Have you ever wondered what it looks like to be still fighting alcohol and also celebrating how far you’ve come? Mark’s story shows that freedom isn’t always a straight line. Growing up in a world where drinking was normal, he learned early that alcohol was part of every party, every holiday, and most family memories. Years later, after quitting for decades, slipping, and quitting again, Mark finds himself still fighting alcohol—but this time with more wisdom, more support, and a powerful desire to be present for his grandkids, his wife, and his own health.
Growing Up in a World Where Alcohol Was Just “Normal”
I don’t remember a time when alcohol wasn’t around. From a really young age, it was just there—at family gatherings, holidays, cookouts, and weekends. I saw a lot of crazy things that came with drinking, especially around family, cousins, and friends. Looking back, I can see how much chaos and drama was tied to alcohol, but at the time it just felt normal.
I had my first beer around 14 at my uncle’s place. Nobody really questioned it. It was almost like a rite of passage. If you were old enough to hang with the adults, you were old enough to drink like them. The message was clear: it wasn’t a party without booze.
As I got older, that belief only got stronger. Everyone I knew drank—a lot. It was the center of almost everything fun. If there was a celebration, there was alcohol. If there was a bad day, there was alcohol. When you grow up in that kind of environment, it never occurs to you that there might be another way to live.
I didn’t think I was doing anything unusual. I was just doing what everyone around me did. But those early years laid the foundation for what was coming later. It’s only now, as I’m still fighting alcohol and examining my beliefs, that I can see how deeply it was woven into my life from the very beginning.
When “Just Having Fun” Turned Into a Daily Habit
Things started to shift in my early 30s. By then, almost all of my family and friends were drinking on a pretty much daily basis. It wasn’t just parties anymore; it was life.
Golf? We drank. Yard work? We drank. Holidays? Definitely drank. Stress at home with my wife and kids? I drank. Stress at work? I drank.
There wasn’t much I did back then without alcohol. It became my default setting—my way of coping, relaxing, celebrating, and numbing out. I told myself I was just unwinding, but there was this quiet voice inside me that knew something wasn’t right. Alcohol had become my companion for everything, my go-to solution for every situation, whether I was celebrating or struggling.
I tried to control it plenty of times. I’d start the week strong, telling myself, “I’m not drinking until Friday.” That was the plan. I’d feel determined Monday morning, maybe even make it through Monday night. But by the time Wednesday rolled around—if I even made it that far—the cravings and stress would win. I’d pour a drink and tell myself I’d try again next week.
The shame of breaking that promise to myself over and over again started piling up. Then I started hiding it. Hiding it from my wife, my family, my friends. When you’re hiding something, you know deep down it’s a problem. That’s when the shame really starts to build. I felt like I was living a double life: the man who had it all together on the outside, and the man who couldn’t make it to Wednesday without a drink. set.
Twenty Years Alcohol-Free, a Return to Drinking, and Still Fighting Alcohol
By the time I hit 38, I knew I had to quit. It wasn’t a maybe anymore. It was a matter of my marriage, my health, and my life. I talked to my family, some really close friends, doctors, and a few trusted people who had known me for years. Some of those lifelong friends—both men and women—saved me. They gave me grace when I couldn’t give it to myself.
I went to AA and did my best with it. I didn’t find all the answers there, but kept fighting. Every day, I leaned into God even more and did everything I could to stay afloat. And you know what? I stopped. I quit drinking for 20 years.
Twenty years is a long time. Two entire decades. Somewhere along the way, I fooled myself into believing I had outgrown the problem. I told myself, “I’m older now, more experienced. I can handle it. I’m different.” That thought was the hook.
Here We Go Again
I picked alcohol back up, thinking I could control it this time. How wrong I was. It didn’t take long—about two years—before it grabbed me all over again. That’s when I realized that alcohol doesn’t care how old you are, how wise you think you’ve become, or how long you’ve been away from it. When you’re vulnerable, it finds its way back in.
This time, it began hitting my health in ways I couldn’t ignore. Fatigue, worry, that constant nagging sense that something bad was brewing inside my body. The enjoyment was gone, but the habit stayed.
That’s part of why I say I’m still fighting alcohol. Not because I’m failing, but because I’m still engaged in the fight. I haven’t given up on myself.
Free First Chapter: This Naked Mind
In the middle of all this, finding new tools has been a game-changer. One of the most helpful has been This Naked Mind by Annie Grace.
If you’re where I’ve been—stuck in the “I’ll quit Monday” loop, or coming back from a return to drinking—you don’t have to do this alone or rely on willpower forever. You can download the first chapter of This Naked Mind for free and start reading today.
That first chapter might be the moment you realize you’re not broken, you’re not alone, and there’s a clear, science-backed path to changing your relationship with alcohol, one belief at a time.
How This Naked Mind Helped Me Feel Less Alone
When my health really started to take a hit, I went to my healthcare provider. That’s when she mentioned This Naked Mind. I picked up the book and something clicked.
Reading someone else’s experience—words on a page that sounded like my own thoughts—helped soothe my soul. I had spent so long thinking my struggle was unique, that there was something especially wrong with me. Seeing my story reflected back at me helped break that shame.
The book helped me see that my brain wasn’t my enemy. Alcohol had been wired in through repetition, beliefs, and years of habit, especially in a culture where drinking was everywhere. Understanding the brain science behind why I drank made it less about “I’m weak” and more about “Oh, this actually makes sense.”
I stopped again for two years after reading the book the first time. Then I returned to drinking. Now I’m reading This Naked Mind for the third or fourth time, and each time I discover something new. I’ve just quit again—one week alcohol-free as I’m telling this story.
It might sound strange, but this time feels different, even though I’m still fighting alcohol. I’m also learning from it. I’m asking better questions: What am I really trying to escape when I reach for a drink? What am I afraid to feel? What do I actually want my retirement and grandparent years to look like?
The more curious I get, the less power alcohol has over me. I’m learning that alcohol-free living isn’t about willpower alone. It’s about changing how you think about alcohol, understanding what it really does to your body and mind, and finding better ways to meet the needs that alcohol seemed to fill.
Retirement, Grandkids, and the Future I Want Without Alcohol
Right now, I’m one week out from my last drink, and I just don’t want to feel the withdrawals one more freaking time. I know what’s waiting for me if I go back: anxiety, shame, health problems, and that awful feeling of “here we go again.” I know it’s slowly killing me. The enjoyment is gone.
At the same time, my life is filled with reasons to keep going. My daughter just had a baby girl. I have a baby stepson. Retirement is here, and instead of numbing my way through it, I want to really live it. I want to see my grandkids grow up. I want to enjoy my family and travel without needing a drink all the time.
I’m blessed in so many ways and I’m genuinely thankful for what I have: a great wife, a good job, kids and friends I care about, and a future that’s still being written. These aren’t just words anymore. They’re the reality I’m choosing every single day.
That’s part of what makes this stage feel celebratory. I’m still fighting alcohol, yes—but I’m doing it with my eyes open, my heart grateful, and my focus on what truly matters to me.
If I could go back and tell my younger self one thing, it would be simple: you don’t need alcohol and don’t start. But I can’t go back. What I can do is make different choices today, right now, in this moment. I can be present for my grandchildren in ways I wasn’t always able to be present for my own kids. Travel with my wife and actually remember the trips. Enjoy retirement without the fog, the hangovers, the shame, and the health problems.
Why I’m Not Giving Up on Myself
My story isn’t a neat “problem-then-solution” arc. It’s messy. It’s full of stops and starts, long stretches of being alcohol-free, painful returns to drinking, and a lot of learning. But that’s real life.
Every time I’ve stopped drinking, every time I’ve started again, and every time I’ve found the courage to quit once more, I’ve learned something about myself. I’ve learned that my relationship with alcohol was never really about the alcohol itself. It was about what I thought it was giving me—relief from stress, a way to celebrate, permission to relax, a sense of belonging.
I’ve learned that the reasons I drank have changed over the years. What started as social drinking became emotional drinking became habitual drinking became dependent drinking. Understanding this progression has helped me have more compassion for myself. I’m not weak. I’m not a failure.
Still Fighting
I’m still fighting alcohol, but I’m no longer fighting myself. Still learning to give myself grace, to lean on my faith, to accept support from family and friends, and to use tools like This Naked Mind to understand what’s really going on in my brain and my heart.
I don’t have it all figured out. What I do have is a deep desire to be present—for my wife, my kids, my grandkids, and for myself. I want to wake up in the morning without wondering what damage I did the night before. I want retirement to be about living, not recovering.
The fact that I’m still fighting alcohol after all these years doesn’t mean I’ve failed. It means I haven’t given up. It means that every single day, I’m choosing life, choosing health, choosing presence, choosing love. And that’s worth celebrating.
My journey isn’t over. I’m only a week into this new chapter, but I have tools now that I didn’t have before. I have This Naked Mind and the understanding it’s given me. I have the support of my family and friends. I have reasons to stay alcohol-free that are stronger than any craving. Most importantly, I have the knowledge that no matter how many times I fall, I can always get back up.
So this is where I am today: honest, hopeful, and still here. If you see yourself in my story—even a little—know this: you’re not alone, you’re not broken, and it’s never too late to choose a different path.
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