you.

03 March, 2019

Her father's daughter - short story

It was the wind that bothered her most. It cut through the fabric of her clothing and clawed at her skin beneath. It made her feel the cold all the way to her bones. And she fucking hated being cold.

She wasn't sure why she was out here. Some misplaced sense of moral responsibility? Some life-debt to a man who kept betraying her trust again and again and again... She just couldn't fathom why she stood here, shoulder to shoulder with the three people she'd swore never to see again.

When the coroner moved the sheet and displayed the face, none of that mattered.

Paul's lifeless body looked up, cold, white, and lifeless from the edge of the field. He'd been stripped of every stitch of clothing. Bruises and scrapes marred his body from the neck down. She shook her head slowly from side to side as she looked at him. No, not him... his body. His empty shell of a body. Devoid of a soul now in death as his soul had been devoid of emotion in life. An empty shell that once housed an empty soul.

"Yeah." She finally said. "That's Paul Becker."
"You're sure."
"I'm fucking sure." She said. "Can I go now?"
"Sure." The cop said. "Just leave your info with officer Smith in case we need to reach you."
"Whatever, man."

Kelly turned and walked away. Debbie and Mark turned and walked with her towards their waiting cars. She did not speak as she walked. She thrust her hands deeper into her pockets and willed herself to be warm.

25 October, 2018

Erotic Fiction Thursdays - One Last Time

 Erotic Fiction Thursdays - One Last Time



      Aaron was exhausted. Fifteen hours of backbreaking work today and he could barely stand. His knees ached, his arms ached, and he hoped to be able to sleep tonight, but didn't think that was likely. He entered his home, listening to the groan of the floorboards under his steps. The old farmhouse seemed to protest his presence as he sat at the table and kicked off his boots. Leaning back in the chair, he sighed a weighty sigh full of longing and loss.

      It was one year since his wife's death and he thought that working all day would help him come home, collapse with sleep, and not dwell on her absence in his life. Now he was sad, tired, and he could barely stand. Life sucked for Aaron. The old house was too big for him without Betsy there with him, but he couldn't bring himself to sell it or move. This house felt like her and when he was within its walls, he felt her presence. 

23 October, 2018

What Dreams May Never Come...

Earlier today I posted a list to my Twitter Feed about the things I've wanted to do but fell short of...


These have been my half-assed dreams as an adult. Things I was 100% passionate about for a week or so until I realized I didn't have the time or money to commit to any of them. They are my dead dreams... for now. I will now go into detail on these dreams and why they've all died....


05 October, 2018

Let's Talk About SEX!

Sex...

Sex is the coolest thing ever. And I'm pretty well versed in cool shit. I've traveled all across the world, been in a war, got shot at, driven across the entire United States - like 5 times - and I was stabbed in the face by a pitchfork. What can I say? I like it rough?

Point is - I like sex.

It feels awesome to connect with someone else on such a personal level like that. But here's the strange bit - Out of all of our friends and family, my wife and I are seemingly the only ones who not only LIKE sex, but actively engage in the act on a fairly regular basis.

It's my first day