Wasted time

*tap *tap

“This thing on?”

It’s been a minute.

The last time I posted, I was still 38. I’m now 40. Over the hill, as they say.

I’ve done a lot of thinking about turning 40 over the last few months, as my birthday approached.

My 30s were generally highlighted by tremendous career growth, along with sizeable expansion physically.

To be fair, not since my mid-20s have I been in great physical shape. On my birthday, I weighed in around 320. Fat, for sure. My goal now is to lose 100 before June 7, 2027, when I turn 41.

It’s a lofty goal, but I don’t have much of a choice anymore. High blood pressure isn’t something I want to continue medicating, never mind myriad other issues that come along with obesity.

I’m back walking every day, and I’ve already begun shedding weight (to be fair, I started making significant dietary and exercise changes in late May). I’m already 10 per cent of the way back to 220, where I was in great physical shape.

Alas, this post isn’t about that.

It’s about wasted time.

I suppose it ties into the gaining weight bit over the past 10-15 years. I could still be playing hockey and basketball. I’ve poured a lot of my focus and energy into my career — and into late-night Dominos orders.

Last time I wrote, it was nearing a year of sobriety. I’ve never spoken publicly, and outside of a few close people, no one knows what I’ve been sober from for more than two years now.

Experts call it the “hidden drug,” or sometimes the “new drug.”

Porn.

It’s been quite the journey.

In March 2024, my marriage was on life support. Today, it’s better than it’s ever been. Thank God for my wife, an incredible woman that, even as a trained writer, I couldn’t possibly describe in words. Her strength is unmatched.

I suspect some people will see those four letters and think, ‘You can’t be addicted to that.’

Indeed. You can.

The effects are all encompassing, too — mentally, physically, psychologically.

That said, I understand there is a stigma still attached to it that isn’t as pronounced for alcohol or gambling, for instance.

I pay no mind to people who see it differently. The science backs it up, and there’s increasingly more and more of it as porn has taken root in society. Say nothing about my own experiences, and those of others I’ve found through AA-style groups.

Indeed, when I was desperate for help, I was thankful that help was there.

The program I found is called the Freedom Fight. It begins with a 30-day challenge to quit, and continues with a months-long program to find freedom. Like AA, it’s spiritually based.

Next week, I’ll do the months-long program again — not because of a relapse, but to help others the way others helped me.

In April, I got my first chance to witness, as it were, to others. I’ve done the 30-day challenge a few times now. This last time, I was able to talk to others about my struggle, and offer hope to those still stuck in it.

Sobriety is a daily — and often hourly — commitment. I’ve maintained it largely with many of the tools learned through the Freedom Fight. I’ve changed routines. I’ve re-wired my brain.

It’s taken me a long time to name it. To say it. To tell more than just a small group of people around me. That I’m an addict.

But I’ve reached a point where I’ve wasted too much time hiding from it. Thirteen out of the 15 years I’ve been married, I ignored it. I told myself I could quit any time. I stuffed the shame down with more of the drug.

In the same way, I don’t want to waste time trying to help the next me. The person who’s stuck in the cycle of guilt and shame and doesn’t know which way is up.

I didn’t fear turning 40. I didn’t dread the day. If nothing else, I hope it has inspired me in some way or another.

If you’ve enjoyed this newsletter/blog/mind dump and want to express your gratitude, I’ve set up this PayPal tip jar. Some have asked if they can buy me a coffee or just fire a couple of bucks my way, which I’m extremely appreciative of. The support means a lot, in any fashion. Thank you for all the comments and emails.