Saturday, July 18, 2026

By this point, there had been so many changes at work that it no longer felt like the place I had once loved. We had an entirely different management team, and then I was placed under the supervision of a woman I had trained myself.

At the time, I convinced myself that was the breaking point.

Looking back now, I know it wasn’t.

Alcohol was.

Almost every day, I would leave during my lunch break and drive to the liquor store. I would sneak drinks at my desk throughout the afternoon and then drive home intoxicated without thinking twice about it.

One afternoon, I drank far more than I should have during lunch. By around two o’clock, I could barely keep my eyes open. I went out to my car to take another drink from the larger bottle of Fireball I kept there.

Instead, I fell asleep in the backseat.

I have no idea how long I had been there.

The next thing I remember was someone tapping on my window.

It was one of my coworkers.

I was escorted into Human Resources.

I tried to explain that I had recently started a new medication and that it had made me feel sick.

It was a lie.

And I think they knew it.

They sent me home that afternoon. I was heavily intoxicated, and I honestly don’t remember driving home.

Over the weekend, I made the decision to resign.

I was convinced that if I went back on Monday, I would be fired anyway.

The hardest part for me to admit now is that I didn’t feel ashamed.

I was angry.

I blamed management for putting me under someone I had trained. I blamed the changes at work. I blamed everything except the one thing that was actually destroying my life.

Alcohol.

I kept telling myself everything would be fine. I had worked for the state for nearly nine years. I had always been a good employee. I’d find another job.

At the time, I truly believed I was walking away because of them.

Looking back now, I know I was really walking away because alcohol had taken control of my life.

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