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Writer's pictureJamie Lee

getting dirty.

Updated: Jan 2, 2021

well, if you've made it to page two, i guess you're down with getting dirty, and hearing the truth. like, the real truth. so page two is going to be about my struggles with drugs & alcohol. why today and why drinking - well the truth is i read a cool article about chrissy teigen and her decision to stop drinking yesterday, wrote this and didn't publish it because i was scared, but felt then felt like a fraud having a blog dedicated to authenticity and not publishing it...whatver you get the point deal with it.


my decision to stop drinking wasn't my own. well, i guess i did end up actioning it, but getting it across the finish line was with my wife and family's help. in its truest form, it was the physical act of being sent to a treatment (rehab) center in san francisco. let's be real for a second: I spent the better part of twenty years abusing alcohol and drugs, and I spent the last two or three (five?), desperately trying to rid my life of them. near the end, especially in the years after my dad died, it got pretty bad. bad is what wasps say when they really mean scary, humiliating, life-threatening? healthy, i know. you must remember that the Wasp flag, at all costs, is to be defended, by making sure everything is "OK", to any and all external (internal?) audiences. Really just let your freak flag fly there, wasps….


to defend myself, though, in thirty seconds or less, I tried like a demon to moderate my use. i tried cutting liquor. i tried cutting wine. i tried cutting beer. i tried mixing kombucha (sp?) with beer (it's fermented and hey, it's like….organic, right?) I tried drinking "hard seltzers". I tried mixing actual seltzer water with hard seltzer . i think, mathematically at least, you could continue this path ad infinitum, eventually drinking some strange brew with 0.00000001% alcohol? maybe this is why people drink mouthwash. lets be straight though, i really tried hard. i really, fucking, tried. in any event…..


it was the morning of august 18th, 2020, when i saw my whole family walking up the driveway to my house in block island. this, of course, wouldn't have been notable except for the fact that they looked like a funeral procession (why did mom's sunglasses seem so black?). The choice to wear "nice clothing" on block island on an absolutely suffocating 95 degree summer day didn't exactly help their case. the not so-subtle addition to this mournful band of travelers was a man i didn't know, which didn't help either, nor did his gold buttoned blazer or ill fitting slacks. it took all of about maybe four (two?) seconds to realize that this was indeed an intervention.


in any event, I don't want to go too deep down the recovery rabbit hole. because God knows I have been given enough ammo between a month of rehab, over 100 hours of therapy in four months (yes, I counted. if you're curious that is 7% of waking hours spent thinking and deliberating and talking about myself and my problems anxieties and fears. and i couldn't be more grateful that it happened). what's important now is that i am clean, i am sober, my head is CLEAR, and its pretty fucking rad.



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