One Last Blowout - 9 Years Ago Today!

Sober and grateful ever since

Hello. You’ve reached Time & Temperature.

I had my last drink on this day nine years ago in a hotel room in London. I’d been experimenting with sobriety since the day after Easter of 2015, and I knew that it was time for me to live without alcohol. Even so I’d been cajoled back into the bar a few times for “one last blowout.” That night in London turned out to be it.

(On stage in London, the day of my last hangover)

The 97’s were in London for a gig the at The Borderline (RIP) in SoHo on 12 July, and we had the night before off. I took my wife out to a very nice dinner and thought it would be the perfect opportunity for one last evening of drinking, nothing crazy just a bottle of wine shared at a posh restaurant. Once we were back at the hotel and she’d fallen asleep I found the pint bottle of whiskey in the minibar. I sat in the darkened hotel room and drank the whole thing.

This is how it seemed to always go for me, as long as I was drinking or smoking I might as well drink or smoke a lot. Whenever I saw someone pull out one of those miniature airplane bottles, I used to wonder how the hell they could possibly be satisfied with such a tiny amount. I needed it all. That night I got it. But it was as if I was forcing myself to go through the motions of a ritual that no longer contained any pleasure. The SoHo streetlights I watched through the window doubled and tripled, but I did the work of raising and emptying the glass. This is who I was and my whole identity was tied up in that Sisyphean task.

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I wish I could say that the next day was miserable, that my hangover rendered me catatonic, but I was merely dehydrated and cranky which wasn’t anything new. I groused and muttered, but made it to soundcheck, and I was good to go by the time the gig got underway. We rocked as usual.

Fortunately I was finally done. I went to some meetings and leaned on friends who had been through it before me. Mostly, I was just ready. It was time.

When it’s time you’ll know. Some part of you will know. You can try to shut that voice up by drowning it. But deep down you’ll still know.

Here I am, nine years removed from that last pint of whiskey, and I have never once regretted choosing to live sober. My life isn’t perfect, but my mind is clear. My mornings whisper where they once raged. My heart hums where it once burned. I have spent these nine years processing the difficult parts of the human experience rather than pushing them down into the darkness. It’s hard, sure, but usually the thing that’s most difficult offers the greatest reward.

As I write this, I find myself on a multi-family vacation celebrating graduations, matriculations and ascents into adulthood. I spent the second half of these kids’ childhoods fully present, unclouded and mostly not-cranky. And here we are sending them off into the world. On this beach vacation, I’m often the only sober person in our large group. I laugh and carry on. I enjoy the company of friends and family. I might even dance. I’m not missing out in the least—in fact quite the opposite.

I’m happy to have my life back, to have wrested control from the greedy, thirsty demon who always needed more. Who needed all of it.

There are folks out there for whom drinking has become a problem. Perhaps they feel trapped and helpless. They are not. You are not. If you think that by giving up booze you will be giving up happiness, please hear me when I say that idea couldn’t be further from the truth. You think you need it, but that’s just a story you’re telling yourself. You are strong and you’ll only get stronger by choosing to live without booze in your life. Your loved ones will thank you. Your only regret will be that you waited as long as you did for that one last blowout. Love yourself. You deserve it.

yrs,

Rhett