My, How Time Flies

Six years ago yesterday, I was an out of control raging alcoholic and was drinking a fifth of straight whiskey with beer chasers every night until I blacked out.

I had been doing it for years.

I lost everything more than once including a marriage, two houses, fifty cars and another long term relationship. I can literally remember drinking straight whiskey out of a water glass when I was ten years old and was drinking heavily by my late teens.

Me and my little brother grew up in taverns. My dad was drinking and my Mom was a bartender. The funny thing is, Dad wouldn’t normally drink in the tavern Mom was working at. There was many a time we would sit in a booth drinking soda and eating beef jerky waiting for her to get off work.

They split when I was 8 and I actually raised my little brother by myself for a while. My Dad got custody and worked when he wasn’t out chasing tail and drinking. That was pretty rare back in the 60’s.

My Dad drank hard and my Mom actually drank herself to death before the age of forty.

She lost her mind years before her body gave up.

 

 

Six years ago, there was that one last three day binge, my wife grabbed the kids and took off. When I finally came to, I could see another marriage going down the tubes and the bottom of the barrel staring me in the face, again.

I had a long chat with myself, set the fucking bottle down and walked away.

I have been sober ever since.

That was six years ago, today.

 

I know that if I pick up a bottle of beer it will start right up where I left it from past experience trying to quit

 

Trust me, it ain’t all peaches and cream but it was the smartest fucking thing I have ever done in my life.

I have some really great stories, my body is tore the fuck up and my memory is shot.

Apparently my liver is made out of cast iron because I drank enough to kill two mere mortals.

It’s one fucking day at a time and by the Grace of God, I may still have some time left here.

God must have a reason for me to be here because I should have been dead seventy five or eighty times over and actually had an out of body experience after an especially bad car wreck when I was twenty.

 

This may be too much info for some but hey, it’s my Blog and the definition of a Blog is a personal web log.

Some times I use the thing as a bit of a personal journal and sometimes I use it just to get shit off my mind.

 

Some day, some kin of mine is going to read all this shit and wonder what the fuck I was like.

Now you have an idea of why I am so damn ornery.

 

36 thoughts on “My, How Time Flies

  1. I’m was the same way only with cigarettes, quit many times and went back, been off 10 years now, but if I smoked one I would buy a carton.
    Its one day at a time no matter the vice.
    God Bless and STAY STRONG.
    Ornery to Ornery
    If ever you need to talk hit me up.

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  2. Congratulations for sticking to it. In the last year I had two people who where close to me drink themselves to death. Ugly way to go. One was 55 and the other only 35. One day at a time man, one day at a time.

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    • It’s hard to watch but there isn’t much you can do.
      My Grandfather actually wanted to have her committed and gave me the final decision.
      I couldn’t bring myself to do it unfortunately.
      That was too much to ask of me as an immature 18 year old who was drinking and doing drugs himself.
      Looking back forty years gives me a different perspective but even now I doubt I would have.
      She might have lived a little longer and been more comfortable but she had some very serious health problems that would have killed her young anyway.
      I had a pretty fucked up childhood and was forbidden to see her for many years even though at one point I literally had to walk right past where she lived on my way back and forth from school.
      I’d stop in once in a while anyway, she was my Mom for fucks sake.Hammered or not.
      I finally had a nice headstone put on her grave just last year.

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  3. I was once working in a big Cash & Carry supermarket as floor manager. Actually it was the basement. Lots of good stuff like canned boar, canned deer and French specialities. And then there was liquor. Anything you could imagine. All the good and famous stuff. After a while I realized how much shoplifting was going on and had a word with my supervisor. She said that this was just normal and that I shouldn’t mind it.
    So I thought what the hell, bought me a carton of orange juice, drank it ad re-filled it. With Remy Martin. The empty bottle I discarded in an since long out of service elevator shaft. That shaft was quite spacious and held a lot of empty bottles…
    Drinking became a habit and after a couple of months I wouldn’t want to be without a loght buzz while working. I did my jobvwell, nobody complained, no one took notice of my drinking (and stealing) habit.
    Then I wanted free booze at home, too.
    Since i couldn’t smuggle Cognac bottles out that easily I liftes those big yet very flat Bacardi bottles.
    Finally while I was headig straight for the gutter came a very short moment of realization.
    In the morning I stood up and while anyone else would fire up the coffee machine I headed to the fridge, took out the Bacardi bottle and poured myself a water glass full. I stared at the glass in my hand and thought:
    „Really now? Did you come that far already drinking Bacardi for breakfast?“
    I knew I had to quit drinking right away – and in a drastic manner.
    I also knew that if I went to work or even stay in that rented flat I couldn’t change. I wouldn’t be strong enough.
    So I dropped a couple of Bacardi bottles in the trunk of my trusty old Lada, withdrew some money from my bank account, fetched my passport and drove away until I reached Strasbourg where I joined the French Foreign Legion.
    Anyway, Phil: I just wanted to tell you with this story that I can relate.
    I was a bit luckier though . It seems I didn’t become a full blown alcoholic since I still can have some beers or liquor without any negative effects.
    The only thing I stay away from since then is Bacardi. For a good reason I think.

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  4. Great job Phil. Here’s hoping for many more years of staying sober. Thanks for your always honest thoughts posted here. Always enjoy it.

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  5. Boils down to, your a man, a man has to do what a man has to do. I highly commend you for looking at it straight and no bitching or whining just said no. You have earned respect from me, not that it matters one iota. Did it save the second marriage you mentioned after saying no more? At our age and experience we deserve to be ornery and cranky, we are the last to know hard labor work and lean times and ass kickings. Kids now a days have no clue and no ambitions to know.

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    • Yeah, we both said until death do us part, no divorce. She is currently scowling at me as I type. Probably has some especially shitty honey do for me and is just waiting for the right moment to break it to me.
      She is a good woman, one of the last of the old school.
      You gotta know she can be meaner than cat shit if she can put up with my ass though.

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  6. God bless you, Phil.

    I’ve been sober since February 1995. I was headed to an early grave, and then had my Moment of Clarity.

    Life’s been good since then…..

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  7. congratulations on quitting drinking. wish I had on smoking. My Dad drank like that till he stroked out. I love making shine but I don’t drink. My grandpa told me if it begins to taste GOOD Quit . I come from a long line of bubblers.

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    • Boy, do I miss Lawn mower gas from ‘Bama down around Troy out in the boonies… Lived in Pine Level, Enterprise, Ozark and up by Gadsden. Sure do miss Bama. The wilds of South Dakota have nothing on Sweet Home Alabama.

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  8. And this is why a lot of us have serious respect for you, because you know who you are, and you’ve been there and done that. I could write a lot more, but those words have already been said.

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  9. Like another comment said above, don’t die Phil. I enjoy reading your blog too much. You’re a tough old burr and this country needs a lot more men who roll like you. From one old fuck to another, take care. God love ya, son.

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  10. I never drank or smoked, but my parents did. One was definitely the falling-down drunk alcoholic before cleaning up, the other I saw slam half a flat of beer till 2pm, just in time to sober up for the other to arrive home after work, and continued that behavior until the Doctor gave that parent 6 weeks with alcohol or many, many years without. Parent chose… wisely.

    I know I have an addictive personality. Something I have to fight with over all sorts of stupid stuff, like, oh, food. And other not-nice things.

    I salute you for your strength. Actually, I salute everyone here who has cleaned up. One of the hardest things to do is face yourself and fight, well, you.

    Keep on keeping on. The web-world (and the real world) are a better place with you.

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  11. as a night club owner and operator in southern wva i was doing a case and a quart daily after a few years in the business and a radiologist friend wanted to do a scan of my liver for scientific purposes. remarkably it was ok. a few years after i sold out and cleaned up as much as you can after falling down like that. growing up in the fifties and sixties such things were considered ‘normal’ in some ways. in some ways such habits are like the commercials against cocaine of the eighties where you watched lots of stuff like cars and houses being snorted up the nose. we live, die and sometimes learn a few things. congrats on what you’ve learned.

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  12. heard a old style preacher say that God watches out for fools & drunks in which case he had double indemnity. i always thought, yeah pal, amen right there. “At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.”

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  13. Stopped drinking four months ago at 61 years old with help from AA. Things haven’t been this good for forty years. Glad to be in the company of a bunch of drunks.

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  14. Congrats. bro! 6 years sober is awesome!

    I remember when I started on my own road to recovery, dudes with 3 years clean and sober had reached heights that I could not imagine.

    Today, every day is a miracle.

    Bob

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  15. As the Aussies say . . . “Good on ya, mate!”. Forge ahead, don’t look back, don’t turn back. . And as Ludwig von Mises had as his motto: TU NE CEDE MALIS, SED CONTRA AUDENTIOR ITO” (Do Not Give In To Evil, But Rise Up More Forcefully Against It), Love your blog, BTW. Daily reading for me (sometimes 2 – 3 times). Amen, brother.

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  16. Good for you mofo, I nearly killed myself with some other stuff and almost lost control, but pulled it back between the lines. Its a tough road but it was worth it, I feel everything you feel, your not alone, ever..

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  17. Good on you, Phil.
    I enjoy your blog, the rants, the personal stories, the cleaning the garage projects, all of it. I have a “shed”, packed full of shit I don’t need, and some how shoehorned in a 1951 Farmall tractor my neighbor was getting rid of. Now to do any work on anything I have to first move 2 tractors outside to make room.
    So your stories about working on stuff strike a familiar chord.

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  18. I drank, done drugs, and have ridden motorsickles all my life(still do that). Back in my young days, I thought it wasn’t anybody’s business but mine what I did with my paychecks, the one from my job, and the cash from my… side sales. But God decided I needed a wakeup, one night, I went down and broke a hip I’d broken before when I went down. After, I couldn’t walk, much less work and limped home from Ca. to Il. with my tail between my legs. I quit drugs that night, but kept drinkin’ and couldn’t understand it at all cause I didn’t want to anymore. I accidentally stumbled across AA, it took a few more months, but it finally took. My last drunk was in Oct. 1988, I was 33. Got my leg fixed, went back to college and got a degree in electronics, got married, bought a house… all that good shit. I considered suicide at the time, but my daddy did that when I was nine. Glad I didn’t, I’d a missed the best years of my life.
    Oh, and I personally enjoy bein’ a grumpy old bastard. Keep on keepin’ on, bro.

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  19. I’m late to the party – again.
    I tipped my last beer well over a year ago. I started drinking when I was 15, and somehow managed to keep it under control – until I set foot on foreign soil. Thanks to my lack of self-control, I never failed to get knee-walking, snot-slinging drunk while on liberty, except in Saudi Arabia and Kenya. They just don’t have any hooch in Saudi, and Kenyan beer is like rancid elephant piss.
    My dad was a practicing alcoholic the whole time I knew him. He was on death’s door from liver failure when finally, on my birthday in ’73, he was admitted to the hospital. His doctor told Mom that when he was admitted, he had less than 24 hours to live.
    It took 2 1/2 years in a convalescent home for him to recover, so I grew up without a father from the time I was 13 until I was closing on 16. I was one angry kid.
    There was some skullduggery going on, too. Somebody kept bringing liquor into the house well after Dad couldn’t get out of bed. Someone in my family was helping him drink himself to death.
    I have no contact with my Mom or my sisters, because one or all of them are literally murderous assholes. My brother is covering up for them, so fuck him, too.
    Ain’t alcohol wonderful?

    Glad you’re still fighting the addiction, Phil. Keep it up. You’re an inspiration, you cantankerous old fart.

    Like

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