Unnecessary Rants

Addiction – The Only Truly Self-Diagnosed “Disease” in the World

October 10, 2018 by Denton 3 Comments

So get this. Based on the “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders” by the American Psychiatric Association, there is no such thing as alcoholism. Instead, it is called a Severe Alcohol Use Disorder. I shit you not. In other words, the next time I go to AA, I’m going to say, “Hi, my name is Denton and I have a severe alcohol use disorder. That means I’m not an alcoholic. Because those don’t exist. That means this entire organization doesn’t exist. It’s just 83 years of LIES!!!!”

Under the classification of “Alcohol Use Disorder,” as alcoholism is now known, there are levels of severity broken down into mild, moderate, and severe “alcohol use disorder.” There are eleven symptoms that are used for criteria to determine the severity of your “alcohol use disorder.” If you have 2 or 3 symptoms, you’re mild, four or five symptoms is moderate, and six or more is a diagnosis of SEVERE “Alcohol Use Disorder.”

And before you read about these symptoms, I put “Addiction” in the title of this article instead of “Alcoholism” for a reason. All you have to do is replace the word “alcohol” with “drug” or “sex” or “junk food” or “cell phone use” and ALL of the symptoms still apply (and I’m not even a little bit joking about the cell phone addiction; plug it in these symptoms below and see if it doesn’t apply for some people.) That’s why it’s not just alcoholism that I’m addressing with this article. I’m saying that if alcoholism is a disease, then so is every other kind of addiction. So with that said, here’s the list of the eleven criteria they use to determine levels of severity:

Alcohol is often taken in larger amounts or over a longer period than was intended.
There is a persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control alcohol use.
A great deal of time is spent in activities necessary to obtain alcohol, use alcohol, or recover from its effects.
Craving, or a strong desire or urge to use alcohol.
Recurrent alcohol use resulting in a failure to fulfill major role obligations at work, school, or home.
Continued alcohol use despite having persistent or recurrent social or interpersonal problems caused or exacerbated by the effects of alcohol.
Important social, occupational, or recreational activities are given up or reduced because of alcohol use.
Recurrent alcohol use in situations in which it is physically hazardous.
Alcohol use is continued despite knowledge of having a persistent or recurrent physical or psychological problem that is likely to have been caused or exacerbated by alcohol.
Tolerance, as defined by either of the following: a) A need for markedly increased amounts of alcohol to achieve intoxication or desired effect, or b) A markedly diminished effect with continued use of the same amount of alcohol.
Withdrawal, as manifested by either of the following: a) The characteristic withdrawal syndrome for alcohol or b) Alcohol (or a closely related substance, such as a benzodiazepine) is taken to relieve or avoid withdrawal symptoms

Pretty safe to say I can stay with my original diagnosis of alcoholic, aka, “severe alcohol use disorder,” because I definitely met more than six of those criteria. But if you’ll notice, the American Psychiatric Association uses the word “disorder,” not disease. And what is the difference between a disorder and a disease, you might ask? Well, I have spent quite a bit of time trying to come up with an answer to that, but even the online dictionaries appear to not really know. Let’s put it this way: both definitions have the word “illness” in them and in some cases, they can be used interchangeably. The best I could determine was that “disorder” is broad, like saying lung disorder, while disease is specific, like asthma.

Regardless of whether or not it is alcoholism or alcohol use disorder, it is safe to say that I despise doctors and researchers with too much damn time on their hands and nothing to do but justify their salaries. I’m a f**king alcoholic, okay? You cannot offend me by calling me that. All they’re doing with this “alcohol use disorder” is trying to make alcoholics feel less shitty about themselves, but they shouldn’t. That’s part of the game with alcoholism. You absolutely SHOULD feel shitty about yourself. That shittiness helps when you finally get pissed off enough to quit or get help.

Anyway, I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately on the concept of alcoholism as a disease. Alcoholics Anonymous pushes that belief. The World Health Organization classifies alcoholism as a disease. So, too, do the American Medical Association, the American Hospital Association, the American Psychiatric Association (who also call it a disorder,) and the American College of Physicians, among others. Hell, the National Institutes of Health has an entirely separate institute just for the support, research, and attempted prevention of this “disease.” That’s a lot of smart ass people!!

That information, however, presumes that there must be other organizations in the country that do NOT classify alcoholism as a disease. And there might be. I just can’t find any. What I CAN find is a buttload of opinions from normal Joes like me to career intellectuals like Harvard professors having some issue with the classification.

Let’s start off with the reasons most organizations classify it a disease (or disorder, WTF ever.) For starters, it is technically referred to as CHRONIC disease, which essentially means that it lasts for more than 3 months and it will progressively get worse. Blah, blah, tell me something I don’t know.

One reason it is classified as a disease is because there is a genetic component. It can run in families. So can a dependency on welfare. Just saying.

Another reason alcoholism is considered a disease is that there are environmental factors that can affect the onset and seriousness of the disease. I kid you not, I read an example that said something like, “For instance, one environmental factor is whether alcohol is present in the home.” Really? We have chicken in the house. Will somebody be shoving raw breasts into my mouth without my consent, also? That’s how you get salmonella poisoning, right? I mean, based on this argument, that’s why people become alcoholics. It’s in the house, so if you don’t drink it, somebody WILL come shove it down your damn throat and force you to develop a disease.

The final reason that is even worth mentioning is that alcoholism goes through stages, kind of like stage one through stage four of cancer. The difference is that we call Hospice in during stage four of cancer. It’s a very somber but nostalgic and loving time. During stage four of alcoholism, somebody’s living under a bridge using a green loaf of bread for both a pillow and supper.

And now for the reasons people say it’s NOT a disease. The umbrella reason that all others fall under seems to be the entire “choice” argument. The alcoholic has a “choice” whether they take their first drink, just like a person can have a “choice” not to. It’s pretty hard to “catch” a “disease” when you make a “choice” not to expose yourself to it.

Falling under that umbrella are the hard-asses that say we are giving addicts an easy out and relieving them of personal responsibility by calling their condition a disease. Besides, millions of people came before them who were diagnosed with alcoholism, took responsibility for their actions, got the help they needed, and quit. There’s something to this argument. I’ve heard a lot of seasoned but sober alcoholics say that we are not responsible for our actions as alcoholics because we have a disease. Yes, hell, we ARE responsible for our actions. That argument needs to stop NOW. All we are doing with that argument is giving alcoholics an excuse when they screw up and fall off the wagon. “But, but, but, I’m not responsible. It’s my alcohol use disorder chronic disease malfunctionism disability.”

The final argument I’ll discuss here is that even though just about every medical association in America classifies alcoholism as a disease, the actual doctors do not treat it as a disease. For example, what kind of pill can they prescribe to help out an alkie? There are a few being tested now that help with symptoms of withdrawal and at least one drug that claims to help curb cravings, but nothing is approved for curing alcoholism. Besides, can’t doctors just prescribe time? Withdrawal and cravings will both go away (or at least lessen) with the passage of time. But they can’t prescribe that. There’s no money in that.

Honestly, I really could give a rat’s ass if it’s called a disease or not. That classification has some pretty profound implications within the insurance and addiction treatment communities, but since I’m part of neither, they could call alcoholism a phobia for all I care. There’s already a “fear of alcohol” phobia called methyphobia, but there isn’t a “fear of NO alcohol.” There’s some stupid phobia described as “fear of an empty glass,” but I’m going big here. If we’re calling alcoholism a phobia, it would have to be the fear of absolutely NO alcohol whatsoever. That’s terrifying to an addict. Truly terrifying. And since that phobia doesn’t exist, that means I get to name it. Let’s call it Ohmyfukinshitophobia.

We could even make it into a movie like that one about arachnophobia, but completely different. Instead of spiders multiplying and attacking us, all the beer, wine and liquor bottles would grow legs or wheels and become propelled by the very substance that they carry via little alcohol engines. Their propulsion – because they, too have developed a phobia about being consumed called consumptophobia – leads them straight to the nearest ocean in massive droves, leveling anything in their path, on a quest to live out their days bobbing up and down to the music of the seas.

Now that’s got “B” movie written all over it. Now that Sharknado is over, maybe Ian Ziering is available.

Anyway, off topic. The problem I have with alcoholism being classified a “disease” – and remember, I don’t really care one way or another – is this. It’s the argument of self-diagnosis. I probably read thirty articles about whether or not alcoholism was a disease, and I didn’t find that discussed anywhere. If it’s out there, I promise I didn’t plagiarize it. There are seriously a BUNCH of articles arguing whether or not alcoholism is a disease or not. I doubt mine is really a unique thought. But who knows, maybe it is. I think about this crap a lot, and I’ve BEEN thinking about it for two decades, so I guess somebody has to have the unique thoughts. Probably not me, though.

Except for Ohmyfukingshitophobia starring Ian Ziering. That’s ALL MINE!!!!

Anyway, from my research, here are the list of diseases, illnesses, or conditions that are commonly self-diagnosed: the common cold, headaches, head lice, menstrual cramps, skin abrasions, bug bites, and, in some cases, gluten intolerance. There are no doubt many more, but you get the idea. Not exactly a list of things that can tear a family apart, leave people in mental, physical, and financial ruin, or find you waking up from a crash with a School Crossing sign through your abdomen and three body bags nearby. And I’ve been shocked before, but I just don’t see a person under the influence of gluten or lice driving naked the wrong way down the interstate in a stolen garbage truck and barreling through a strip joint because Honey didn’t give a happy ending.

But isn’t that what is required of alcoholism and other addictions? We’re asking people to self-diagnose themselves. And really, there is no other option. If a man doesn’t want to be diagnosed, I can absolutely assure you that he will not be. EVERY addict, if they are anything like me, and I bet they are, diagnoses themselves many, many years before they ever “admit” it to anybody.

This admittance is, for all intents and purposes, a self-diagnosis of a disease, right? A normal joe – a man (or woman) you could not trust with a five dollar gift card and a promise to use it on toothpaste – is being asked to perform the duties of a medical doctor. Not only that, but he (or she) is also responsible for their own treatment plan. Do what?

When I was in my last years of active addiction, I was hiding beer and dip around the house or garage because I was already self-diagnosed and simply pushing off that treatment plan for as long as humanly possible. I was such an incorrigible liar that I had lost the trust of my wife to buy gas for my truck. I couldn’t be trusted at a gas station alone. All of my beer and dip buying was made possible by a checking account that I had hidden from my wife since the day we met. I went to work teaching high school kids hungover at least 95% of the time. I don’t remember very large chunks of my children’s lives or the first few years of my marriage.

And this is a man we want diagnosing a disease that is covered by insurance? When some of that insurance is subsidized or given tax credits by a government that spends upwards of half a TRILLION dollars a year on drug and alcohol abuse? And the only person who can actually diagnose it is the addict himself?

The short answer and the long answer are both the same on this. The answer all the way around is, “Yep. No other choice.” The addict is the ONLY person who can actually diagnose himself or herself with alcoholism or any other addiction. Even if a man overdoses or drinks himself into a coma and is rushed to the hospital, whereby a physician announces, “I diagnose this man an addict,” he’s late to the party. That addict diagnosed himself LONG ago. No addict needs a CAT scan or blood test or full cavity search to confirm their diagnosis. They already know it. And that is actually good news, believe it or not. In my opinion, it’s VERY good news for one very simple reason.

As soon as alcoholics accept that they are alcoholics (the self-diagnosis,) they have then accepted that their continued dependence after that date is a choice. It is VERY much like a sugar addiction or nicotine addiction after the self-diagnosis. Every cookie, cigarette, or beer is a choice. There really can’t be an argument to that. An alcoholic makes the choice to go to the store, makes the choice to buy the beer, makes the choice to drink a dozen, makes a choice to not stop.

And the reason all of THAT is good news is because we have a gigantic “man up” problem in this country, and I was as guilty as any addict in America for two decades. You do NOT need a doctor to tell you that you are overweight, addicted to cigarettes, an alcoholic, or addicted to boiled Pez dispensers. If you’re an addict and you’re reading this, YOU ALREADY KNOW. Time to man the f**k up and do something about it.

No doctor in America needs to run another damn blood test or give another screening test or pluck out hair follicles to determine if somebody is an addict. No doctor needs to diagnose it either. At all. Ever. And they should not sugar coat the shit and tell them they simply have an “alcohol use disorder.” That’s such bullshit. They’re addicts. But if a patient wants to discuss treatment options, by all means, they should go see their doctor. Their best bet is to find an old man who’s been sober for twenty years, but a doctor is fine, too. The first thing they should say when they walk in the door is, “Hi doc. I’m addicted to alcohol, Skoal, Marlboro Red, heroin, cinnamon rolls, and Pez dispensers. I’m ready to man the f**k up. Help me.”

That’s my big message about this entire topic. Man the f**k up. We have an enormous problem in this country. Forty million active addicts RIGHT NOW. I did some quick math and looked up the GDP of every country in the world. The amount our government spends on alcohol and drug abuse – the latest number I found was $442 billion – would be the 26th largest country in the world.

The amount of money we spend on substance abuse in one year is larger than the economies of Israel, Thailand, Norway, Austria, South Africa, and over 150 more. That’s staggering. That’s capable of crippling our economy.

Alcoholics do not need some chemist to create a pill that will “help curb their cravings.” Nicotine addicts have had one for years. It doesn’t work. Chantix makes you feel like you might bloat so badly that your internal organs might change places just to try to escape the gas. It’s an awful drug. You know what nicotine addicts need to do instead of taking it? Man the f**k up and quit.

I am the pot calling the kettle black, but this pot finally quit. It took me a LONG time to hit rock bottom, but I did it. I quit. It has NEVER mattered to me if alcoholism was a disease or not. Yeah, it would have been nice to have that insurance coverage if I had needed rehab or a place to detox (I just did it at home after I manned the f**k up,) but the fact that it is classified a disease has never affected me in any way.

Honestly, what happens if we declassify it? The only thing it really affects is insurance, right? So what. We’re already spending half a trillion dollars on substance abuse, we might as well just double it and pay for everybody’s detox and treatment center visits. Sure seems like we already are anyway. We can just go invade Belgium and use their money for the drunks.

The only real point I’ve made so far about whether alcoholism is a disease or not is that I really don’t care. But I’m okay if it keeps its disease classification. It’s fine with me. I’m all for screwing insurance companies. They take a third of my check every month. And I’m a freaking state employee. Another topic for another day.

But if alcoholism maintains its classification, I just think there needs to be some caveat or asterisk that says, “Yes, we feel this is a disease, but it is NOT like cancer or tuberculosis or ALS. It is a disease of choice that progresses in the same manner as other biological diseases, and it CAN kill and CAN require treatment, but a person with cancer cannot opt out the way an alcoholic can. They cannot make a choice to quit their disease. A person with ALS cannot go to ALS Anonymous, admit their disease, and have a very real chance (through their own choices) of beating it.”

Some numbers suggest that there are as many as 80 million Americans who are either addicts or such abusive users of various substances that they are teetering on the edge of addiction. That’s more than one in five people. That’s ridiculously high. It’s just mind-blowing.

Can you imagine the long term effects if this epidemic keeps growing? We have children who are watching their parents destroy their lives. Trust me, I know. I have a thirteen year old that watched me do it until sixteen months ago. What happens when they grow up? Who will they become if their role models slowly became worthless slobs who spent their college money renting Busch Light?

We have a national debt that is growing exponentially and half a trillion dollars a year is probably not helping. Duh. We have become a country not of Millenials and Baby Boomers and Gen X and Gen Y, but of blame, offense, apathy, and a refusal to take ownership of the shit we need to do to fix it.

So no more studies on alcoholism, okay? Somebody promise me that. No more pills with bloated promises. Pills that help with withdrawal symptoms? Sure. I am wholeheartedly in favor of that. But stop peddling pills that “help” people quit an addiction. Addiction is such a mental gang rape that no pill can outsmart the human mind. The mind will win. And it usually does. I don’t want to hear another addict say they “can’t” stop. I got so damn sick of hearing myself say it I think I might blow up at somebody if they say it to me.

If you’re an addict, most likely you’re hiding. You’re probably depressed. You probably want to stay right where you are and not change because change is f**king hard, your future without your addiction is empty and bleak, and you just LOVE being an addict. It’s your safe place. Your happy place. You also love knowing you have a “disease” because you think it protects you from having to ever display true contrition and repentance. It’s your addiction crutch. You also do not care enough about anything to allow the words I’ve said to affect you.

If so, you’re as sorry and worthless as I was. Man up. Prove me wrong. If you spend another day the way you are right now, you are draining the life out of this great country, your family, your future, and your life.

And you don’t give a rat’s ass, do you?

Deliberately Destroying My Own Thoughts

August 21, 2018 by Denton Leave a Comment

Disclaimer

I have this weird belief that my wife absolutely hates. Her hatred doesn’t mean I must change my beliefs, so I’m allowed to keep most of them if I agree to a lifetime of eye rolls. Done!! In this case, it’s pretty trivial. I don’t think curse words are real things. We humans just decided at some point that “damn” and “hell” and “ass” were too bad to use in school even though they were all used in the Bible, that holy grail of bound knowledge that began the lineage of pretty much every law in the land.

But then we added more, and then more, and then the n-word was basically a curse word if white people said it but totally fine if black people said it. Nowadays they can say some words on cable but not the networks. Even the MPAA has no idea what words can be said in what movies. And if you use Urban Dictionary, you can make a case that basically any and every word in the English language is a curse word. And now some of the same words that are offensive to some people are viable options to keep on the list of possible baby names for other people. It’s just gotten stupid at this point. Let’s just all agree that they don’t exist and then nobody can be offended by made-up words anymore. Deal?

In saying that, however, I am a high school math teacher, and yes, I absolutely hear much, much worse than anything referenced in the above paragraph every day by the end of first block. (And they do it without repercussions or discipline, because you can’t suspend the entire school.) But in the spirit of professionalism and a love and commitment to that profession, the obviousness of my words in this post will be masked by some trivial alterations along the way.

And yes, I am fully aware that intelligent writing and intelligent speech don’t require the use of those aforementioned “curse” words, but I’m allowed to think they are fun and sometimes appropriately placed. And sometimes, it’s just necessary to get my point across. In this case, I’m only getting the point across to myself, mainly because I often need to yell at myself, and that is, in fact, necessary at times. If I’m having a rough day, I need something like this to knock me on my ass and remind me why sobriety is so fuching amazing. So if you are offended by misspelled words, please stop reading now. If you fuss about it later, you’ve been warned, so I kindly would ask your future offense to shut up.

End of Disclaimer. On to article.

This is a list of 10 thoughts that have dominated my mind since well before I started trying to rebuild my life, and they just won’t go away. Time, freedom, family, job, or even the occasional feeling of confidence has not shaken them. They remain, even fifteen months after my days of active addiction ended. I already know I’m insecure and timid and my opinion of myself is bad and I joke around just so I don’t have to acknowledge anything serious and I can be a real asshole because it’s been trained in me that it’s necessary sometimes to help save whatever image I have left of myself. I already know these things. I’m already addressing them in my own way. But I know EXACTLY what’s wrong with me and I know all the hackneyed ways (and the creative, off-the-wall, and stupid ways) of fixing it all.

To me, it’s like going to a counselor. I’m a smart guy. I’ve done some idiotic things and essentially lived a life of idiocy for twenty years, but my IQ is probably above 75 by now (I really don’t know; it could be lower.)

The point is that I would be absolutely blown away if a counselor said something unique and creative to me. Absolutely shocked. My wife said I sounded like a pretentious asshole when – during my days of active addiction – she would suggest that I go see a counselor because I probably had things inside me that were never resolved. I ALWAYS responded by saying, “There is absolutely NOTHING a counselor can say that I don’t already know.” I still believe that, as pretentious as it sounds.

The reason I believe this is because EVERYBODY that struggles with addiction or depression or anything else that has forced them to stop living has inner dialogue EVERY SINGLE DAY that tells, yells, and describes EXACTLY what they need to do to fix whatever problem is dominating today’s fuched up noggin. They already know the answer. They know how to end the addiction, cure the depression, nullify the suicidal thoughts, etc. Trust me on that. They talk to themselves inside their own head dozens or hundreds of times a day. I know I did. I knew exactly how to fix it all.

And I guarantee you this is the case with every other addict in the world. They’re just not willing to follow through on their own advice for some screwed up reason that only they understand. And most of the time, THEY don’t even understand it. But the problem with the addict’s mind is that we will hear this assault on our minds all day every day, but we never actually listen to it. We acknowledge that the voice is right, but it’s not right YET. We have some more drinking to do before we’re ready to truly listen to this wise, annoying voice.

Here’s an example before I begin the list. For YEARS, and I mean MANY YEARS, I knew I was an addict and I knew the only way to stop being an addict was to stop fuching drinking. Now is that so hard to figure out? Did I need a shrink to tell me that? Did I need a shrink to try to figure out why I had depression issues that could be leading to an inability to stop? Hell no. I knew why I had depression issues. I also knew quitting and whatever life came after it was going to be a hell of a lot harder than staying right where I was. Drunk, unhappy, depressed, but comfortable as hell.

So if you will allow me, I’m going to step aside and allow myself to speak to myself rather harshly for the next few minutes. The smart, devilishly sarcastic and brash person inside me that has been yelling at me for two decades will be my therapist (because I’m the only one I really listen to anyway) and, after being ignored for twenty years, he will let me hold it. Enjoy. Or be offended. Whatever.

And by the way, writing this was therapeutic as fuch!!

The Insecurities in My Noggin

1. What if people look at me differently when they find out I’m a recovering alcoholic?

Are you fuching serious? Are you that delicate? Do you need your mommy to walk around with you holding your wittle hand so the bad people can’t hurt you? Do you need a wittle princess pacifier? Is poor wittle Denton afraid that somebody might have a negative opinion of him?

There’s at least a few people that already do, asshole. You’ve just been so stuck inside your little selfish-as-hell addict bubble for so long you can’t even see that you’ve pushed people away and bailed on obligations and disappointed people because of your drunken irresponsibility. Who gives a shit if they see you differently? Hell, maybe by “differently” you might actually run across a few people that like you MORE when they find out. It’s doubtful, but anything’s possible. Trump is POTUS, after all. And your sorry ass got sober. Halle-damn-lujah. I was getting fuching sick of being ignored.

Besides, you act like all these people who find out you’ve been harboring these not-so-flattering secrets for twenty years are really just reincarnations of Jesus. If they want to judge you and think less of you, fuching let them. They can be assholes like you. Every last one of them. I bet somebody is going to judge you that once got busy with some chick in the bathroom of a club and went home with so many crabs crawling on their junk that the state of Maryland had an economic crisis due to a reduced crab population.

There’s going to be somebody else that judges you that has done some bonkers shit like send a bunch of money to their “cousin” Mahmoudahamamad in some country in Africa that doesn’t exist because Mahmoudahamamad said he had some lottery winnings or some such shit to send them. And you know what Mahmoudahamamad did with their money? Ass implants. Now how proud do you think the person is that bought an African village runway model a new ass?

What if you knew this wacko embarrassing stuff about those people that are going to judge you? Would you judge them in return? Hell yes, you would. You would laugh your fuching ass off. You’re finally a damn good guy (mostly,) so you would do that in private, but it’s human nature, dumbass. Is it right? Hell no. But it’s going to happen. Get over it, Twinkle Toes. If there’s somebody out there with no skeletons in their closet, it’s because they’re phuching homeless and have no fuching closets. Mic drop, bitch.

2. Forever is a long time to be an addict with no active vice. What if I fail?

Well, let’s see. You decided to double up on your addictions, so your Beta Club quality dumbass now has the very real possibility of either drinking OR dipping again, so that was well thought out, you fuching idiot. If you want to throw in sugar for your increasingly fat ass, well, that makes three addictions. You got addicted to fantasy sports for a little while, too, but you proved to be a failure at that, too, so you had to bail before you lost anymore money, so that pretty much makes four.

Talk about a ticking time bomb, my god. I would beg and plead to get out of your damn head before the bomb hits, but I do NOT want to miss that show. And no, I didn’t answer this question. It was too stupid to acknowledge. If you fail, you lose your family, your job, and eventually your life. Enough said, dumbass.

3. Why do I doubt myself so much?

Because you think you’re a failure, blah, blah, shit. Shut up, assface. Do you not think that 90% of all the people on this planet doubt themselves? If they have no inner dialogue that allows themselves to see all the sides of their decisions, even the doubts, then I guarantee they’ve made ten times the mistakes that you’ve made. Do you not think Right Said Fred had some doubts over what shirt to wear in the video for “I’m too Sexy?” He had to. If he was going to claim to be sexier than a damn shirt, it had to be a VERY mediocre looking shirt. And he failed, dammit. He should have doubted himself more. That fishnet shirt was incredible. Fred was no match for that shirt. The shirt was FAR sexier than Fred.

And do you not think Vanilla Ice had some doubts before he ended the greatest song in history with “Word to your mother?” You don’t think he said to himself, “What about the people out there listening who have no mothers?” You bet your ass he asked himself that. I bet he just decided that even those people without mothers would remember theirs fondly, so he went for it. And what did he get for it? Greatest song in history. Makes not a damn bit of sense, but it’s fuching fantastic.

4. What if I can’t ever get over, or at least learn to be content with, the guilt, regret, and bad decisions of my past?

You know time travel is fuching science fiction shit, right? Do you regret asking that question? Because you should. Everything you just listed in that question would be totally possible with time travel, but that’s not happening, now is it? You feel guilty about something you did? Go find a fuching Deloreon with a flux capacitor. Let me know how that works out for you. You have regrets? Bill and Ted have an excellent fuching phone booth I’m sure they’d let you borrow. You made some bad decisions, did you, sport? Well, I didn’t see that movie about Groundhog Day, but you should go watch it and write down all the shit you’ve learned because of all those bad decisions.

These questions are stupid as hell. You act like you’re the only one who’s ever had problems with guilt, regret, and bad decisions. Either get your head out of your ass or put your head in it. I’m just so discombobulated by your stupid questions, I don’t know which one you should do.

How’s this? You know there’s that step in AA that you refuse to do that talks about how you need to “admit to God, yourself, and another human being the exact nature of your wrongs?” And then right after that, it says you need to be “entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.” And then you have to “ask Him to remove your shortcomings.” This is what you need to do to stop asking this stupid ass question. Since your hypercritical ass is clearly never going to actually complete these steps, you actually have a good idea right now. Well, technically I had the idea but I’ll let you keep the credit.

The point in the steps is to get all that shit out in the open. Let all the bad stuff pour out like steaming piles of rancid shit. Well guess what, numbnuts? That’s why you decided to write about this. Now shut the hell up and just let time do what time was designed to freaking do. Keep writing and loving and living and all that other trite crap you get from those inspirational quotes you seem to love so damn much and just let time take care of the guilt and regret and shit.

5. I have all these dreams now, of places I want to go and the person I want to become. What if they don’t come true?

So you’re dreaming again, is that what you’re telling me? You went 20 years getting farther and farther away from goals and dreams – hell, you even stopped having remotely good ideas – and you want to know what happens when these fantastic new dreams don’t come true? Well here’s what you do. Inevitably, something in your future will not go as you planned it. When that happens, you should first go take a shit just to clear your mind. (wait for it……) Then, with a clear head, go kiss your fuching wife and hug your kids and know you just touched the only dreams in your life that actually matter. Mic drop again, bitch.

6. What if I’m not a good enough writer/networker/website builder to be a successful blogger?

Well since I’m the smart one of this delicate duo, allow me to back this train up a little. I’m pretty sure you told me that you wanted to start blogging because you needed to write about your little journey as a sober man, correct? You knew writing about it would do you some good, right? You said that if even one person got sober and turned their life around because of you, it was worth it, remember? I think you even said that even if you aren’t responsible for somebody getting sober, maybe the words you’ve written will KEEP somebody sober or help the spouse of an alcoholic better understand the person they married. It’s a very noble premise. Why be ashamed of the man you were for 20 years, right? Take that bad shit and do some good shit with it.

And now let me inform you of a little something, idiot. Did you know that there are 470 new websites created EVERY MINUTE in this world? A pretty fair number of them are everyday Joe’s and Josephine’s just like you that think they want to blog about their super awesome, super important lives. Most of them will get three people to read their super amazing blog and those three people will start avoiding that super amazing new blogger like a plague of flying diarrhea because their blog sucks and they don’t want to read another damn word.

They might actually move to another state to get away from them. They don’t want to read one more idea or article about how to use glow-in-the-dark tinsel and recycled wind chimes to decorate at Christmas, and transplanting their family is a viable alternative to the hideous “Christmas Chime” they will get for Christmas this year.

And yes, I just came up with “Christmas Chime.” It might be brilliant. I can even hear the jingle on the commercial for “Christmas Chimes.” “Christmas Chime is here. Happiness and Cheer. Fun for all. The Children Call. Their Favorite Chime this year.”

Anyway, off topic. Now, think about the kids you teach every day. Close your eyes and really think about them. Cell phones have rendered their ability to write coherent sentences hopeless. And think about reading all the posts on Facebook every day that make you cringe. Actual grown humans don’t know the difference between to and too. The sanctity of the English language in this country is refueling its handbasket with hashtags and text language at a Sheetz station somewhere between here and hell. You could literally use incorrect punctuation one hundred percent of the time and start every sentence with multiple verbs and you’ll still be a better writer than half the people in the world. You’ll be fine. You’re doing good. I promise.

7. How am I going to respond when people give me negative comments on any of my thoughts, blogs, articles, or whatever I call the stuff I write?

Come back over here and get some inspiration by reading how your better half responds to your stupid ass questions. Then just channel that awesomeness and go respond. You also have sarcasm and self-deprecation on your side, too. Dole all of that out and then insult their mom, child, spouse, or dog. All of them at the same time would be best, actually. Challenge them to a fight, too. It shows maturity. You should probably go in armed if you take that route, however. Best of luck. I mostly hope you don’t die.

8. What if my wife receives a negative reaction to my blog?

I get the impression that your wife can handle herself. She handled your drunk ass for several years. She scared the shit out of you more times than you’re willing to admit. That’s a tough ass bitch you got at your house, brother. I don’t think you have to worry about her at all. Now go rub her damn feet.

9. What if my kids get bullied at school because their father is an alcoholic?

You know what I like about you, Denton? It’s only one thing, so don’t get all cocky like you’re waiting for a list of superlatives. No, the one thing I like is what you’ve said to your daughter for all these years. “If somebody bullies you,” you say to her, “and you punch them in the face, I will take you on a trip somewhere.” That’s just preposterous and fantastic at the same time. I can’t add anything more than that. It’s just incredible. I love it.

The problem is that it’ll never happen. That’s good for you because it’s cheaper this way, but that just won’t happen. And your son is tiny so far, so I just can’t see that happening with that little shrimp either. But you’ve got one other thing going for you. You have ME in your head, which means you have the ability to teach them the art of scathing sarcasm. Your daughter is already coming along nicely with this. She just needs some practice and confidence. In other words, they’ll be just fine. She will handle her business because she’ll learn to say something like, “So I’m supposed to feel sad and embarrassed that I am super proud of my dad for admitting his faults and trying to be a better person? Am I also supposed to feel angry because a cancer patient was cured and now volunteers at the hospital?”

10. Once and for all, why are we here?

I have not one fuching clue.