Close call…


Yesterday I went to my usual watering hole, to get out of the house and enjoy my new found non-alcoholic beverage, “Budweiser Prohibition” beer. One of my pals was there, enjoying his usual 6 or 7 in quick succession. He times his volume of drink for when his wife gets home. Sometimes he gets to the pub late and downs the usual 6 or 7 within a half hour! I never drank like that…hardly never. No, never hardly…

Anyway, somewhere between his 5th and 6th, I started my 2nd “Bud Pro” and got to thinking how nice it would be to have one of those real beers in the near future. Mighty fine and nice I thought. So, I decided to skip taking the Antabuse, figuring by the weekend I’d be ok to enjoy some of that real, real good ol’ golden bubbly. Oh, I could hear the sizzle and feel it tickling my nose! I walked home quite proud of myself, knowing I’m such a big boy now — I can decide when and if I want to drink! Yes siree! Such a big boy!

Once home, I had dinner, then turned on the TV to see if there were any new movies on. One caught my eye, called “Beautiful Boy”. Reminded me of my son, when he was little. And then I read the description…a story about a family whose lives are torn apart by their 18 year old addict son. Hmmmmm. Now that got my attention, but not in a good way. No, it was a bucket of ice water poured in my bloody lap kind of way. It made me suddenly wonder — “Am I really an addict”? Thirty years of my life flashed by my eyes.

“Oh shit”. I took the Antabuse.

By the end of the evening I was in a completely different head space. Seriously, I couldn’t understand how or why I came to the drinking conclusion earlier. Really. I remembered all of the A.A. meetings that I had gone to over the years (probably at least a few hundred) where I learned that, without exception, those who suddenly took a drink “out of the blue” like that had had the same sort of experience as me. It’s like the ol’ devil on the shoulder pops up and whispers sweet something’s in your ear. It feels like it’s coming from outside of yourself, like it’s not really you, although you know it’s you — but don’t care.’s call that a “temporary form of insanity”.

And here I thought all those A.A. meetings had little to no effect on me. Wrong! Take.note.young.Jedi.

And I must note, had I not been taking the Antabuse, I most certainly would have had a drink without any waiting or hesitation. This is where the value of the Antabuse truly shines.

So here I am tonight, feeling really very fine. Sober. No plans whatsoever to drink. Ha! For years I used to sarcastically say, “Another day in paradise”, and never meant it. Tonight, I do.

And may we all.



One month sober…


Today, I’ve been sober for a month, again, thanks in large part to the Antabuse. I made it a month sober just a couple months ago, but this month I’m another month more than the last month that I went a month, which took me months to get to.

But seriously…I need to pinch myself every day. Really…I can’t believe how far I’ve come in such a short period of time. I had NO IDEA how far down the rabbit hole I had gone. How could I? It was dark in there. Very, very dark. I mean, I see now that for YEARS AND YEARS — about 15 now, until now, it’s like I was under a spell. A deep, dark evil spell, like I had been hexed, or evil-eyed or something. It’s that dramatic, and I’m not just being dramatic.

I’m dead serious. I’ve been — yes, I’ve been like a ZOMBIE for the past 15 years — a bag of bones walking dead man, just like the zombies in the movies. Well, almost, but I hope you’re getting the point here. Point is, I DIDN’T KNOW THAT I WAS IN THAT STATE. I DIDN’T KNOW JUST HOW MUCH THE ALCOHOL HAD BEEN INFLUENCING ME, HOW MUCH IT HAD BEEN CONTROLLING ME, HOW MUCH I WAS UNDER ITS SPELL.

By far the biggest thing that I have discovered in the past few weeks is this: While I was actively drinking every day, the alcohol had completely — and I mean absolutely — clouded my vision to the point that I COULD NOT SEE what it had done to me. I couldn’t see the extent of it until I was out of it.

This didn’t happen during that first sober month back in Sept/Oct. My brain was — literally, still healing. As it was for most of this month. It wasn’t until about a week ago that I was well enough to see and comprehend this. Comprehend what?

Listen, medical science has shown, proven, that long term alcohol abuse destroys both the grey and white matter in the brain. After we stop drinking, it takes about a month for the lost gray matter in the brain to mostly rejuvenate. What’s the value of the grey matter? The grey matter includes regions of the brain involved in, among other things — memory, emotions, speech, decision making, and self-control. Show me a drunk who doesn’t have problems with those!

As for the white matter, it takes up to a year for it to be restored. What’s the white matter good for? It acts like a subway, connecting the grey regions of the brain together. Are “WE” getting the picture here? No wonder I couldn’t see, let alone understand any of this while I was still drinking! Because my brain was pickled, pan-fried, sploshed, smothered and sauteed in the damn sauce! My brain was, plain and simply, PHYSICALLY HANDICAPPED — incapable of seeing and understanding this — until it had healed well enough to see and understand it.

I can see! May we all.




2nd day sober…again.


Just about ready for bed, finishing up my second, second day sober. I didn’t sleep well last night, understandably. Fitfully. I have a bit of a headache tonight. Well, I was drinking like the ol’ glory days for the past 6 weeks. My brain needs to re-adapt to the same-o without the vino. The tuners been off the station, so to speak. It’s going to take some time to dial in the smooth jazz again. No more rock n’ roll!

I’m not missing the bottle today. Good fricking riddance I’m saying today — that’s what I say. The nails in the coffin and I’m done my quaffin’, can ya dig it? Oh ya.

Ya, I’m losing my mind and everything’s just-a-fine. Well, maybe not. You see, sobriety is like a tree with many branches. Cept while I was drinking I was sitting on my arse at the bottom of it with my buddies, not looking up except when I took a swig from of my sweet nectar, and the bottle blocked my view of the branches. Those branches reaching way up high towards the light. Oh, I see them more than clearly now! The branches of what could have been the growth and variety of my life had I not wasted the last 30 years feeling sorry for myself, sucking on the bottle like a baby sucking on it’s Momma’s tit.

Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. Ok, I am. But still, these feelings are all in here just a running around and some of them don’t know what, where or when to sit down. Oh well. Life’s not over. I think I’ll have some choc’lat!


Beer and Mustard…


I couldn’t do it. By around 2, I was feeling so OFF and spacey. If I’m going to do this — which I WILL — I guess I need to wean myself off the booze over a period of a week or so, not over just a few days. Hey, I’ve really disappointed myself here too! Big time. But as they say, “Old habit’s die hard”. Call me the Bruce Willis of “Die Hard Addiction!!!”. Willis won out in the end, and that is my aim and goal as well. Not today, but oh well. I’m still in here slugging.

Tomorrow is another day. Tonight, I drank too much again….after I realized that I couldn’t shove that Antabuse pill down my throat. I came close! But my work day presented me with so many challenges, I just had to have a few, and as it turns out, a few too many, to cope, to escape, to ignore my challenge of the day.

Peyton Place indeed!!! Almost better than an soap opera, I am!!! Perhaps I should write a series based on my pathetic life!? I DO need something to finance my retirement!!!

I’m O-K with my progress, and apparent failure today. WHY??? Because I have been drinking for 40 years, 20 of that too much. The last week has shown me that I CAN cut back and recycle…I mean, reduce….haha…my intake to get to the Antabuse point! I WILL get there!!! I promise. Another few days…

I hear Canada geese in flight above my place tonight! Heading south now, I suppose. The weather here has turned. Makes sense. Smart geese! Dummy me –yet, with hope still!!!




14 days…


No, not 14 days sober. Rather, that’s how long I’ve had the Antabuse — and I still haven’t taken it. Why? I don’t really know why, although I’ve had some interesting insights in the meantime. For the first week or so I wanted to get in a few last “Hurrah’s” at the pub. I told most of my friends that I’m going to be taking it. They have been fairly supportive.

But it’s like my addiction has suddenly taken on a life of it’s own. Like Jekyll and Hyde being in the same room together, at the same time. One side of me wants to take the Antabuse, the other doesn’t, and doesn’t care what happens to me in the meantime. It’s hard to describe.

I can’t explain it really. Part of me just wants to damn the torpedoes and self destruct. To give up, give in, spin off into oblivion…


I’m planning to have no more than 3 sleeves (not pints) of cider tomorrow (today — it’s 4:15 AM) and then start the Antabuse on Sunday, but I’ve been saying the same thing for over the past week. What’s going on? Give up, give in, spin off into oblivion. Come on, just give up, give in, spin into oblivion.


Give up, give in, spin off into oblivion!