The Streak

 

November 21st, 2015 - December 8th, 2023

2939 days.

The Streak began without my knowledge, gained traction because I thought it would be interesting to see if I could write about beer on Instagram every day for a year and morphed into a weird ritual that was part of my daily routine for just a little over 8 years. 

6,664 beer and beer adjacent posts later, it came to an end and strangely enough, something changed almost as undetected as it had started. 

  I've loved the feeling of leaving behind the world with a couple of drinks for longer than I can remember. It goes back more than 3 decades and while there have been long stretches of sobriety in those years, it wasn't long before I had a bottle in my hand and was tipping more than a few back every weekend and the odd weekday too. I enjoyed many nights with friends, just shooting the shit about life, nothing too deep mind you, and indulging in the three beers to the truth we would joke about as the pints flew quickly and everything seemed so grand.

  Then came the fall of all I had been working for and slowly I watched as my business and then my grip on reality slipped away from me. I was torn down to my core, exposed and searching for the reason why I had failed so much at life when I thought I was going to succeed.  Being labelled a gifted kid with no real understanding or support system to help me direct my energy into making that something more than a grade school bully target and then derelict high school drop out gave me an odd sense of accomplishment as I looked at how much I had managed to accomplish, even with what I had thrown away. I reveled in the mundane destruction of it all.

  Through all those dark days, I did manage to keep up appearances, my mask slipping occasionally and the frightening sadness underneath would ooze out into the world, causing me to retreat further from those who knew me before everything changed. I didn't want to be around people who knew me as a good-time guy, that facade was a heavy burden I carried because I grew up with the lesson that men didn't talk about their feelings or troubles, you just carried on and did what you needed to do for your family. Isolating myself from who I used to be made everything harder but there was a small light at the end of the very long tunnel and lucky for me, it turned out not to be the 3:10 to Yuma barreling down on me.

  When I stumbled upon craft beer and the growing community online in late 2015, there was a sense of us against the big corporate macro brewers, the Rocky theme played out as we tried new styles of beer and got excited about cask nights, beer festivals and meeting like minded folks through our little pictures on Instagram. I pledged to drink a beer and write about it every day in 2016 and when I completed that, I just kinda kept going. It wasn't my intention to do all I have done since that November day in 2015, but who among us is the same person they were 8 years ago?

  I loved a lot of what those early days brought, I found solace in talking about my own mental health struggles through the lens of Mindful Drinking and trying to drink less but better. It was true in my heart in those days, I really did believe in everything I wrote and talked about in those much more innocent times, a veil of superiority cloaked every pint we poured and every picture we took. We thought we would change the world, but as the years have gone by, we have seen the same issues society at large faces come out in the stories of the terrible behaviour of so many people involved in craft beer and the increasing influence of the hidden cost of this liquid dream.

  I've spent the last few years leaning more into the drunk part of my life, the escapism associated with a couple, three beers a night. Big daddy pours of Rye and a desire to just leave it all behind every day was evident to anyone and I knew it deeply. I had reached a point of no return and saw no way to stop this rollicking mine cart careening down the mountainside without something drastic happening. I couldn't step away, even when I stopped caring our putting much more than a minimal effort into what I was doing online. The first half of 2023 saw me push myself to the most destructive thoughts I had felt in almost a decade and there seemed like only one way I wouldn't have a drink in my hand at some point every day and it didn't involve being above ground.

  But...

  Somehow, fate intervened again, and I was let go from a toxic, degenerate workplace that had helped me manifest the very worst of who I was each and every day, a path leading me to an early end and a decidedly tarnished one at that. I took a few weeks this summer to just be, to let go of a lot of the internal self hatred that often manifested itself in way too many drinks and seek perhaps a new path forward. I found a job that was exactly what I needed, a place where my most valuable asset was myself and slowly began to climb up and poke my head out of the hole I had created over the last half decade. I felt that it was time to find a way to change my own relationship with this character I had created and when Covid finally came calling on December 9th, 2023, I put down my phone, my glass and stopped the tap for the first time in 8 years. 

  It was terrifying, not in a sense that I would lose any sort of online credibility or presence, it was a nagging voice in my head that was telling me if I stopped doing something every day, it would be bad luck and I would soon be gone from this earth, dead by lack of routine. I know it's a mental thing, but those 5 days late last year where I not only stepped away from drinking, but all social media, was a revelation. I hate it when people announce they are leaving or taking a break from posting, it seems designed to troll for some kind of sympathy and honestly, it gives me bad vibes. I promised myself that when the day comes, I'll just delete my accounts, take the apps off my phone and walk away into the non-digital sunset without looking back. And for 120 hours, I did almost that, with perhaps 2 or 3 people checking to see if I was okay because I hadn't posted a beer every day. I felt free from the self-imposed daily grind, I felt loose and found myself not needing to create something every day to make my life make sense. 

  More non drinking days followed, not to say that I haven't had some grey moments in the last month and a half at all, but there was a severing of a very long cord to something from my past that I could not let go of and as 2024 dawned, I felt the path I was on had branched and I could now choose where I went next, empowered by my break, the next day could be whatever I made it, a fresh start with each morning. Don't get me wrong, I know I have a long way to go in terms with my mental health and my relationships, both with alcohol and with the people in my life. I know little of what I did for the last 8 years will have lasting impact on anyone but myself and the burden of proving I can change falls squarely on my beaten yet unbowed shoulders. I am not going to change in a short time, those Saturday night pints are still fun to me, but the possibility of change exists now like it hasn't since the beginning of all this.

  There has been a shift in my life since last September, but I am not someone who changes direction quickly, a large ship takes time to turn and I am just such a large ship. There is a new calm I find, one I can maybe seek out in larger chunks of time, away from the screen and the beer that brings me here. I don't want to stop doing all this just yet, I've found my inspiration and motivation to write again and it too is making a difference in how I feel, my mood is better and my self worth creeps higher whenever I can take the words from my notes and in my head and put it all together in one long form piece. But there is an exit, I see the possibilities of what comes next and for now, that is what I am focusing on.

  It was a helluva long ride, I'm not sure why it all happened, but the story is changing and I wanna be here to see where it goes, 

Thanks for coming along, I appreciate it more than I'll ever be able to say.

Polk

January 22nd, 2024