There’s a chill in the air this morning. It’s 6 AM; I’m up with only the rooster and my dog. This part of the day is my favorite: it’s quiet, crisp from the darkness that just broke, and contemplative.
Since I was a young kid, I’ve wanted to own my slice of western folklore: a dude ranch.
I wanted a decent herd and a few horses, a good dog, a wife, an old truck, and a cabin sitting on a few thousand acres tucked beneath the Rocky Mountains with a stream somewhere in there. It’s the American Dream.
I’ve lived this mountain life (not the ranch life — I never did get my thousand acres with horses and cows. I did get the wife, the good dog, the old truck, and a stream, however) for a decade now. And…
I left home at seventeen. As I packed up my childhood room, a lump in my throat, I knew I would be back “home” in just four short years; after I finished my schooling. Four years turned into seven turned into eighteen. It’s been eighteen years since I’ve lived in Tennessee or since I’ve been around family and childhood friends. Time flies when you’re inventing yourself.
After college, I moved to Atlanta, met a girl, fell in love, and decided to chase my dreams out west. …
A weird place that has challenged me, questioned me, loved me, and healed me. From this spring board, I’m ready to take on what’s next. I couldn’t have done it without you, Crestone.
Six weeks ago, my wife and I decided that it was time to move back to my home state of Tennessee. After Covid, we wanted to be closer to family, closer to friends, closer to work, and surrounded by a familiar environment. But first, I must tell you about Crestone.
For a decade, we’ve lived and played in Colorado and it’s become home to us. Four years ago we moved to the magical town of Crestone, Colorado and I would be remiss to not thank her for the journey she’s taken me on.
Crestone is a tiny town tucked on…
If you’re thinking about quitting alcohol, go ahead and do it already. I decided that I was done on March 28th of this year. After many touch-and-go decisions in my life, I realized that alcohol wasn’t doing me any favors. It had been a long journey to get to that point, but now that I’m on the other side of problematic drinking, I will never go back.
Life now is so full, so dreamy, and I’m — for the first time in my life — chasing dreams I never imagined would come true.
My wife and I just put in…
AINYF SHORTS
Five facts that you need to consider before your next drink.
Ethanol, also known as alcohol, ethyl alcohol, or drinking alcohol, is a neurotoxin. It’s a psychoactive drug, and nearly all of us commonly dose ourselves with it.
Ethanol is a flammable, volatile, and colorless liquid that smells and tastes awful by itself. We use ethanol in antiseptics, solvents, medical wipes, and an anti-bacterial treatment. Why? Because it kills organisms. It’s found in paints, tinctures, markers, and perfume.
The largest single use of ethanol is as engine fuel.
And you’re drinking it.
Ethanol is linked to many forms of cancer. It destroys our health and it destroys lives.
I know what…
I’ve been sober for forty days. My journey, however, started two years ago. This isn’t a story of falling on and off the wagon. There’s a little bit of that in my past, sure. This is a story of unintended sobriety. A two-year journey of holistic healing. A story about how quitting alcohol is the easiest part of getting sober.
My wife and I used to have a recurring fight. It usually started by me asking her to grab something from the other room, her saying she was busy and couldn’t right now, and me blowing up.
Yes, it was that stupid.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that her not doing something for me — something simple — triggered the feeling of neglect and abandonment that stemmed from my childhood. And boy, was that feeling overwhelming.
We all drink because of our traumas.
Growing up, my parents worked all of the time. They divorced when I was…
Most people consider rock bottom to mean homelessness, street corners, begging, and brown paper sacks. My high-functioning addiction kept me prisoner far longer than societally accepted rock bottom ever did.
I want to first start by saying that I’m a bit nervous to share this story. I thought would just live between me and my wife and eventually become dormant there. We’d move on from it. However, after reading and learning more about sobriety, I think I need to share this story with the hopes that you’re reading this because you need to hear it. I also know now that in order to move on, you have to claim it as your own.
You not considering yourself an “alcoholic” will keep you trapped in your perpetual cycle of problematic (see…
One Month Sober: What I’ve Learned so Far.
Amazingly, I’ve learned more about myself in a month sober than I did in the two years prior. I use two years as a reference because that’s when I started therapy and my entire life began to morph. Therapy has been outstanding for me, sobriety has been better. While I’m new to sober living, I’m committed. These are the lessons I’ve learned in the first month:
You need a support system.
You absolutely cannot do this alone. You may be able to white-knuckle it for a few days, but sobriety is a communal effort. You need to have people to…
For thirty years, I craved more. Only after many years of self-work and self-discovery did I realize that they key to my happiness was less.
I live three and a half hours away from a city. The nearest town with a stoplight is an hour’s drive through mountain canyons and over an 11,000ft pass. In the winter, it’s impassable most of the time without four-wheel drive. Amazon Prime takes a week, usually, and sometimes more with the shipping delays caused by Covid. We’re a tiny town of 2,000 mountain folks at the end of the road. Life here isn’t convenient. It certainly isn’t easy, and that’s just fine with me. Life here is wild.
Growing up, life was about convenience. Convenience meant success because it…
The universe stepped in and saved me from my alcoholism
When I was six, we were visiting my grandparents in Mississippi. They were recently divorced and no one had heard from my grandfather for a few days. My mother, worried, hurried over to his trailer, and what she would find there forever re-shaped the trajectory of my family’s history.
Lying on the floor was her father, dead for a few days, clutching a handle of cheap vodka having choked on his own vomit. I wasn’t there, of course, but from what I was told later in life it was an absolutely brutal scene. His trailer was a complete disaster: crawling…
