The PHQ-9 and hammering booze

If you're anything like me, you indulged in hooch bent hooliganism in your 20s, before polishing it up with a thin veneer of adulthood in your 30s before realizing it's not worth it. Then you realized all that goes hand-in-hand with some serious mental health problems you were keeping quiet with the booze.

For me, it was a lifetime of dysthymia, an exquisitely fucked up childhood, things from Iraq, and horrible shit from emergency medicine.

I was raised not to complain, and I didn't want to feel bad all the time. So therapy wasn't an option and feeling bad wasn't either. Shots of whiskey? Don't mind if I do.

Then I realized I can't run. Not even with booze. I went to the VA. It saved my life. I took the PHQ-9. My baseline was in the high teens. Moderate depression. Spikes would be in the 20s. Severe.

They put me in biweekly therapy. Sometimes weekly. I did not tell them I was drinking. I only drank 1-3 times a week. Not so bad, right?

Then one day, my topiramate for nightmares interacted with alcohol and lead to the too turnt CT post. I had to quit.

Guys, did you know alcohol is a depressant?? Yeah, between the therapy, meds, lifestyle change, and now QUITTING ALCOHOL, my PHQ-9 is at 6.

I don't think I've been this low since the early 2010s. Emotions are coming back. I enjoy music again. The world isn't monochrome.

So how can alcohol use disorder be a gift? Well. I never would have been this thankful for each day without the affliction.

What makes an alcoholic? Who gives a shit? If alcohol is causing problems, there's an alcohol problem. No need for labels. Just walk away from it and be yourself.

TL;DR: Drank ass off because I was depressed. Traumatic events accelerated drinking. Realized I was in booze loop and exited. Happier times ensued. Realized labels are bullshit and gratitude is a great foundation for a day.

Not drinking with you today, everyone!