Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 6: The Fear of Being Me

Reflections on Depression and Alcohol Abuse Part 6: 

The Fear of Being Me

The world is a strange place... some might even call it fucked up. I know I sure do.

I've been mostly quiet on social media as of late. I've been doing a lot of soul searching as it were. And by soul searching, I guess I really mean getting drunk and contemplating why I am getting drunk.

The answer is simple - I am afraid of who I am going to be when sobriety hits. I'm afraid that being sober will prove to me just how boring I am as a human being.

Drinking every night allows me to not care.

If I'm drinking I get to relax, unwind, and just not give a fuck about what I'm doing and who I am. It's like hitting snooze on reality. I'm able to hit that button and, internally, pretend I'm a youthful twenty-something drinking the night away in my old apartment while watching 'Lost' or 'Stargate SG-1' reruns at midnight...

My kids are young and they know what Bourbon is. They know what beer is. And they know that Daddy drinks one of them with dinner all the time and pretty much any time he's outside...

And that shit needs to stop.

I'm not sure if I can Cold-Turkey that shit... But I need to change. I know I do.

I'm living a life chronically under-hydrated. I wake every night around 2am when the alcohol wears off and my body remembers that the Check Engine light came on months ago. I am grossly out of shape for a man who used to run 5 miles at a 6-minute mile pace.

And there is my goal... to run 5 miles. In one go. Without stopping. Not at a 6-minute pace... but I'd be happy with 8 or 9.

To achieve this goal, I'm going to need to do a few other things before then...

First, I'll need to lose some weight. Right now I'm riding a less-than-healthy 20 extra lbs of swinging Dad-Bod than just over a year ago... and it's not very sexy or conducive to running. I think my knees would literally fucking explode should I try to run in my current shape. This will require a new way of eating. Not eating an entire bag of chips is a good start... as well as smaller portions, more water, less sugar, less chocolate, and more getting up off my ass throughout the day.

Second, I'll need to find time to work out/get up and moving. Right now I work all day, but there is time in there for me to move stuff around. I need 3-4 days a week where I can get out of the house and move. Just move. Walk, jog, hike, bike, and not be a stationary body.

Third, I'll need to curb my drinking. I'm willing to allow myself 1 night... 2 on special occasions to have a drink or unwind. As much as I'd like to go full-on sober... I'm not dumb enough to believe I can.

So - today is April 18, 2021... I will start this week with small, manageable steps. Chicken and rice for lunch... more salads and green, leafy things. Less fried food and pizza... and more water.

Who knows, maybe somewhere down below the layers of alcoholic fog and denial, I might find out that I'm a decent human being with some good, hidden talents. Jesus... I am capable to doing a lot with my current state and I feel like it's driving with the parking brake on. Maybe I'll level up... Maybe I'll blow up. Either way - it could be an interesting journey.

So - Maybe this blog will be less about how much I've been drinking and more about the changes I see in myself. Or maybe I'll just abandon this blog and this persona... leave it behind and forge ahead.

I still love sex, drinking, hentai, sex, more sex, and all the things therein... but Lady Bourbon and I have grown so much in the last 2 years that this persona is no longer needed as the emotional pressure release valve as it used to be...

Who knows.

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.

Dear Internet... WTF?

Dear Internet,

WTF?

Seriously.

In the past year of having the Dr. BourbonSex account - I've tried to really open up and lay it all out there. Bare my soul as it were... I've tried to be 100% honest on my thoughts, opinions, and feelings about pretty much everything. I've tried to be a decent human being. I support everyone in their own activities and actions as long as they don't hurt anyone else or infringe upon others basic human rights.

In that same year - I've been monogamy-shamed for loving my wife and not wanting to have threesomes. I've been called a patriarchal sexist asshole because I didn't like the Captain Marvel movie. I've been told that I'm an ableist because I want to get healthy and be able to run a mile without dying at the age of 45 - and I'm fucking over it all.

So - someone help me out here... what the ACTUAL fuck is wrong with people?

When did we all become so vile and hateful? When did we all go from supporting everything to supporting everything, but only so much as it relates to me? Fuck that noise.

I've only blocked a few people on this account... one was a weirdo asshole who was a massive MAG-Hat wearing douchebag. (Wrote a blog post about it here) But everyone else pretty much got a pass. People are allowed, even encouraged, to have different opinions. Jesus, that's what makes the world go round.

I've muted a few accounts... but that's mostly out of a desire to NOT see giant dicks on my twitter feed while I'm at work. Timeline dick-pics are STILL dick-pics people. And that's it.

But no longer.

Going forward, my ban-hammer will be strong and swift. I'll come down on you like Thor going after Thanos' head at the start of Endgame.

I've got enough of my own insecurities and anxiety issues that I don't need to deal with yours. Unfollow me if you want - I won't care. There are maybe... 20? Yeah... about 20 people on my twitter timeline whose absence would actually bother me. Everyone else is a fucking stranger, and I can do without being judged by your strange, personal qualms with the universe.

If I use the wrong pronoun - it's not an attack on you. I probably just didn't know. Please see that above bit about how you're a stranger. You can't expect me to know your life story via Tweets. So if I slip, take a moment to kindly suggest corrective action before running off at the mouth about how I've negated your personhood on accident.

I try to be a good person and to love everyone. I rarely speak with malice (unless I'm talking about Debbie... FUCK Debbie) so please ask yourself, "Is Dr. B really talking shit about me?" - the answer is probably a resounding "No."

And with that - I'm off. Today has been far too much for me to keep giving a fuck.

Have a lovely Tuesday!

-Dr. B

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.

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?

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.

Anxiety - A Guest Post by Lady Bourbon

We're back with another amazing guest author post... 

Today's Guest post doesn't need an introduction... I've done that already here.

ANXIETY

A Guest Post by Lady Bourbon

It was a dark and stormy night...

Actually, no, it wasn't. It was beautiful, sunny, and unseasonably warm for October. It was only dark and stormy inside my head, but the whole world might as well have been covered in in darkness as far as I was concerned at the moment.

So, I'm standing there, in my kitchen, trying to find the will to walk out my door and go to the sarlaac pit I call work. I was staring out the window at the garage. I was alone. The kids were at school and Bourbon was at work. I thought, maaaaaaaybe I could just... quit.


Not my job... My life.


No more work. No more overbearing mom. No more fear that every tiny thing I do is being judged and picked apart. No more feeling like a failure. That sounded pretty damn nice. Then, my mind wandered... as my mind is wont to do. I thought about ways to achieve this state of restful bliss.

Dude looks like a lady...

So... let's do some honesty therapy, shall we?

One night in, probably 2005(?) I got to dress in drag for a party. Complete with makeup... and that shit was hot. I think it is safe to say that since that moment, I've held a small, but growing desire to wear that type of outfit again.

Women are lucky... if they're feeling down or sad - they can spruce up with makeup. A little eyeliner, some blush, a little lipstick... bam. All the tiredness is gone. Men - we have to look good with soap, poorly managed beards, and... that's about it.

This weekend Lady Bourbon and I tried something new... She went to the store and picked me out a nice top and some very nice satin panties to match the skirt she gave me. We went out to dinner in normal, gender approved clothing... with the exception of the purple, satin panties I wore under my jeans... They felt amazing.

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.

Triathlon Training - A Guest Post by Matt Herald

Matt Harold is our guest author today.

He is sharing his basics on training to run a triathlon - something I will most likely never do.
You can find Matt on Twitter at @MattHerald

Self described as:

Beer drinker, Bourbon lover, Geocacher, Runner, Triathlete, Father of 3, Husband of 1, Keeper of ALL!

Triathlon Training

A Guest Post by Matt Herald

  Most people think of triathlon and instantly count themselves out.  Don’t worry, I used to do it, too.  But now, I am a triathlete.  Not only do I do triathlons, but I train so that I can be better at them.  And the craziest thing of all is that I enjoy it!  I enjoy the races, the competition, the mental preparation, the physical strain, and the most important part: crossing the finish line!  So what’s it take to train for a triathlon?  Well, it may not be as much as you think.  So here’s a peak into my triathlon training.