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.