What I've Learned In My 40s(so far): 6. You Are In Charge Of Your Own Happiness, Nobody Is Coming To Save You

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you can start to practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

As I stare down 47, my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

6. I Have Learned That You Are In Charge Of Your Own Life, Nobody Is Coming To Save You.

This piggybacks a bit on the previous section(read it at the link at the end). When it comes to chasing your dreams you will have a lot of supporters but in the end, you are the one who is going to have to do the chasing. Sure, some people will give you advice or a helping hand but nobody is going to pick you up and carry you to where you need to be. That is all on you.

In your adult years, you learn more and more that you are the writer of your own story. Your job, where you live, who you surround yourself with, you have a choice in all of it. I have been one to fool myself into thinking that certain things were just meant to be, good or bad.

This becomes a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. If I wish I had a different job but never apply anywhere then I’m stuck where I am. If I wish I was in a relationship but never talk to anyone then I’ll stay single. This can be applied to any situation. If you don’t change anything nothing will change.

Nobody is coming to save you, or me, or any of us. I wish I had more helping hands, or sympathetic ears, in my life. Many times I have had to navigate rough seas by myself. I either knew I had to or didn’t have the time to wait and see where the chips fell. Being self-reliant is both rewarding and terrifying. It means you get the credit for your successes but you also get the blame for your failures. That is all on you.

This doesn’t mean that the world is a cold and lonely place. It can be if you make it that way. It just means that the person you see in the mirror is more often than not going to be your dance partner in the game of life.

Much of what you have read in these articles, the deaths of loved ones, financial issues, mental health struggles, and alcohol addiction. For the most part, I fought through those things on my own. I am currently going through a struggle with weight gain and very likely I will be battling that on my own.

I am not saying don't ask for help or don’t confide in people. Many will do what they can when they can. I am saying that it’s your life and you are the one in charge of it. You are the director, not a non-speaking extra.

In the end, every decade of my life has been highly consequential and influential and I am sure my 40s will be no different. I will never be as young as I am right now and with every passing second I hope that I am gaining the wisdom to make the next day, week, or year, the best it can be.

Remember there is no textbook on how to live your life. Sure there are loads of self-help books, personal development books, and people of experience to help guide you. However, there is only one you. What works for someone else might not work for you.

My 40s so far have been a lot of gaining inspiration from others and using the inspiration to try to continue down this path I’ve been on for so long. I’ve wanted to do more with my life than just be a 9 to 5 worker. I’ve always felt I had more to offer creatively. It has been a relentless and sometimes fruitless journey on this road but it is a journey I feel destined to continue on.

A goal in my life is to live to be 100. That means I am almost halfway done. My 40s seem to be the decade thus far where I am trying to fortify whatever my legacy will be that I leave when I’m gone. I am coming around to the idea that I will be an example to others.

What I mean is that things I have done will be used by others to hopefully inspire them. Chasing your dreams until you’re well into middle age? You all should do that. Don’t ever give up on them. Making mistakes but learning and recovering from them like I did with my alcohol addiction? I don’t advocate drinking to excess but I advocate not letting mistakes be what defines you.

Most of all I try to be a better version of myself than I was the day before. Even if I improve .0001% I am still moving forward. I think that’s all we can do in life, try to become better versions of ourselves.

I wrote this on my 47^th birthday and was very happy with how it came out. I think it encapsulates who I am and what I have learned in my years so far. I hope you enjoy it.

In my mind, I’m still 8 years old first discovering my love of writing. I’m still 18 at my high school graduation wondering what the road ahead looks like. I’m still 23 and failing spectacularly at life in Las Vegas. I’m still 27 thinking I’d found the one. I’m still 35 basking in the glow of my first book. I’m still 37 thinking I was the best version of myself. I’m still 41 and staring down the barrel of insurmountable losses of loved ones.

In reality, I’m 47. I’m none of those people and yet I’m all of them. I carry all of my past selves with me for they are the ones that made me who I am.

The people I know and have known through all of those years, they are the grains of sand that make up the beach that is my life. Many of them are single grains that came and went. Some of them are the huge boulders upon the sand that have lifted me up beyond where I thought I could go.

I’m 47 and am as undefined as a summer breeze, as unsure as a dark walk in the fog, and as confident as a tenured professor with a mind that still feels like a child on the first day of school.

This is my life. I’m grateful for every moment that came before and excited for every moment still to come.

Previous: 5. There Is No Expiration Date On Your Dreams

What I've Learned In My 40s(so far): 5. There Is No Expiration Date On Your Dreams

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I do believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you then can start to put into practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

For me, as I stare down 47, I can honestly say that my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

 5. I’ve Learned There Is No Expiration Date On Your Dreams

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

That quote is attributed to writer George Eliot. I attribute it to my Grampa. For you see I have that quote handwritten from him on a piece of paper sticking out of a mirror. I see it every day and remember the reason why he wrote it.

I had wanted to be a writer from the time I was 8. Over the years my dreams morphed into singer/songwriter, film director, poet, novelist, travel writer, podcaster, and finally where it is today, content creator. That is a sort of catch-all. It means I want to use my mind to craft works that people enjoy and will hopefully pay for.

My dreams of being totally self-employed as a content creator drive me. I like being a trainer but if I got the opportunity to work only for myself I’d do it in a heartbeat. I am in my late-40’s now and that still is the case. Dreams shouldn’t have a shelf life. If you truly want something and truly believe in it you should keep pursuing it. There are times when the content I create (podcasts, blogs, videos, etc) is the only thing that makes me happy.

I have had many times that I thought I was close to achieving this self-sufficient dream only to fall short and fall back. There have been times I’ve thought about giving up on a dream and falling in line with some mundane unfulfilling job just to make money. Then I think of those words my Grampa wrote for me.

I had 4 published books at the time, was a few months from turning 40, and was still having to work a full-time day job to make ends meet. I told Grampa that I didn’t know if I’d ever get to where I wanted to be. He wrote those words down. He said that even though he didn’t come up with them those words were what he believed and they were what I should believe, especially on the days when I felt less than.

Today I have 9 published books, hundreds of podcasts videos, and blogs. I still have to work a day job though. At this point, it is a mix of stubbornness and fear that keeps me going. I have come so far that I am always of the mindset that the big break is just a moment away. I also have had many friends and family who have supported me and I fear letting them down by giving up.

Maybe tomorrow something major will happen. Maybe it won’t. I feel that as long as I am on that road that the chance is always there. You don’t have to want to be a writer, content creator, or anything like that. Whatever your dream is, your real dream, keep chasing it because the only time you truly fail is when you give up.

Next: Part 6 - You Are In Charge Of Your Own Life, Nobody Is Coming To Save You.

Previous: Part 4 - Nothing Is Guaranteed and Sometimes A Step Back Can Move You Forward

What I've Learned In My 40s(so far): 4. Nothing Is Guaranteed and Sometimes A Step Back Can Move You Forward

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I do believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you then can start to put into practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

For me, as I stare down 47, I can honestly say that my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

4. I’ve Learned That Nothing Is Guaranteed and That Sometimes It Takes A Step Back To Move You Forward

I spent years, too many years, working in the restaurant industry. Don’t get me wrong it was a time when I met so many important people in my life. I don’t regret it in general. I just regret that I stayed until I was bitter and angry at my own lack of movement.

In 2015 I decided to take a chance and leave cooking to become a personal trainer. I figured since I was at the gym 5+ days a week and knew my way around the equipment I could use that knowledge to help others become better versions of themselves.

I worked full-time while also going to classes over the weekend to become a trainer. It was new to me as far as how to make it a career. Up until then it was guaranteed hours cooking. They were tough hours and a lot of them were spent under high pressure, but they were always there.

In training, I learned right away that nothing was guaranteed. There was no guarantee that someone would want to pay to train with the ‘new guy.’ There was no guarantee of hours at jobs since these gyms only see trainers as valuable when they are in the actual act of training someone. These things forced me to change my view on my new career in short order.

Rather than committing to one gym, I worked at 2. Both of these were very part-time. This meant that during some weeks I’d work less between the 2 jobs than I did in half a week cooking. I had to keep pushing ahead. I held out hope that as I gained experience I would be seen as a trainer that people could count on to help them.

As much as I was determined to give personal training my best effort there was something that threatened to derail my commitment. Money. As I said there were no guarantees. I got paid more when I trained someone, and it was good money. I liken it to a server getting tips from tables they wait on. When you’re not waiting a table your wage is practically nothing. That is the struggle of training. Not only was I working part-time between 2 jobs but much of my time was getting paid about 2/3 of what I was making hourly cooking. Fewer hours, less money, it was the freight train coming through the tunnel.

I didn’t know how broke I was until I was on my lunch break at one of my gym jobs. I had walked to a nearby supermarket to buy a protein bar and bottled water. When my debit card was declined it was a cold shot of reality. I couldn’t afford water and a protein bar. I had to return the water.

I had a brief resurgence when I reopened a credit card I had closed a few years earlier. This was quickly maxed out to pay rent and bills. Within a matter of weeks, I was back where I was before, unable to buy food and likely a week away from not having enough money to pay any bills or rent. My lowest point came when I had to borrow money from a client I was training. I didn’t ask, but she had seen a social media post where I had vented a little. She reached out and made the offer and I had to swallow a lot of pride and accept the money.

This couldn’t continue. By this point I had been a trainer for 2 ½ years, I had turned 40 and didn’t know how much longer I could go on before I had to give up. I was working at 1 gym at this point and remember it like yesterday. It was May 2018 and I asked my boss for more hours as I was having a lot of trouble making ends meet. He said ‘bring in more clients and I’ll give you more hours.’ I knew then that a change was coming.

I was thrown a lifeline by an old friend I had cooked with a few years earlier. He had moved on to cooking in a retirement home but was now leaving there to move to Maine. He asked me if I wanted his job. Going back to cooking after 2 ½ years away was not what I had thought I’d have to do. However, it was again guaranteed hours and guaranteed money. Plus cooking in a retirement home sounded far less stressful than Cape Cod restaurants in the summer.

One interview later and I had the job. All that was left was telling my boss at the gym that I was out. I was surprised at how surprised he was at my news. I told him it was 100% financial and that I had asked him for hours but he needed to have strings attached to it. I wasn’t giving up on being a personal trainer but at that point, I had to take a step back to go forward.

Cooking in a retirement home was definitely a change of pace. It was new yet familiar. The people I worked with there were fun and helpful and made me not feel like a failure for having to step back into a position I thought I’d left behind. I did keep my toes in the training pool though.

One thing about being a trainer is that when you work with people trying to improve their lives you develop a relationship, a trust. When I got ready to leave my gym job I had to break the news to my clients. Several of them asked me to train them in their homes. My boss at the gym was a former used car salesman. He had no idea of what it was to be a trainer so he thought I could be replaced and none of my clients would bat an eye. That was wrong.

A few people had to switch trainers as I simply didn’t have the time to take on more than a handful of clients. The icing on the cake for me, when it came to the ignorance of my now-former boss, was when it came to one particular client I was to train in-home.

She had worked with me through her first pregnancy and when she returned to the gym she found it hard to get to the gym with a newborn. Training in-home was the perfect solution. My old boss had the hair-brained scheme of sending a new trainer to her house to work with her. Needless to say, she was not having that.

In-home training taught me how to essentially run my own training business and craft workouts all on my own. In time I would leave cooking again and take another swipe at personal training as my main job. This time had far better results.

However, there is a big difference between a job and a passion. I enjoy being a trainer but my passion, my dream, has always been something different.

Remember that nothing is forever. Just because you fail, or feel like you've failed, does not mean that is the end of the story. I believe it was the band Semisonic who said 'Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.' 

Next: Part 5 - There Is No Expiration Date On Your Dreams

Previous: Part 3 - There's No Textbook For Dealing With Grief and Loss

What I've Learned In My 40s(so far): 3. There's No Textbook For Dealing With Grief and Loss

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I do believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you then can start to put into practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

For me, as I stare down 47, I can honestly say that my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

What I've Learned In My 40s(so far): 2. Learning To Let Go of Toxic People, Even Those Close To You

 

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I do believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you then can start to put into practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

For me, as I stare down 47, I can honestly say that my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

2. I’ve learned that it is sometimes necessary to let go of toxic people in one's life, even if those people are immediate family.

I tend to push my feelings to the side for the sake of others. I am an empath through and through which is a good trait to have. Being able to feel what someone else is going through can help you understand and be supportive of them. It can also cause people to look past you and take you for granted.

Too many times in my life I have heard some form of the phrase ‘you have to deal with so-and-so because they’re family.’ That’s a lie. If someone’s presence in your life is actively hurting you then you don’t ‘have’ to allow them in your life.

I gave my father 40 years to show me something. Anything. He was given a long leash, and a thousand ‘second chances’ because he was my father. My parents divorced when I was 4. My father had been out of the house since probably a year before then. When I would see him as a kid he was more of a guy trying to be a cool older friend rather than a male role model to help shape who I would become. Notice I said when I would see him.

I had wanted to have a father like so many of my other friends had. Someone who taught them things. Someone who supported their goals. Someone who was actually in their lives. My father didn’t want any of those things. He wanted as little responsibility as possible.

This manifested itself in devastating ways. It was there when he would no-show picking me up for a visit when he said he would when I was a small child. It was there when he quit multiple jobs rather than pay below the minimum for child support. You know the money that would go to supporting your child? This meant for all intents and purposes he didn’t care if I had food, medical care, clothing, you name it.

I mentioned in the previous section that he would stop at the liquor store on drives home from work. He helped get me that job as a dishwasher/food prep. This meant that he also knew I was making money. This allowed him to ask for money constantly. Not to help with living expenses. No, he’d ask his 15-year-old son for money to buy alcohol and cigarettes. At one point he cleaned out my entire savings, well over $1,200, with the promise of payback in full. He might have paid back 75% and then never brought it up again.

The older I got the more I began to see with my own eyes who my father was. The more I was able to make the choice for myself the more I chose not to associate with him. I wanted a father but what I had was a lazy, selfish drunk who prioritized buying beer over his kids having their basic needs met.

After my Nana died in 2009 I stuck my neck out and got him a job at the same restaurant as me. This was me doing right by my Nana. He repaid me by no-call, no-showing 5 straight days about a month or so after starting the job. Can you imagine the embarrassment of knowing that your father cared so little that he just bailed on a job his son got him? My coworkers promised that didn’t make them see me any differently, but come on, it was humiliating.

From 2010 until I turned 40 in 2017 I saw my father very rarely. As I started having events for my books that I released, or road races, he was never there. I had loads of family at these events, not my father. There was always an excuse. He should have just been honest and said ‘you’re not important enough to me for me to try.’

My final straw came not too long before I turned 40. My father had a medical event that landed him in the ER. Despite being relatively estranged I was there with him like a good son. I was there as the doctors checked him out.

The doctor told my father he would make a full recovery but he needed to cut down and eventually cut out alcohol and cigarettes. By this point, I had switched careers and was a personal trainer. I promised the doctor and my father that I could help him with exercise and some nutrition advice. This was the last-second miracle I had wanted. I would finally have the father I had wanted. Better late than never.

He tapered down booze and cigarettes but only temporarily. Within a few weeks of getting out of the hospital, he was chugging beer and smoking like a chimney as if the medical issue had never happened.

That was it. I told him flat out that since he obviously didn’t care then I didn’t care either. I gave him until I turned 40 but I was done trying to force myself to have a father who only cared about himself. Only one person in the family, an aunt, tried to push the ‘but he’s family’ line on me. Everyone else understood why I was cutting my father out.

Flash forward to the present time and my father resides in a nursing and rehabilitation facility. His brazen ignoring of doctor’s recommendations in 2017 caught up with him. He had both of his legs amputated at the knees due to his incessant smoking and drinking. It would have been gut-wrenching if he had been even a subpar father.

In my eyes, he is living his karma. When I needed a father growing up he couldn’t have cared less. He only saw me when I visited my Nana’s house and that’s because he was living there. In fact, when I was still very young he had told my mother he was willing to waive all parental rights to me and my sister so that he wouldn’t have to pay child support.

It was only when my mother said that my Nana would lose all visitation rights as well that my father relented. Finding out that info as an adult should have been traumatizing. To me, it was par for the course. Why would I give one inch of space inside my mind to a man who prioritized beer and cigarettes over his children? And also why would I give one second of my time to visit such a reprehensible human? As far as I am concerned my father does not exist and as far as I am concerned it can stay that way for the rest of his miserable life.

Do not feel as though you have to keep a toxic, painful relationship going because someone is family. Sometimes the pain of having them in your life is greater than the pain of removing them from it.

Next: Part 3 - Learning there is no textbook for dealing with grief and loss

Previous: Part 1 - Being A Slave to a Demon, and Also Slaying That Demon

What I’ve Learned In My 40’s(so far): 1. Being A Slave to a Demon, and Also Slaying That Demon

 

I turned 40 on November 2, 2017. There is an old saying that ‘life begins at 40.’ I used to think that was just something middle-aged people said to make them feel younger. Maybe that is a part of it. I do believe that the wisdom behind that saying is that you spend those first 39 years accumulating all kinds of knowledge that you then can start to put into practice when you hit the Big 4-0.

For me, as I stare down 47, I can honestly say that my 40s so far have been the most difficult and also rewarding decade of my life. I never thought I’d find a time where I’d feel more unsure, insecure, lost, and yet filled with optimism. My teens used to be the benchmark until my 40s.

I’ve learned a lot in my life. Some of it has been useful as I’ve aged. A lot has been pointless. No amount of studying prepares you for coming to grips with your own aging, your own mortality, or your own demons. No amount of preparation can soften the blow of loss and grief. My 40s have been a trial by fire. They have seen me dropped in hostile environments mentally with no survival gear and having to learn on the fly.

So what have I learned in my 40s so far? A lot.

1. I’ve learned what it’s like to be a slave to a demon, and also what it’s like to slay that demon.

Alcoholism has been a part of my life since I started making memories. Until I hit 40 however it was always a cautionary tale dealing with others. My father was an alcoholic from as far back as I remember. I can’t remember a time when he didn’t have an open can of beer and a cigarette sitting in an ashtray. The smell of smoke and the sound of him belching loudly was as much a part of my Sundays at my Nana’s as Wiffle ball games and hot dogs and beans.

As I grew older and my connection to my father faded further away I made a decision to not become an alcoholic to spite him. My greatest fear in my adult life was hearing someone tell me I was just like my father. I couldn’t help if I looked like him or sounded like him but I could make sure I didn’t wind up a drunk like him. It wasn’t that easy.

I enjoyed having a few drinks once in a while in my 20s and 30s. Every so often I’d overdo it and wind up with a hangover but those events were the exception, not the rule. I feared the alcoholism gene being switched on when I was in my 20s. I can still remember being 21 and sitting in the living room at our house on Broadway in West Yarmouth. I had a 6-pack of some sort of winter-flavored beer and was knocking them back when my mother gave me a stern warning.

She mentioned the gene. She also mentioned that she had gone through dealing with an alcoholic with my father at roughly the same age I was then. My mother said she would not go through that with me. That triggered the fear. The fear of becoming my father’s son was more powerful than the beer, at least at that point.

I kept it in check until I hit 40. It was the death of one of my oldest friends Matt a few weeks before Christmas in 2017 that gave the alcohol the opening it needed. In looking for a way to dull the pain of the grief I turned to a friend I swore I’d never turn to. The only difference between 21-year-old me sitting at Broadway with a 6-pack, and 40-year-old with a pile of vodka nips, was that there was nobody to hold me accountable.

The booze helped me cope with Matt’s death, or at least that was my reasoning. I still wasn’t an alcoholic, I was just a sad person who had lost a friend. These are the lies you tell yourself when you know you’re going down a bad path. There’s always an excuse.

My routine barely wavered for nearly 3 years. I was in a liquor store every day, except if I grabbed enough to last me 2 days. I had preferences on what I bought to drink and didn’t stray from them. In fact, if I switched up my order the folks at the liquor stores would remark about it. That’s how familiar they were with me, they knew my daily haul. Being confronted with this I would frequent a different liquor store for a while rather than taking it as a sign that alcohol was too big of a part of my life.

I used to shake my head in disapproval when my father would stop at a liquor store on the ride home from work every single time he drove me home. Now here I was in my 40s, the same age he was then, doing the exact same thing. I was more like him than I ever thought. A lot of sons want to follow in their father’s footsteps. It’s just too bad that my father’s footsteps always led to a liquor store or the unemployment line.

Sure I could blame the deaths of friends and family. I could blame the financial hardship brought on by taking a chance at a career change. I could blame hitting 40. The truth is that I didn’t want to stop drinking. It was a warm blanket of detachment. If I was drinking every night I didn’t have to actually do the work of dealing with all of the issues I just mentioned. The fact that ended up quitting drinking and have been sober for over 4 years shows that I could have done it if I had truly wanted to.

Maybe I say that with 20/20 hindsight. I don’t know. I think there were times during my time as a functioning alcoholic when I was angry and embarrassed that I seemingly had no self-control or self-respect. These times were typically not long after I’d finished my nightly allotment of booze, or first thing the next morning. By early afternoon though all was forgiven and I was back in line at the packie. Thankfully those days are now long gone but for a while, it felt like the demon was my master.

Next: Part 2 - Learning To Let Go of Toxic People, Even Those Close To You