Drinking is personal.

  My relationship with alcohol is more complicated than anything else I've encountered in my life, because at the end of it all, it's really about my own internal struggle and conflict with how I live and what kind of reality I see every day. The past is hazy, I leaned hard into the mind altering, carefree way that a couple of beers could make you feel, nobody loved the 2 or 3 beer buzz more than I...nobody. I didn't want to get obliterated every night, my addiction was far less insidious and in front of me in a way that I wanted to escape but still seem in control. Just enough alcohol to numb, not enough to become a problem for anyone but myself. And without the health issues I encountered last fall, I don't see how I would have interrupted that pattern without some form of intervention, from the outside or within.

 I always say that nobody know more about how to diet and exercise than a fat guy, we know the stats and what we need to do, we just can't find the will or the way to do it...but baby, do we know the cheap, expensive and everything in between about it. Same goes for drunks. I can see through different, sober, eyes now, even though I always knew the problem existed. I watch how much everyone else seems to drink now, and know that I probably drank at least as much and probably more. Until you step back, you don't see how many you're putting back in a week, they all blur together into a mash of everything is okay...until the day it isn't.  

  We glamorize the new releases and beer fests, ignoring the underlying social and health issues associated with our favourite thing outside of paying homage to fallen pals and urging the "moderation" crew as long as it doesn't impact the bottom line. We don't want to talk about the societal issues, health ramifications and mental health problems associated with alcohol, we just want to see pretty reels and pictures about community and having a good time. We know deep in our souls that everything on social media is seen through a foggy lens of false perfection, all the while claiming authenticity and good times. I live in this world, it is my window and my door, the only way I feel like I belong anywhere is when I exist there and it is exhausting. The break I forced myself to take from most of it during my initial recovery was freeing in a way, but I still find myself drawn back into its orbit because I don't know what else to do or where I should go. I like talking about beer and how it feels, even the non-alcoholic ones have a way of giving you a break from the world, where you can focus on what's in your glass instead of the growing dystopia that seems to be gaining momentum around the globe. I know so many folks want beer and other alcohol based communities to be free of politics and a place for everyone, but as we have seen and heard for so long, the more things change, the more they stay the same when it comes to our problems and our inclinations. Is it wrong for people to want an escape? A place where the biggest problem is a beer style they don't like or an off flavour killing the lager vibe? The gathering of like minded individuals, who's political leanings may or may not be aligned, is possible, as long as no one rocks the boat or makes it weird. But making it weird means making it better. Making it weird for the majority means everyone can feel weird together. 

But what do I know, I'm a drunk...

Polk

September 29th, 2025

One Year Later...

                             

  I woke up this morning, knowing it's been exactly 1 year since the last time I indulged my inner drunk and had way too many pints, topped off with a big old glass of whiskey. One year since I could barely breathe after going up a flight of stairs or walking to my car and one year since my resting heart rate was somewhere around 170 beats per minute. In those 365 days, I have not let go of reality even once. No slip ups or "accidents", never having more than 2 beers in a single day and no hard liquor of any kind. Part of this is predicated by all the medications I'm on to help control blood pressure and keep my heart from running itself out of beats before my time is supposed to be up. But the other part has become a battle of internal monologues, each vying for supremacy and each with some good points to be made. 

  On one side, we've got the good times Polk, the drunkard who loves to let go and seeks the haze that only a half dozen beers and a full glass of whiskey can bring. He seeks the nostalgia of a past that sometimes isn't just seen through rose coloured glasses, it's outright delusional. But he relaxes. He takes the weary mind and the world gone mad and just let's them go. He watches his favourite movies and shows and has not a care in the world except for his next drink and he gets to drift away into the night, careless and thoughtless.

  The other side, Sober Polk, hangs off me like an ill-fitting suit two sizes too small. The biggest problem I have run into being sober for an entire calender year is the unrelenting reality of the world around me. Living through the entire last year without a hazy filter or escape has led me down some pretty dark paths and while I know intellectually that drinking too much is part of why I'm where I am today, I still can't help but miss it dearly. Sober Polk is a quieter guy, but he rages underneath and sometimes that bubbles through unintentionally. I feel like I have begun to care less about things that used to be important, maybe to not have to feel any emotion or maybe to shield myself from the temptation to say "Fuck it", and pour the last of my whiskey from a year ago and fire the whole thing up again. It would lead to my demise faster than I'd like, but somedays, sober me gets the feeling that he isn't afraid of that anymore.

  That I haven't given into my lesser angels this year has been a surprise to me for sure. I remember lying in that hospital bed trying to figure out and bargain with whatever the universe is to be able to just go back to living as I had been. What part of my intellect was I suppressing to try and make that work is beyond me, because I knew life was changing and would never be the same again...but then it kind of has been, just without any release from reality and responsibility.  I wanted it all to just be a big misunderstanding and it has turned into an internal struggle for my very existence. I know I am better now than I was a year ago and I have an incredible opportunity to further take my health in a better direction with the help of many professionals, part of a bariatric/heart health study I have agreed to be part of. I like when they ask me if I drink and I can honestly say 2 or 3 beers a week. 1 specialist asked if I could go completely dry and, without hesitation, I said "Yes.". 

And I meant it.

  I have come to enjoy my pursuit of the best in non-alcoholic beers over the last 9 months plus. I've found some incredible gems among the almost 200 different offerings I've been able to find. The ability to keep writing and talking about some kind of beer is part of what keeps me sane and around. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't do even that little escape into what I love to do. But as I have learned in the last year, I am capable of change, even if I fight myself all the way through it. 

  I need to lose a lot of weight still, apparently it wasn't the beer after all, I know, I was surprised too. I need to reevaluate my relationship with food and the how and why I eat the way that I do. I need to become more active, even if it scares to take the first step on a walk that could alter my life forever. The things I seek exist in the wisps of the future that stretch out into the unknown. I am not sure if I am truly capable of the next steps, I honestly have been fighting myself for so long that I am sometimes lost as to how to get myself unstuck. But I have hopes that with professional help, including some much needed therapy for my mental health, I can find some new tools to help me find a way forward into an even brighter future.

Thanks for all the support to everyone who's reached out in the last year. Your kind words have meant the world to this old fella and I appreciate every message, DM and comment I get. I don't wanna go anywhere, I still got a lot left to say.

Cheers!

Polk

09/22/25

Time to Let it Go...

  

An appropriate us for my growlers now, I suppose...

  I've come to a crossroads in my life and while this particular intersection may seem a little silly, it feels like a momentous, albeit small, decision going forward.

  I have a lot of beer paraphernalia, bottles and clothing. Mostly bottles and cans I've saved from all the thousands I've tried, about 500 or so that line the shelves and walls of my basement, along with many signs and pictures, various knick-knacks and mementos of the last decade of my life. Here's the thing though, I don't know if they speak to me anymore. I don't know that what they used to represent is what or who I am now and I wonder, quite seriously, if hanging onto these things is holding me back from the next evolution in my life. 

  I know that in the end of it all, they are just things, collectibles to me and my memories and not really necessary to the times they represent. But looking around as the NFL season begins and hockey is just around the corner, I wonder if all this stuff that surrounds me down here in my "Man-Cave" I lovingly refer to as The Crease isn't just weighing me down instead of lifting me up. We surround ourselves with things that have the potential to inspire us and by leaving all this beer related stuff surrounding me so many hours a week, do I leave myself open for failure or worse, paralysis of the mind as I seek to make so many changes to my life and how I live it. I wonder if I need a physical rendering of the mental one I've already done, taking charge and changing my environment to better reflect the pursuits I now endeavour to and seek. 

Beer Wall circa 2016

  I feel like it is time to say goodbye to 90% of what is down here. Perhaps a single shelf of the most important of favourite beers of all-time. I have photos of everything, so perhaps printing them and putting them into some frames as part of the decoration, but not the focus would be a good idea. Do I need 40 plus growlers collecting dust around my room or can I give them back, collecting the cash and freeing up the space for the new things I'm trying to fill my life with. I wonder if the change I want is not just the things, but what I used to think they represented about my over the top lifestyle of just 1 year ago. The indulgence I found myself leaning into after so many years of trying to be a better drinker lent an air of defiance to showing off my consumption and now that I've spent 12 months sober as a church mouse, I don't think these displays represent me or who I am anymore. Even though it's just me, for the most part, that sees these things, I am the target audience for the message and the message needs to change.

  So stay tuned if your looking for some beer related stuff to decorate your own personal space, I know a guy who's going to be looking to clean out some stuff real soon...gratis...

P.S. I understand the irony of me writing about my beer walls just a couple of months ago. Time's change and so do folks who spend a lot of it sober...

Polk

9/14/25 

   One thing sobriety has taught me is that I am an angry man. Not that I wasn't before, but the booze would give me a sort of freedom to say the crazy shit in my head out loud and at least then, I would figure, the truth would be out there. The problem, of course, is that sometimes that truth was little more than vitriol dressed up in a whiskey bottle and thrown out into the fire. I was never a violent man physically, but I know I could hurt people even more with the words I chose and how I chose t spin those words into my own narrative of the truth. 

  Coming round on a year of being sober, I find myself still having some angry moments that can cause me to shut down into myself, but I do not lash out at those around me in a vain attempt to alleviate my own pain. I process the feelings I have now in a much calmer way, but I do sometimes dwell on things for a longer time as I don't have the 6 pack of freedom to rely on anymore. I'm more honest, but I'm also more afraid of what that honesty entails. I wonder if I'll ever find happiness again somedays when the darkness lurks behind me, but then I find a bright light to climb up to and begin again.

  Perhaps the next step will be finding some help to process the things I've done and said for the last 5 decades plus that cause me to feel this way. I've heard it said that everyone could use some therapy at some time in their lives and I guess that probably includes me. I'll let you know how it goes...

Polk

9-15-25

One Day in July...

   I wrote this back in July. I was in a pretty dark place a the time, it was a bit of that darkness that was driving me at the time. Feeling better now as I approach a year of sobriety, but I felt compelled to put this into the world to remind myself that I can keep coming back, every time.

It's hard to believe a decade has passed so quickly. Time is relative, I've been told, and as I get older, it does seem to be speeding up, even as I feel like I'm slowing down. On July 11, 2015, I changed my handle on Instagram from RobbyBaconStrips to the DrunkPolkaroo after a particularly drunken night where I made promises to go to a beer festival the next day, drunk me making plans sober me could not afford. The origin of the name is something I've gone over way back in the early days (Find it here : Why the Drunk Polkaroo?), but it was never intended to be about craft beer or anything other than a silly play on words and my ridiculous propensity for having a few more wobbly pops than was advisable and then making plans for the coming days that I would not go to or had the money to do even if I could make it in any case. I fully intended to change my moniker back after a few days, but some friends had a chuckle at it and I figured a joke is as good a reason to keep it around for a while. The ensuing months found me really getting into talking about craft beer and exploring the expanding scene, both online and in real life and with a little encouragement from a close family member, I leaned into it all in late 2015, early 2016. 

  Those were the heady days of what became my life for the better part of a decade, we made new friends, traveled in search of new beer experiences and generally embraced this odd lifestyle with two steins and a laugh. I can't describe how it felt to write not only about the beers and community, but to talk about my mental health struggles, our infertility problems and a whole host of other, personal things along with critiques and thoughts on the craft beer industry and the people who lived and breathed it all. We came together in crazy ways, staying overnight at peoples houses we only knew online, travelling hours to hang out and embracing this change with a hearty cheers and an open mind. Looking back from 2025, I don't really believe it was possible for me to have been able to do all of that, it seems like a bit of a fever dream and lingers in my mind, hazy but happy. 

I'm not sure when it started to feel different, a lot of the folks I came up with in the first five years moved on from the whole thing, having kids, exploring new things and more often than not, finding both a toxic undercurrent and health issues too much to bear. The early days I so embraced were filled with good people who genuinely wanted to make craft beer something different from the usual Bro-culture that seemed to be so prevalent, but I've watched so many of them leave or be forced out by indifference from allies and outright anger from people who didn't want anything to change or felt that any sort of accountability was akin to tearing down something they felt should only focus on the good and not the bad things happening. The reckoning that seemed to come from our very own Me Too moments when Erin collected and shared the stories of women who had been harassed and worse petered put after an initial reaction and little changed except perhaps the bad actors keeping things close to the vest and moving problems around until the heat dies down. Silence met inaction and on it went. While there are some good people still working to bring about positive change, a sour taste lingers years later and it certainly played a part in my own slow departure, accelerated by my wonky ticker and deteriorating mental health. 

I found myself isolating from events, posting a lot online, but leaving any real life interactions at an absolute minimum. Self loathing makes every contact feel like nails on a chalkboard. It wasn't that I didn't like other people, I came to hate myself so much I didn't know how anyone could spend a moment with such a person, so I removed myself and wandered slowly into the darkness alone.

  Sobriety has not always been a kind friend. I suppose the clarity of constant awareness is a good thing, but I find myself trapped sometimes in a loop of nostalgia that is equal parts happiness and regret. I don't know what the future holds and my experience in the last 10 months has me questioning a lot of what I thought my past was too. Reality isn't for everyone, but when it's thrust upon you when you have been actively seeking to escape it every day, it is jarring and often seems to send my mind into a spiral. Perhaps therapy would help, I know a couple beers and two fingers of whiskey would do wonders, but I don't know that either is going to make any difference. 

 The Hip sing "It's a good life if you don't weaken" and I feel that every day. The struggle finds me strong or weak and I move forward with little more than the quiet desperation of dwindling years and no direction.