Six years sober. Strong word, sober. It implies not drunk. Drunk wasn’t my problem, not six years ago. Twenty-six years ago, drunk fit well. Six years ago, sometimes buzzed, tipsy. But usually, just relaxed... every night. Relaxed or buzzed every night. Until I quit. New Year’s Day seems like a good sobriety anniversary. Easy to … Continue reading Six Years “Sober”
Substance Abuse
*Normal* A story of change
“Jeffrey doesn’t like change.” My father said this (in my presence) to my mother as our family contemplated moving to a new state. I must have been twelve or thirteen years old. Prior to this, I was unaware of my aversion to change. Brief aside #1: Please don’t call me Jeffrey. My father is permitted … Continue reading *Normal* A story of change
Roz
Roz. For me, the name evokes images of a past-prime babe. The girl who peaked in her teens. Now hanging out at a bar. Boozy, desperate. Trying to recapture the glory of her youth. Not yet old, but getting there, and definitely worn out. That’s the image I see, anyway. We all have name biases. … Continue reading Roz
When I was a D!ck
Years ago, when I joined The Writers' Brigade, Gettysburg's only public writers' group, long-time member Keith Johnson put a name to the steady stream of intensely personal prose I churned out. He called it confessional nonfiction. The name fit. Much of what I produced seemed to spring from an uncontrollable desire to come clean. To … Continue reading When I was a D!ck
A Safe Ending
Sophie stayed out past curfew. Not the curfew Susan and I set—we didn’t set one—but the curfew set by the state of Pennsylvania: seventeen-year-old drivers are banned from the road by eleven. Sophie’s never had a parental curfew; she’s never stayed out unreasonably late, and she’s never done anything to make us doubt her judgement. … Continue reading A Safe Ending
Un-Disabled
Last night I watched Chicago Hope. It’s a medical drama, I think. This episode was about a hospital, and I assume they’re all about a hospital, so let’s go with calling it a medical drama. In this episode René Auberjonois, the actor who starred as Father Mulcahy on the TV show M*A*S*H, played a surgeon … Continue reading Un-Disabled
Post-Thanksgiving, Hungover
I just wrote a piece called Depression in Two Parts. I stuck it in the Vault. That’s what I call the buried folder on my hard drive where revealing essays go to die. The ones I don’t want to post. The ones that aren’t about me. DITP is about family. And friends (ex-friends) and emotions. … Continue reading Post-Thanksgiving, Hungover
Kids Need to Party
Lynchburg, Virginia, 1983—An intersection: Liberty Baptist College, Lynchburg College, Jerry Falwell and me. Here’s a fun fact: Liberty and Lynchburg have both become universities. I’m not really sure what turns a college into a university. Obviously, I could look it up, but then I’d have nothing but white space where these two sentences now stand. … Continue reading Kids Need to Party
Pray for Mike
We took pills, Mike and me. Lots of them. Mike took Darvon, an opioid. He found a giant plastic bottle in his Grandmother’s linen closet, one thousand pills. She used to be a nurse. He brought them back to college, took them by the fistful. I took speeders. Caffeine pills. I had big plastic bottles, … Continue reading Pray for Mike
My Hungover Weekend
Once upon a time, I spent my weekends sick. Sick during the days, but not at night. The nights I spent drunk. My mornings started early. Saturday and Sunday, eight o’clock, nine o’clock. Maybe not early by today’s standards—I’m up at five each day during the week—but eight A.M. is early when you get to … Continue reading My Hungover Weekend
The Loneliness of Hearing Loss
Let’s be clear. I’m not deaf. It’s true I can’t function without hearing aids, but only when I want to talk with someone. And rarely do I want to talk with someone. Except of course my family, which is a problem because the time I’m most likely to go without hearing aids is at home. … Continue reading The Loneliness of Hearing Loss
The Brickskeller
On January 17, 1991, the United States Navy bombed the holy-hell out of Iraq. For the first time in eighteen years, the U.S. was at war. My response? I went out drinking. DCs premier beer-bar, the Brickskeller, hosted a tasting of Bell’s Third Coast Beer that night. As I primped for my evening out, the … Continue reading The Brickskeller
WordPress, Facebook, Twitter
I’ve got this routine. WordPress, Facebook, Twitter. I do this slowly, wanting to savor the alerts. The WordPress red dot, the numbers in the Facebook and Twitter bells. These are my social media. No Instagram, that’s where my kids hang out. I don’t want to crash their party. I do it again. WordPress, Facebook, Twitter. … Continue reading WordPress, Facebook, Twitter
Caffeinated #2
On Saturday morning my head pounds the rhythm of my pulse an alarm clock alerting me that the time to start drinking coffee has already passed. Also: Caffeinated
Dry. Part 2.
Dry. It really sucks. Dry, meaning alcohol free, it’s miserable. At least it is for me. Lots of us (dry people) use the euphemism sober. It sounds adult, more mature. I don’t call myself sober because of what it implies, which is: not drunk. It’s not that I’m not not drunk, it’s just that before, … Continue reading Dry. Part 2.
Blackouts
Like everyone else, I’m writing about the Kavanaugh hearing. But because I’m self-centered, I’m really writing about myself. I’ve barely paid attention to this news cycle. I don’t have cable TV. I never watch videos on news websites, and I only spend a few minutes each day listening to the radio. Almost everything I know … Continue reading Blackouts
(Flash) Natural order of things
Me, in his office: defensive, insecure. Him behind his desk: Disapproving, judgmental. “You’ll quit drinking,” he says. Not a suggestion, not a request. A declaration. An intervention. “I’m only here for my meds, my antidepressants.” Medication management, no prescription without a discussion. Power of suggestion? Voodoo? A good read of character? Yes, he was right. … Continue reading (Flash) Natural order of things
Crest the Hill
I’m certain this is bad mojo, Dunston isn’t dead. But it’s probably the nicest thing I can offer a person. I don’t communicate well. When people ask my opinion, it comes out combative, abrupt. When I give a compliment, I unintentionally balance some bad with the good. It’s only when I can sit at a … Continue reading Crest the Hill
Another One Bites the Dust
Thump, Thump, Thump, Pap, Another one bites the dust. Thump, Thump, Thump, Pap, Another one bites the dust. This was the biggest song of the year when I was a college freshman—1980-1981. This statistic is backed up by billboard charting, but really, you simply needed to be in a college dormitory to know this fact. … Continue reading Another One Bites the Dust
Buzz, revisited
Last week, I posted a story, Buzz, that paints a picture of drug use. It wasn’t encouraging or cautionary. It offered no opinion. It was simply a snapshot, a vivid scene featuring four intoxicated teens. It went nowhere. Stats-wise, it was my worst performing story in a year. Thirty page-views, two commenters, not so many likes. … Continue reading Buzz, revisited
The Other Stuff 