A Reflection On Rejection; Nineteen Years Of Changing Gears ~ Pt. 3

PART THREE

This thought process went on for the next few months as I tossed around the possibility of even attempting this change. After all, as I mentioned I'd already failed numerous times prior to this so what would make this time any different. How could I even begin to hope to make it stick. Talk about pre-planning my own defeat. Guilty as charged.

And yet, that nagging feeling inside that something had to change continued to linger on inside my head. As well as that little pain in the ass voice that usually goes along with a nagging feeling inside. Both of those in tandem were beginning to beat me down, from the inside, where it's nearly impossible to fight back.

It was at this point that I came to the conclusion that perhaps I was asking too much of myself. To change my entire lifestyle, after having it ingrained in me for more years than I could count, might just be too much to ask. Of anyone. It was at that point I reached a concession of sorts, a happy medium as it were.

I basically had two bad habits, two best friends that I needed to say goodbye to and so my thought was that if I could at least give up one of those rituals, wouldn't that mean that my life would at least see a 50% improvement rating? Wouldn't that equate to a 50% improvement in myself? A great start to a better me anyway.

And so with that I made a decision to eliminate one of my bad habits. Ahhhhh, but which one. That was the question. I had indulged in both for an equal amount of time and was extremely fond of both. Choosing which one to kick to the curb over the other would not be an easy task.

To be honest, at this point it's a bit fuzzy as to how I actually came to a conclusion but I believe it was more of a process of elimination as opposed to a willing choice. Yep, it came down to which one I just couldn't see any way of living without. Which form of self medicating could I even fathom a day, a week or hopefully even longer without.

As it turned out, alcohol was the lucky winner over pot and so on March 6th, 2006 I made the decision to stop drinking. That's it, cold turkey as they say. It was on! The challenge had officially begun. No ceremony, no fanfare, it was just over. From that point on, no matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I felt like I had to have a drink, drinking was no longer an option.

My nightly routine of visiting the Beach Market would cease from this point on. Adios Sergio, store owner and my long time friend. I have a feeling that had he had a flag pole out front, he definitely would have flown that flag at half mast in my honor. As is, I'm certain he struggled paying the light bill just a bit more those next few months after my departure.

Would this even be possible? This quitting drinking thing. Who knows, but one thing I did know was that I had to give it my best shot. Give it my everything and all those times I had previously failed were insignificant. Yep, this time was gonna be different. This time I was gonna pull it off. No matter what. And besides, I still had my little green buddy to fall back on if (ok, when) I needed to.

At first it was a struggle. I hadn't realized how much I had taken for granted that there would always be a beer waiting for me in the fridge. Always something to take the edge off or even just as a quick thirst quencher. But with each opening of the fridge door, there was no beer to be found. Just an empty shelf or three.

And each time the thought of popping down to the Beach Market for a 6 pack came to mind, I had to do my best to erase that thought. Which wasn't the slightest bit easy.

For the longest time my after work routine revolved around stopping by the Market and grabbin' some beer. Goin' home, slammin' a quick beer or three (since beer was now illegal on the Boardwalk so you had to pound a few before you got there) and walkin' across the street to check out the women .... oooops, I mean the waves.

I had lived at the beach for so long this routine was just ingrained in me, second nature if you will. Sure, sometimes I'd partake in my little green buddy a bit too much and never quite make it across the street but for the most part this routine played out quite often in my evenings. And for some strange reason it never really got all that old. Huh, I wonder why.

As the weeks and months passed by it occurred to me to change the rules a bit and to allow drinking back into my life, albeit with a few new rules set in place. But two seconds later I quickly remembered that I had already tried that (more than a few times) and it didn't really work for me.

Yes, towards the end of my drinking career, in an effort to curb my drinking habit even the slightest bit I had tried the ol' just one beer after work routine and without fail, the experiment failed miserably. Like the old saying goes, "One beer is too many, twelve isn't enough" and I soon found that to be all too true.

I would have one and enjoy it so much, I'd rationalize that one more would be fine. Then I would mentally split up the 6 pack in the fridge and spread it out over the next three days. That way it made it seem (in my mind anyway) as if I had my drinking under control. As if I was back in charge.

You guessed it. This would last until the second beer was finished and then it was time to split up the remaining beer over the next few days. If I only had one beer tomorrow, that would put me right back on track and my reward would be the two remaining beers the day after that. So I'd pop open the third beer and of course I enjoyed the hell out of it.

Oh no, not again! Sure enough, once that third one was finished, then I was faced with staring at a half empty six pack. Which of course wasn't the end of the world. I mean, I still had three cold ones to enjoy the next day. I mean, one the next day and two the day after that. Yeah, that's it.

Problem was, it was only 6:30 and still plenty of daylight and lots of time for a summer evening bike ride on the Boardwalk. What the hell, might as well slam another beer real quick before I head out. That would still leave me two beers for after work the next day. OK then, decision made. A quick guzzle and I'll be out the door.

Just about that time the usual low clouds and fog that typically engulf the beach every evening would begin to roll in and before you knew it, a chill would come in and the afternoons bike ride didn't seem nearly as fun as it would have been when the sun was still shining.

Luckily for me I still have a couple beers callin' my name from inside the fridge. Might as well pound another one while I'm here. By this time I'm on a roll and feelin' good. Why ruin a good afternoon by stoppin' now.

Then, with five beers already havin' gone down the hatch, what the hell's the point of saving that one last measly beer. I mean, who wants to come home the next day to just one beer, right? That's just torture, seein' that one teaser sittin' in there and knowing I'd have to stop by the Market to get more anyway (because as we all know, one beer is never enough and leads to many more). Might as well just do myself a favor and drink it now.

Ooops, big problem now. It's only 8:00 and I'm ready for another beer. Or six. Time to hop on my bike (too hammered at that point to drive) and ride on over to the Beach Market. Rinse and repeat. And all that leads me back to the reason that I can't have just one beer. Tried it numerous times and it just doesn't work.

Luckily for me, I still had my little green buddy to help me take the edge off of a bad day or add a bit of excitement to a good day. In reality, it didn't really matter what day it was. Any day was a good day for some Mary J. And for that matter, any night was alright as well.

In essence that's what ended up happening. In an effort to fill the huge void in my life left behind by the loss of my best friend alcohol, I began to rely twice as heavily on my other best friend Mary J.

So much so that I went completely into overload mode, chasing that same buzz but in a different form. Which is exactly the opposite of my original goal. I was intending to clean up my act and all I was really doing was doubling up on another addiction. Therefore, I wasn't making any true progress as far as being a better ME which was my entire reason for quitting drinking in the first place.

Over the last years of my drinking career I had become increasingly miserable as well as severely disappointed. When I say disappointed, that's to say that I was hugely disappointed in myself. In my life as well as my accomplishments. Or lack thereof.

I had always been able to accomplish pretty much anything I set my mind to but for so many years my only goals were to get and to stay as hammered as possible. And yes, while I was definitely approaching Pro status, it wasn't really in an arena I had hoped for.

No, my expectations for myself were much higher than that. Much higher. And the failure of never reaching any of my true life goals weighed heavier on my shoulders as time went by. With each passing day the feeling that it was just too late, too late to change my life for the better, became increasingly overwhelming.

In fact so much so that I just couldn't see any way out. Nor could I find any reason to really search as hard as possible to find the motivation to get out of my self imposed prison sentence.

That's when it dawned on me that finally, after all of those years, I had finally found something that was worth striving for. Was worth going through all of the anguish and the hell that I knew all too well lay ahead for me.

Of course all of the questioning, the self doubt, the wondering if this reasoning was not only valid but was of a strong enough basis that I would be able to stick it out for the long haul was screaming at me from inside my head. Despite knowing I had to quit, I still wasn't the least bit sure I could.

A Reflection On Rejection; Nineteen Years Of Changing Gears ~ Pt. 4"