Desperation

All day, all night, every day, all the time, everywhere. Omnipitant bullshit. Drinking a lot is like trying to swim in the gulf after an oil spill. The seabirds are laden with gooey tar balls that mat down their hair, foil their wings, and make flying like pushing mud uphill. Lots of wine did that to me every day. The desire originated in my brain. It is evenly fueled by the rest of me looking for sugar and the breeze of alcohol. I always found it, never missing a day. Never.

I would be at work. Doing a big job, well. At least, that's what my paycheck told me. Financial Services is full of people who constantly tell you how well you're doing, showering money even if you had no clue. I knew about technology, business, and Wall Street's insatiable desire to find new tools to make even more money. This served our customers well, and me too. I was living proof you don't need a Harvard degree to be successful. If you have one, it gets even better, though. Doors open, and if you fuck up, an alum appears and saves your ass, handing you a new job. It's a racket of rackets—the power of networks.

I kept taking on more. I would arrive home at about seven and immediately grab the corkscrew to open a bottle of wine. I'd fill a glass and take a swallow. Then I went to use the bathroom. I grew up a beer drinker, so quaffing a beer was what I learned and how I drank. I would carry the same style in my wine drinking. I felt like Steve Martin in the movie The Jerk. "Bring me some fresh wine, not that old stuff." I would keep the glass filled and emptied eight times before bed at ten. What a cycle.

Monday melded into Tuesday. Wednesday through Friday was the same. On weekends, you ramped things up because you didn't have work and could sleep late. Then, you can start drinking earlier versus holding off until evening. Wow, great. A Tiki Bar is nearby all day on the beach with staff to serve us. Rum Gumbies, fruity drinks filled with ice and booze. Even in the heat, I still drank red wine.

Abusing alcohol is an efficient but expensive problem. Most people in your posse don't want you to quit drinking. They fear eyes will find their way over to them for judgment—comfort in numbers. "We can't all be alcoholics," they say. Not in the circle jerk in the sun. At the beach, bar, or deck of your choosing. My experience says quite the opposite. Others know you have a problem, and that they do, too. When you don't drink, people adjust to it, thinking you'll fail. Hoping you'll fail so you can rejoin the ultimate fail group, and all share happy misery.

Admitting the problem-it's your first and most important decision. Why? You have to commit to yourself before you do to others. It's the only way you'll increase your chances of making it. It is critical to understand that when you have a drinking problem, you know you have it. You're in the dilemma of being the first to know and the last to do something about it.

I did it. If I can, you can. Here is to support for you and me!

Peace, Chris