this is as much about my brother as it was about my father. My big bro struggled to find some kind of sobriety, but then found out, as you did, that what had driven him to drink rose up in full view when there was nothing there to veil it.

As someone with food and compulsive food addictions in my history, I’d be quick to admit that I was just as drunk wielding my Mastercard as ever you were shrieking into the mike on Karaoke night. What’s key, I think, is to own our shit. Drunk is drunk. What that means to thee or me or anyone else makes no difference. We are by definition out of fucking control.

Some guy on Medium wrote a while back that we’re supposed to be happy all the time. Suffice it to say, that is not only rather childish, but’s it’s patently wrong. I might also suggest that chasing happiness for its own sake, particularly if you and I are running hell bent for leather away from a pain source, is precisely what drives many of us to our addictions. They are so much of the time nothing more than distractions from emotional stress.

Great article, John.

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Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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