Current State Of Affairs

It’s November 2025, and I’ve been sober for almost a week. That might not sound like much, but right now it feels like the sun finally cracked through a sky that’s been gray for months. This morning I hopped on my motorcycle and rode from Freeport to DeFuniak Springs—cool air, empty roads, the kind of ride that reminds you there are things worth living for. I stopped at Perla Bakery, and got a ham and cheese croissant and a quad espresso over ice. If you’ve ever been in this part of the Florida Panhandle, you know that good espresso and good pastries can be hard to come by, and Perla has both.

I moved to Freeport after coming back to Florida to try again with my best friend—my ex-wife. We’ve known each other for 15 years and raised two kids together; I’m their stepdad. I came back from St. Louis in January, sold my condo in March, and thought I was making a long-term move to rekindle the romance and live happily ever after. But some of the same things that broke us five years ago were still there. A story for another time. By July, I had packed up again and landed in Freeport, in a one-bedroom apartment in a resort-style community with a brewery and a general store.

I moved back down here sober, but started drinking when things turned south with my ex. And, when you put someone whose only coping skill is drinking within walking distance of a brewery…well, you can guess how that worked out. Between moving twice, worrying about layoffs, emotional chaos, and the brilliant decision to adopt two puppies — one of which I later had to rehome — everything felt overwhelming. So I did what I’ve always done. I drank.

Every. Single. Day.

Open to close. Spending all my money. Gaining weight. Losing myself. I ballooned from 240 to 275. My chest hurt. My sides hurt. My blood pressure was garbage. My GERD was back. I was bloated. I was starting to retain water in my ankles. I was debilitatingly depressed. I wasn’t living; I was fading out.

I’ve done the rounds: rehab (twice), antidepressants, anxiety meds, years of therapy, AA since nineteen, hypnosis, white-knuckling it, etc. I was considering checking into rehab again when something else occurred to me.

Testosterone.

I’d been on testosterone replacement therapy (TRT) before, and it helped me more than any antidepressant ever did. So I got bloodwork. My testosterone was under 100. No wonder everything felt impossible.

Three weeks ago, I started treatment. And last week—I just stopped drinking.

I had the motivation again. The spark. The desire to actually try. I’m not a doctor, and I’m not giving advice, but in the spirit of this blog’s purpose, I want to be honest about my experience because there are so many angles to substance use that get overlooked in therapy, AA, even rehab. TRT addressed several underlying deficiencies that had been reinforcing the addictive loop—depression, anxiety, lack of motivation, and fatigue to name a few.

Six days sober, I feel lighter. Clearer. A little hopeful—for the first time in a while.

I’m still dealing with the reality that I might get laid off in January after more than a decade in e-commerce consulting. But instead of drinking myself into the oblivion of “I’ll deal with it when I have to,” I’m actually dealing with it. Applying for jobs. Studying for certs that would make me a more desirable candidate to an employer. Thinking about going back to school. Planning to hit the gym next week. Riding my motorcycle. Eating healthier. Taking care of myself in small, steady ways.

I guess to sum it up—If you’re struggling: don’t give up. You never know which new thing, new angle, new attempt might help and get you on the right track.