Here we go again…day 1.

Yup, here I go again. But THIS time, I’m really going to do it. How do I know that? I don’t know how I know, I just know that I know. There is something different about that. I’ve committed myself to 30 days starting today. If I do the 30 days — which I am certain that I will — then I will continue FOREVER. I’ve told my friends, who are all chiefly drinking friends (the main thing we share in common anyway) that I’m doing this 30 day thing and that I have to have their support. In fact I told them that if I don’t do this 30 days that I’m going to quit my job and go into rehab and then a half-way house and disappear. Yes, I’m open to rehab, finally, if that’s what it takes to get and keep me sober. I don’t think I’ll end up there — but I am willing to do it now if I need to.

So here we go. I’m going to do whatever it takes to get and stay sober. A.A. meetings — anything and everything to do this, by God’s grace. I choose LIFE! See you there!



Five beers tonight (Tuesday). At zero by Saturday, forever. No “Moderation Management” planned for this guy. Tried that, many–too many–times. Doesn’t work for me. Total abstinence is my plan, finally. Well, reluctant acceptance of the facts that have stacked up for so long than I just cannot ignore them any more. It is what it is. I WILL achieve this by Saturday.

I’m thinking about starting up a video blog once I’m sober for a while. I’ve been following a fellow in the UK whose down to earth, candid and unrehearsed videos have really helped me recently. Here’s a link to one of his most recent to really impact me:




A bird that fly’s and stops along the way on this branch or that, on this tree or that, is responsible not just for the place where it ends its journey, but for every place where it stopped along the way.

In the same way, every drunk like me is responsible for all of our past, our drunken irresponsible flight from there to here. We all know that, and that makes being sober that much more difficult. But from what I hear, especially from the “Promises” stated in A.A., we can be forgiven, we can discover new life, regardless. This keeps me going.

I’m on a self-imposed detox this week. By the weekend I plan to be off the bottle, forever. That’s my plan. I believe it will happen. I believe I will make it happen, with the strength of my higher power, whatever that is, that which is beyond myself, that I know is there for me.

Thanks to all those who have supported me up to this this branch on this tree. This tree of Life.

Still drunk….

I’ve had some sober days, but mostly drunk. Still struggling big time with the beast.

It wants to kill me. I know that. Do I care? I’m 58 years old now and the care is lessening. Not a good thing, I know, but this is life in my culture!



I’m ok. New plans to produce a video blog, a “Vlog” as it’s called now.  To showcase my next 30 day’s ambition to go on the wagon. Of course, I won’t post it here unless I’m successful, which I think I will be! And then you will see the real me. Take care, friends. 


Choosing to live…

I’ve been profoundly moved by a comment Karymayhickey made a few days ago in response to one of my posts, about her choosing to live rather than waiting to die. Having reached a state similar to what I’ve been in recently, with high blood pressure and high anxiety and a high fear of dying every night from the drink, she suddenly chose the opposite, stating in her comment;

“No more waiting for death to come find me, I’m going to make it search its ass off, I’m going to start living.”

And that’s when she stopped drinking herself to death. This morning I read something equally profound stated long ago by the artist Agnes Martin;

“If you want life on your side or to be on the side of life against death you must surrender completely to life.”

As I’ve “matured and developed” (sic) in my own alcoholism over the past few years I’ve had a growing realization that one of the primary reasons I drink is to avoid the truth. The truth being the facts of and in my life that I don’t want to accept or deal with. I drink to protest these things, I drink to avoid these things, and I drink to forget them. In the spirit of Karymayhickey and Agnes Martin, I think by so doing I’ve been choosing death instead of life. What is “Life” in this context? Life simply is what is. It is the facts that I have chosen, by drinking, to protest, to avoid, ignore or forget.

When we make the conscious choice to start living and surrender completely to life, I think we can put the damn bottle down. That’s what I’m counting on. I choose to start living. I choose to surrender completely to life–finally. May it be so.



Blood pressure, that is. For as long as I can remember my blood pressure has averaged around 145/95. Yes, that’s considered “high”. No, my doctor didn’t put me on medication for it. Rather, he meekly encouraged me to keep working on my “interest” to quit drinking. I suspected he knew something that I didn’t. I hoped that was the case anyway. His worry about my pressure may have been under-rated, and my worry peaked a couple weeks ago when it hit 160/110. So I went to see another doctor.

The other doctor, in the same clinic, had my chart history. “So” he said blankly, “I see you’ve got fatty liver.” From my hungover numb-skull I dredged up a, “Yup”. “Well your pressure is high so lets send you for blood tests and then see me or Dr. M next week”. I knew what the blood tests were for — to see just how “fatty” my fat bloody liver is now. Fatty liver is stage 1 of alcoholic liver disease and is reversible. Stage 2 is cirrhosis, which is not. I didn’t go for the blood tests. I just went home and prayed that I wouldn’t stroke out or die.

Then last week I had my little “Truth” epiphany. The one that gave me goosebumps. Since then I have–no, not “miraculously” stopped drinking. I wish. Rather, I have, let’s call it, “melodramatically” been able to limit my drinks to “around-3” per day. It wasn’t easy. After around-3 I really wanted another round or more, but didn’t, for fear of death mostly. That and I’m broke, which helped.

8 days ago my pressure was 160/110. 5 days ago it was 147/93. 2 days ago it was 138/92. This morning it is 125/82. Holy crap. That’s with averaging around 3 drinks per day; sleeves to be exact, of beer. The fear of death has left me, for now. I say “for now” because I know damn well I could go right-back-out there and ramp it all back up again.

But maybe this time I won’t race out and ramp up again because, well, I’ve seen the truth. And, borrowing from the bible somewhere it says “the truth shall set you free” –? Hmmmmmm.

I guess we’ll see. And oh–I don’t plan to “limit” my drinking. I want to be bloody free of it altogether. For those who have stuck with me here, thanks a million, and stay tuned.