This is What Happens When You Replace Alcohol with Water

And I’m not talking the sparkling kind

For the past three years, I’ve been sleepwalking through life like a pro. Like a well-dressed toddler looking for closets of mischief — I blamed my laissez-faire dependency on alcohol on a number of things:

  • A mental breakdown that stemmed from an ill-advised move to New Orleans where I squatted with someone from the good old days who turned out to be a manic hoarder
  • The disillusionment that grips when putting all your eggs in one basket leaves you with broken shells and spilling yolk.
  • Noticing the dark-haired beauty that used to greet me every morning was turning into a graying nag with 99 problems and no black strands in sight.
  • The privileged issues of my youth like period cramps, period blood running over, having to schedule trips before and after cycles — suddenly vanished. Period.
  • Trying to find my place in this world and ending up in a roach-infested bunk room with bunk beds, bunk mates and the bulk of my existence stashed in a roach-infested closet.
  • Working the dream job of a programmer, I mean, content producer. Oops! No, web producer. Actually all of the above.
  • Finally concluding that doing anything productive with a sober mind is a trap. The only way you can woo them with courage and sincerity especially after long days of programming — is to wash down the anxiety with buzz balls and a keyboard.

And so I existed under the guise of livin’ la vida loca, which is really the only way to bury the scream of critics and the mishandling of a destiny that finally assures you of nothing.

Except there was nothing cool and amazing about stalking social media platforms in the dead of night and pretending to be unaffected — when your puffy eyes laser in on the beautifully manicured pages.

Sure, my numbers were getting higher and the adulation beckoned my need to increase the dosage, but what the hell was I thinking?

I was thinking how weird it was that I looked older than my age with the aid of fat deposits, yellowing skin and brittle nails.

Why is this happening?

I’m not doing anything particularly mind-boggling except getting up every day around 10 am — heading to the gym — stopping by the liquor store afterwards to claim my energy drinks — arriving back at home — applying for jobs that don’t exist — being upset that I’m applying for jobs that don’t exist — beginning the drink fest around midday that ends at midnight.

Literally two months ago — I decided that I’d had enough.

I started a new gig as a content programmer or whatever — and the first morning brought about stomach pains that treacherously held me at gunpoint. I had to give it all up or die.

From that day on I switched my liquid of choice to water. Gallons and gallons of it were poured into me with frantic fury as I contemplated the extent of the damage — and the pollution sifting through my swollen belly.

All I did and all I do is attack the sizable Crystal Geyser containers as if they contain the fountain of youth and the spiritual cleansing of the mind.

In fact, yes, I underwent the kind of treatment that the Housewives of Beverly Hills still can’t seem to perfect.

When I replaced alcohol with water this is what happened:

  • All the reasons why I relied on buzz balls and tequila were dissolved because instead of running away — I ran towards my heartaches.
  • The fat deposits melted away and my skin is now restored to it’s former glory, with a gorgeous glow that forces me to walk around naked more often.
  • My hair is still prematurely gray, but with an extra layer of sheen for good behavior.
  • I sleep better at night and wake up refreshed and energized, and this allows me to think more clearly and treasure the morning walks to 7–Eleven for coffee and, yes, you guessed it! Water!
  • My workout sessions are producing tangible results and the shitload of water I consume actually gives me such a high that at times — I don’t even require the escape of music because of my own built-in tempo.
  • My writing has adjusted accordingly which was scary at first, but I can’t deny the appreciation of producing content without the haze that dulls the senses into believing that you’re getting away with bad behavior that fuels a deadly habit.
  • I’m beginning to understand myself better. I realize that I have obsessive/compulsive tendencies — but I also remarkably possess the strength to switch the off/on button — at will.
  • And most importantly — faltering relationships are now being revived.

To summarize, water is absolutely the gift of life. If you love it too much — you will be rewarded with the qualities that are free and too valuable to fuck with — even for 99 strands of gray.

I’m lucky that I got punched in the gut and I was able to allow the pain to whip me back into mental and physical shape. I’m really lucky that I really enjoy replacing the toxicity in my pores with the promise of tomorrow — with the only downside being the frequent trips to the loo.

I’m tackling the projects that were stuck as drunken manifestations in my weary mind and even better — I recently made love with someone that I can actually stand.

Don’t you just love when that happens?