The Discomfort of Progress

“Embrace the discomfort of progress.”

I think of this notion often – especially thinking back to when I was an active alcoholic, drinking 8-10 beers and a bottle of wine per day.  My body was accustomed to the abuse – and each day around 10am, I would start sweating with feelings of anxiety – and the only relief was the bottle. 

You see, I was so consumed by my addiction – that I thought alcohol was helping my anxiety and other health conditions, as opposed to creating the problems.  I ran to the one thing that was destroying my life – while running away from those who knew I needed help and loved me.  In hindsight, I feel so guilty for not seeing the issues I was causing for those I loved.  If there is one silver-lining, my oldest daughter, Lila, was too young to remember the smell of cheap liquor on my breath – and the stench of incompetence and despair when I took her to the park drunk at 2pm on a Tuesday.

I felt beaten down, and tired.  I looked at my then 5-year-old daughter and committed to breaking the cycle of addiction that burdens my family.  My Uncle Johnny and Aunt Mary-Ann both died of heroin overdoses at a young age – and both of my sisters have struggled with heroin and prescription pills.  Both are still deep into their addictions – but my older sister is especially in bad shape, and I just don’t know how much longer she will live.  It breaks my heart that her two sons must live without their mother – and try to cope with the fact she has chosen drugs and dangerous men over being in their lives.  She just missed her oldest son’s high-school graduation, and as I write this entry, I cry for that young man who is achieving so many goals despite the lack of parental guidance.

With alcohol, I had the perception that I could “function” or since it’s a legal substance, it’s “no big deal.”  That can’t be farther from the truth.  Alcohol impacted my brain to the extent, 7-years later, it’s still healing, I believe.  The scariest side effect of chronic alcohol consumption was I lost my ability to feel emotions, outside of the love I felt for my child.  When she was away with her mother, I was useless.  I was hopeless, and I was sad.  I didn’t care much for myself at that point – but the love for Lila kept me going to work, hiding my addiction and somehow holding things together just enough to finally make the right decision. 

Now, seven years after quitting – I am certainly in a much clearer space, with a lot more energy, and thank God I can feel emotions at a high level again.  I cry during almost every Disney movie – and when I hug my family, it feels so warm.

I decided to embrace the discomfort of progress.  It’s easy to get drunk every-day – or eat like crap and be on the fast track to Diabetes/Hypertension.  It’s easy to roll-up doobies and puff-puff pass with the dudes, instead of getting up early for work, then hitting the gym.  Nothing, and I mean NOTHING that is amazing will be easy.  Nothing worthwhile happens when your mind and body is not in motion.  Progress comes through adversity – and adversity comes when you get out of your comfort zone.

If I kept drinking, and COVID hit – I am fairly certain I would be dead, or the equivalent.  But today, I will pick up my oldest from middle-school, then come home to my partner and baby-girl to give them big hugs.  Massive embraces!  Then, off to basketball practice – then home again to cook dinner and have fun with the family.  A bottle of cold beer sounds good – and I think of it often – but nothing feels better than knowing you have big responsibilities, and nothing builds more confidence than knowing you can uphold those obligations.  It’s priceless!