The first time someone said that to me, it was a bartender at a place I hadn’t been to in a few months. It seemed to me a cool way to say, “Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age thought you had died.”.

So, to everyone who may have thought I died, I didn’t. I just disappeared into a deep dark place. I am talking depression, aggravated by excessive alcohol consumption.

My father is an alcoholic, my brother is an alcoholic. I am an alcoholic. I was going to say, “I guess”, but there is no guessing. It is a fact. Today I went to work with the worst headache and feeling like I was going to puke. Yes, hungover.

My reason for writing this here is I know I should quit. So far, I haven’t been able to. Writing it down means, I must think about it. I must face the fact that the amount of alcohol I consume on a weekly basis will kill me. It’s not a maybe or an if. It’s a when.

When I first thought about writing this post, I had a lot more in my head. Now that I have started it, all the pretty words have deserted me. Now I am staring at this screen wondering if I should post it. Do I want the world to know? Oh that’s right, I have 5 maybe 6 people that read this.

Signing off. B