17 years

A reflection on sobriety and grattitude.

17 years

17 years ago I took my last drink.

It’s not a humble brag but a warning shot across my own bow, a reminder of my rock bottom. I was 25 years old, constantly on the road as a touring musician. When I think back to that time frame, I don’t think I felt 25. I felt old and very very unwell. I was unwell. Sick from poisoning myself night after night. Sure there were moments of fun but they quickly were erased by despair and sadness.

I hated being onstage, I couldn’t wait to be done so I could drink myself to sleep. I didn’t connect with anyone save for a few good ol pals that were in the Rocky Road to hell in pint glass too. Every once in a while an angel would appear to try and whisper some sense into my ear, to some avail I guess. A flicker of joy in a world of self control or self love or self knowledge. A world that I knew very little of, a world that I had been running from, from the moment I took my first drink at 14 or whenever it was.

I remember it, I remember the feeling and the warmth that came over me. How it took away the fear and anxiousness I felt as a kid. If only someone could have guided me through it. But how could have anyone seen me when I could see myself? I let alcohol and drugs take charge. I translated the world inside and out through music on the airwaves and on records. I learned morals on tape and became who I thought I should be instead of who I really was. I sailed on, clumsily and highly volatile, in a world of rocknroll and excess, at times very fun and very high, but what goes up…well you know the saying.

One day, while driving home across the prairies after a particularly long tour of shall we say excessive behaviour. A voice inside my head wouldn’t let me rest. Over and over again “it’s the booze” kept pounding in my skull. I broke down emotionally and called my girlfriend in tears. Desperate for some relief from the grip of this dark night.

I sobered up for a whole month before I found myself on a plane to Scotland for an 11 show Scottish tour where I inadvertently discovered the joys of scotch. I suppose I figured it a more sophisticated version of the drink. Smaller, more controllable. I was wrong.

I ended up in anchorage alaska in January of 2008. It was cold and dark, I was cold and dark. Lost, in auto pilot. The alcohol wasn’t working anymore. By some divine intervention a couple pals covertly headed off to an AA meeting, after I jostled it out of them as to where they were going, I convinced them to let me tag along.

What I found in AA was a community of people just like me, that could relate to my shortcomings and guide me out of that pit of despair. I understand the program isnt for everybody but it certainly worked for me and has kept me sober since. Fellowship saved my ass.

I love the dingy church basements, I love the old posters and goofy, but never truer sayings on the wall, I love busting through the language barriers into a common language of the alcoholic, I love the secret wink and a nod from the cab driver who knows exactly what kind of meeting he’s taking you too, I love(ed) the smoke filled Irish meetings full of laughter and barely decipherable chatter. I love crying through it with my friends, I love that it doesn’t always get easier but it most certainly ALWAYS gets better. I love that I ALWAYS have a place to go in any city and any little town.

Sobriety and therapy has helped me find my true self, has helped me open to my true nature, in turn making me a better artists and better human. Far from perfect but better. To be able to see the world for better or worse through a clear lense has been the best gist of all. I dont have to run away from my fear and anxiety anymore and when I cannot face them alone, help is a phone call away. for that I am eternally grateful. My children have never had to see me at my worst or hungover or on a drunk. That in istself is worth the admission donation.

Im so fucking grateful for the folks that have helped me along the way.

And I would like to say, that if you are struggling with alcohol or drugs, there is a way out of the dark. Its a phone call or a meeting away.

Bless you and a humble thank you. xo

Picture is from my first week as a sober person (Girdwood Alaska, recording ESP’s one for the ditch album)

A squat apartment in Amsterdam October 26, 2008, The Wine was not ours although Tim looks to be eyeing it up pretty good. (Maybe more likely the Stroopwaffles!)