Don't Like It? Get Better.

The Second Smartest Thing I Ever Did

17 years ago, I did the smartest thing I’ve ever done and said hello to the pretty girl in the Ohio State sweater.

Now I have two kids and live in Ohio.

That’s some shit.

The second smartest thing I ever did was quit drinking, which was now 4 years ago this week.

I’ll spare you the sad details, but I was in a bad spot. I was a shell of myself. I was unhealthy in body, mind and soul.

Worst of all, I blamed everybody but myself.

It all came to a head one day 4 years ago, right when Covid was beginning to get crazy. My oldest son (Jacqueline was pregnant at the time with the second) was playing with blocks and smashing and crashing them together.

Nursing an acute hangover and seeking silence, I sharply told him to keep it down.

Let’s say that again to make sure we’re all on the same page here: I told my son to be quiet while he was playing with blocks on the floor, bothering absolutely nobody.

Instantly disgusted with myself, I walked to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

It was then and there when I realized the awful truth.

As I looked in the mirror at what I’d become, I felt ashamed and horrified. The only thing was, this was no movie. That long look in the mirror wasn’t followed by a 2-minute montage when the hero of the story rises above the challenge.

There was nothing but me and that repugnant feeling of self-loathing that I hope you’ve never personally experienced. I was living in quiet desperation.

Looking at a shell of myself, I angrily thought “Is THIS what you were going for? Is this what you wanted to do with yourself? Is this IT?”

I then took a picture of myself. It was a picture of a person I would never be again. It’s also the thumbnail for this week.

It would be years before I’d learn to forgive myself, but in that moment I resolved to save myself.

And I’d come real close to ruining all that mattered to me. But I didn’t.

Without saying a word, I put my shoes on and went on a run around the neighborhood. I was in a sad shape, so it was more of a shuffle than a run.

By the time I got home, I’d decided that was the last hangover I would have. Ever.

I’d decided to take responsibility for myself. I’d decided to get off the mat and reclaim my life.

And so I got to work.

I didn’t announce anything. There was no social media post about “Day 1 LFG”.

Instead of the lonely and comfortable path to hell, I started digging my way back into the light.

And I told nobody.

I finally understood and accepted that I got myself into this mess, and I would have to be the one to get myself out.

I didn’t do it all alone though. I got help. I didn’t tell anyone about that either. Perhaps understandably, perhaps not, I was ashamed. I felt weak. I felt shallow. And in an Instagram world where we only show our best sides I felt like an abject failure.

“One day at a time” is one of those victims of good phrasing in that it’s become cliché.

But the truth is, it works.

Whether it’s one day at a time to stop an addiction, write for 500 days straight, or become the kind of person who can run ultramarathons in the mountains…

The four years since that day have been among the happiest and most consequential of my life.

I didn’t just go back to the person I was before. I started becoming the person I could be.

I started working on what mattered most to me instead of spending my time trying to convince the world I already did.

It wasn’t too late for me.

And if you need transformation in your life, it’s not too late for you.

Thanks for reading.

“One of the illusions of life is that the present hour is not the critical, decisive hour.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Live triumphantly. See you next week.