This isn't a fun post. But, hey. Me. (Patreon)

Some of you I know. Some of you, I am meeting for the first time.

My name is Heather. I drink. A lot.

My admitting this isn't the result of something happening to me. I didn't get into dire straits. I didn't stumble out of a bar and get mugged 30 seconds after. I didn't drive a car, get pulled over, and get a DUI. I didn't have a fight with a friend. I didn't forget where I put my keys until the next day, and still couldn't find them. I didn't fall on the way back to my front door and realize that the blood is where it shouldn't be. I didn't wander around, leaning on shoulders, until I figured everything out. I didn't vomit in a Walmart, and I didn't try to steal a Stop Sign.

I just took a moment to take stock. And, I realized. I drink. Way too much.

I know that all of you following me are over 18. You should be, because themz be the rules. And then, some of you are between the ages of 18 and 25.

Man, what a great age. I remember my first real hangover. It wasn't too long after I turned 25. But that's the age. If you're reading this, and you're under 25, you have no idea what I mean. Before I turned 25, I could go to sleep 3 o'clock in the morning, and wake up at about 7:30 the next day. In the office, at work, no-one the wiser. 

Then, once that day hits. Oh, man. You're screwed. There even comes a point, not too many years down the road, when the hangover doesn't just get ya'. It lasts two days. That's what happens after 25. You are here-to-fore, fore warned. Just binge on old episodes of Veronica Mars, make sure it's your day off, and you'll be ok. The thing is, you come to a point where the hangover doesn't just last the next day... Eventually, it comes to define you.

Eventually, you come home, have a drink, have a few drinks, because it helps. And then, you start to work for yourself (you're your own boss, chica, because you know the difference between you're and your). And that's cool, but you've got a lot of shit in your plate, and everybody says that working for yourself should be the best thing in the world. But you still know that you have bills to pay (and how do taxes even work?!). And even though you don't have to formally acknowledge the existence of a literal boss, you come to a much more desperate realization. The boss, is, in fact, yourself.

So, eventually, your home-bar becomes pretty elaborate, like any-given-scene in Mad Men. You assemble not only the main liquors, but also the ancillary ones. The periodic bottle of Disorono, and Kahlúa, and whatever version of menthe comes across your desk. But there are still the same boozes that make you happy. For some, it's wine; for some, it's beer; for some, it's vodka; for some, it's those wonderful amber-colored liquids... scotch, Bourbon, Tequila, you name it. We've all got our choice.

Eventually, you get to a point where these substances lull you to sleep. You're okay with their company, because they serve a purpose. In a way, they're pleasant company. Those good friends, who cuddle you, and warm you up, and make you feel better about what's going on.

But man, does it get you after a while. Some of us don't realize until it's far too late, that this stuff has a way of getting us. It starts as a friend, but it turns into an abusive relationship. When we are 29, it lulls us to sleep. But when we are 35, it keeps us awake. And even more cruelly it forces us to think about the things that we don't want to think about. Have you ever had those nights, when your eyes just stay open? When you're just staring straight ahead, daring your alarm clock to turn back a few hours? But then, there it is. The elusive Museum of Four in the Morning. And you stay awake, and you don't sleep, and there you are.

4 o'clock in the morning. That's the elusive thing. There's a poet named "Rives," whom I encourage you to Google, and pull up his videos in YouTube. He's a great guy. He has a couple of YouTube videos about the idea of what 4 o'clock in the morning means. The next time you're up at 4 o'clock in the morning, check them out.

I've gotten to the point where I realized that I don't like the person I am anymore at 4 o'clock in the morning. I remember a time when being awake at 4 a.m. wasn't just the result of insomnia. In the recent past, I have had the opportunity to wean off alcohol for a little while. It was the liver thing. I'm fine now, but it was a thing.

It was the first time I hadn't drunk for a week in Lord knows how long. And do you know what happened? I did amazing things. I painted a mural on the wall. Just because why the hell not. I wasn't up to my usual quota of mL per diem, and my mind was clear.

But then, back to the usual knee-jerk. When you measure booze in fingers, that can't be healthy. That's not healthy. It isn't healthy. Eventually, my liver or kidneys will take the most of the beating, and I'll die. If I keep that shit up. We've all see "House M.D."

I don't want that to happen. I like life. I don't want to die. And, I also don't want to feel the way that I feel when I drink too much. I get grumpy. Agitated. Sad. Anxious. The more I've been been thinking about it, the more I have been reminiscing about that person I was when I had that liver thing, and didn't drink for a week. I liked that version of me. I did a lot of stuff. I learned how to fucking knit. It was actually pretty fucking cool.

The first step to solving something is to admit to you have a problem. So, that's what I'm doing. 

My name is Heather, and I'm (probably) an alcoholic.

I mean no offense to anybody in Alcoholics Anonymous. It's a fine program, and the people who are involved in it are noble people, who are on the right path. You know your own strait, and you know where it will lead you. Keep on keeping on.

For me... right now, I'm not going to shut down my drinking altogether. That's my choice. I admit that I have a problem, and part of that problem is that I drink every day. I still like drinking, and so far, it hasn't caused me any horrible repercussions. So, I'm going to drink on the weekends. And on Wednesdays. But that's it. Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays... nope. The will starts somewhere.

I realize that some of you out there reading this might have substance abuse issues. If you do, I get you. I'm not prescribing my methodology to you as any sort of cure. For each of us, it's different. It's tricky. And it doesn't make a lot of sense. But, the point of this whole thing is to express who I am, and the thoughts that come out of my head.

This is one of those posts where I will welcome you to share your thoughts. This Patreon account is a safe place, and I try to make it that way (dispel the haters). So if you have any thoughts, or if there's anything you would like to share, or not like to share, that's cool.

Whatever the case, substance abuse is tricky. And it's not fun... That version of you who doesn't quite "work out," and you don't know who you really are. It's weird, right? Like a bizarro universe version of yourself, who you get to observe.

My name is Heather. I'm (in all likelihood) an alcoholic. But I'm taking steps in the right direction. I'll be fine. 

And I hope you are, too. You deserve to be.