My goodbye letter to alcohol
Why the hell didn't I say goodby earlier? There were reasons, but none of them good ones.
Dear alcohol,
We’ve known each other for going on 40 years now. It’s been real. Early on, we threw some epic parties that were story worthy for a solid twenty years.
Later, you were the foundation for several businesses. A series of breweries and a beverage analytics firm. There was some good and some bad in that. However, now that I am thinking about it, there was more bad than good. Reflecting back, I guess I allowed you to put some lipstick on the pig. A trick you liked to do often.
Still, owning breweries was indeed fun. Building a business and a brand from the ground up. From launch parties to pulling my own product off a grocery shelf or ordering it on tap a dozen states away from home. That was novel. Exciting.
Hearing people tell stories about your brand who are sitting next to you at the airport bar, with no clue the person they were talking about was sitting next to them. Pretty cool. Minor celebrity. D-list but still.
Remember the time that one person in, I forget what airport it was, but they made the whole story up about how we came up with the brand name? Listening into that conversation was hysterical and memorable.
Oh, there were the off the books insider-only parties you got me in to also. The one in London after the Truman brewery event. Or how about the one in Philly that was thrown by the CEO of Dogfish Head. Karaoke on stage in costume with the back up band being Cracker. Ok that one was epic. Yeah, I kept the videos of that one.
Ahh, you were flowing that night and everybody loved you. How about the time I ran into into a colleague in the green room at Bloomberg in New York City then heading for a pint afterwards, toasting each other’s success. Bloomberg TV! Yes, those were the days. Problem is, it all went to your head and you thought you were in change.
Looking back on it now, while they were some good and interesting experiences, a lot of it was just empty calories, sort of like you. Didn’t really mean all that much. No substance to it.
Well, all things must come to an end. And the end is here for us.
You shouldn’t be surprised really. Alcohol, you have not aged all that well. You are getting a little rough around the edges, my friend. I know you want to keep the party going and you are welcome to, just not with me. The fact you keep wanting to go back and do the same thing over and over has gotten tedious and you just don’t see it.
My hit and run incident is now in the rear view mirror. Spending time in a in a Level One Trauma Center ICU instead of racing at Unbound Gravel was not in the plan. Neither was missing The Rift, Gravel Locos, Vermont Overland or spending the hottest summer in recent history in a back and neck brace. These ‘inconveniences’ were a great motivator. I know you missed me this summer but dude, TBI’s and booze are not a good combo. Our time apart gave me some time to think. And like most ‘Trial Separations’, trial often becomes permanent.
Three months out from quite literally cheating death, and baby, I am back. Healthier and training hard, almost as if nothing ever happened. I ‘m sure you don’t like hearing that.
As you know, there are some new and unexpected traits which have emerged since the accident. No more anxiety or panic attacks. I don’t know why, and I am definitely not complaining. The one good thing about the TBI I guess. I am glad to see that daily problem get dropped in the dust. You, not so much, I imagine.
No more anxiety made it easier to tell you goodbye, alcohol. Anxiety always liked to team up with you. You must be lonely with your enabler gone.
No longer do I have to worry about my late afternoon wave of terror invading and disrupting my day or my night for that matter. Which means I no longer have to tell myself that one more beer will quench the flames of fear and terror when you and your buddy anxiety decided to drop in.
Given the fact that I am lucky as hell to not be dead or paralyzed, managing my health is a priority. Not just most of it but all of it. Being in my mid-50’s, I want to be at the top of my game and perform at a high level and you just don’t fit into that mix anymore. Not sure you ever did, but hey, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Not going to give you that second chance bud. Sorry, not sorry.
Alcohol, I do have to say that you got very good at collaboration over the years, but your choice of colleagues sucks. You always seemed to do your best work with some pretty sketchy characters including self-doubt, ego and imposter syndrome just to name a few. They are all pretty socially inept, each in their own weird way and they relied on you to help them do their bidding.
Dude, you gladly let them use you, and I think you knew it, which says a lot about your integrity and character.
Oh, I also think you are also a pathological liar. I know that might hurt but I feel the need to say things like I see them. Another not-dying trait. Frankness. Getting destroyed by a truck who flees the scene leaving you face down, nearly a dozen broken bones and flat lined for a couple of minutes changes a person.
Sometimes the truth hurts, alcohol. But this is for your own good. You can only grow and improve if you face it the truth. What you choose to do with it, is up to you.
Nothing you told me about how great the party was going to be, if you were front and center, was even remotely true. At times, sure, I wanted to believe you. I really did. You made it so easy. Good liars can create a solid illusion. Hell, most of what you laid out sounded like a lot of fun, it was almost…logical in a warped sort of way. You were really good at hitting all hot buttons. But you knew that didn’t you?
Reflecting back on it, you are a user alcohol, plain and simple. I don’t want to say that you are a sociopath, but I sure see some red flags.
And to be clear, I don’t want you to see this as a challenge to win me back. My mind is made up. I’ve removed you from my contacts so I am not answering if you come calling. You are on your own. Me, I am going to go forward and I won’t give the decision to dump you a second thought.
The world is a better and brighter and a healthier place without you. I truly hope you get your shit together so you don’t disrupt the lives of others but that’s not really you, now is it?
Cordially,
Steve