My Cautionary Tale… My Albatross
This has been my social media profile picture since the summer of 2016. I took it the night that I first attempted to quit drinking. It was also the first time I had experienced delirium tremens (DTs), aka alcohol withdrawal syndrome, and DID NOT soothe those symptoms by drinking. I had been experiencing the DTs daily for at least a couple of months leading up to that point (my memory is fuzzy about when they started). Now, I should have probably Googled how dangerous DTs are, but I didn’t. They can be fatal. Spoiler- I didn’t die that night. But the pain was intense. The hallucinations (both visual and auditory) were also intense. At the time, I kept thinking, “well, clearly this is rock bottom.” It wasn’t.
My sobriety held for like a little over a year and a half. My wife helped me through all of it. Eventually, I relapsed to the point that my body was dependent on alcohol again and got through the DTs with the help of our doctor and medication. Still not a great experience, but better than the first time. Again, my wife helped me through it. I started going to therapy to work on my depression and anxiety. I was making some progress. I got corresponding medication prescribed. I took them. But I was still unemployed, still severely depressed, anxious, and incredibly frustrated. I saw no future in life and hoped I could just drink myself to death. I eventually started skipping therapy sessions. Then stopped going altogether. But didn’t tell my wife. In fact, I routinely lied to her about going to therapy… and obviously the drinking. And eventually, she found out that I had been lying. Trust irrevocably broken. An over 20-year relationship completely ruined. We decided it was probably best if we got divorced. This coincided with my newest withdrawal (again with meds) and the help of my (soon-to-be) ex-wife. I survived another one. I went back to therapy. Again, I kept thinking, “well, clearly this is rock bottom.” It wasn’t.
Leaving Seattle and going back to California was really my only option. This was near the summer of 2018. I got sober yet again. I had some loose ends to wrap up in Seattle before heading south. At first, my wife and I continued living under the same roof, but that became too hard to deal with, especially for her. Totally understandable. So I spent nights at various motels along Highway 99 and was at the house during the day (with the dog) on weekdays. It took me several months to get all my projects/tasks/responsibilities finished. I sold a bunch of stuff. I donated the rest. I packed up what I could fit in my car and headed back to where I grew up.
A new beginning perhaps. I was optimistic but didn’t have much trust in myself. It was towards the end of October. I started to get settled in. I saw old friends. I visited with family. I looked for work. I didn’t find work. Sobriety was holding, but being back (especially under the circumstances) eventually began to feel like the mariner’s albatross. I started neglecting to take my medication. I definitely felt like a failure. I had the urge to try to once again drink myself to death. I got back to it. It again wasn’t working. I thought of other ways to speed this whole thing up, like I had from time to time since the age of twelve or so. But I didn’t follow through with it. I just sorta existed, continuing to drink off and on. I continued to look for work. I was still unsuccessful. After recently and quickly consuming 10 to 12 airplane bottles of cheap vodka on the eve of May 31st, 2020, I blacked out while walking down the hallway of my childhood home. I fell flat on my chin. My lower teeth cut the inside of my upper lip. I bit my tongue. I bruised my face. I developed a swollen jaw. A fair amount of blood got onto the carpet. I woke up in bed in pain and sadness, being tended to by my mother. I apologized profusely. I went back to sleep. I woke up the morning of June 1st, 2020, and thought, “Well, clearly this is rock bottom.” Maybe it was? Being sober now feels pretty normal. Not contemplating offing oneself so often, often times feels somewhat normal.
I got back on my meds. I began exercising. I began implementing things I had learned in therapy. I started talking about sobriety and my mental health when appropriate. I started to think about hobbies and what skills and experience I might have that might be able to help others. I began thinking more positively about life and my possible place in it. I reignited my love for music and my wanting to help artists navigate their careers. I try not to let the intrusive thoughts and depressive episodes get to me too much. I try to keep my self-loathing to a minimum, emphasis on ‘try.’ Knowing that everything is temporary.
This is my cautionary tale. The biggest ‘don’t be like me’ part of my life. There are other aspects of life where one shouldn’t be like me, but this one especially. My selfishness and deceitfulness took away the greatest relationship I’ll ever have. I know I can’t make up for past mistakes. I’ll never be able to go back in time and change any outcomes, but I can try to spend the rest of the time that I do have living as positively as possible.
