AWOL

New song. 

Because of nostalgia and alcohol, I am transported. Vividly. 

The deserts of Kuwait.  It's 2002, and the war before us still awaits.  

System of a Down, the band responsible for the song above, gets me through most nights separated far, far from family and country. 

I walk night after night to the chow hall, a tent, in deep kinship with folks much more honorable than I.  

Cpt. Daniel Sinclair. Sgt. Adrian White. Sgt. Osama Hammad. 

All presently known by civilian titles or military titles of advanced rank. 

Me?  Since dedicating my life to, and subsequently failing Special Forces Assessment and Selection,  I have been AWOL from the National Guard. 

I wish I could rip my combat experience from my history because my current condition makes me not worthy of it.  And especially not worthy of the brethren I shared it with. 

The song above haunts me. 

Hi.

Certain songs evoke deep reaction.  Although, given "evoke" relates approval, I am not sure this is the correct word. 

Welcome to this blog. 

It's our secret.  I write here, and also here. 

But this site is not for public consumption.  

This blog is for me. 

A Diary. Of sorts. 

On my best days, such as today, my demons are approachable. 

On my worst, they are vicious monsters indeed.  In both cases, I need an outlet to write. 

Most of similar concern choose a diary.  I am choosing a blog.  Although I wish the only visitors to be those of chance. 

Alcoholism.

I have a huge alcohol problem.  I have always had.  But it has taken many forms. 

As a youngin', I would drink until I could not remember the night.  Such over-indulgence is no longer the habit  I know better than even sipping water more devilish than beer. 

But I do love beer. 

And, besides its taste, there is nothing I love more about beer than the condition to which it delivers me.  Right outside of reality.  Not far from it.  But a step aside. 

I like this world better. 

I have serious social anxiety issues. Due to many things, no doubt.  I have my own diagnoses. 

But all is remedied so long as I am at least a beer-deep amongst fellow beer-drinkers. 

The shakes depart then.  Confidence grows.  Unease diminishes. And comfort builds with every sip. 

Thus, this blog. 

From an anonymous alcoholic. 

Many conversations will follow.  Between me, and the words produced by typing fingers only somewhat of my control.  

And you, the eavesdropper.