What a Long, Strange Trip

Not for the faint of heart, you are warned.

My journey began on a misty day in Springfield, Oregon in 1978, the year and place of my birth. I awoke, releasing subtle cries that foreshadowed experiences to come. Throughout my life, I've screamed in pain and joy, through frustration, and sometimes for no reason at all. 

Although I could continue reminiscing about my past, let's cut to the chase. I had opportunities and squandered them. As a young child, I learned to play the piano, participating in various music lessons throughout kindergarten and grade school on an old, heavy, early 1900s upright piano. Despite being slightly out of tune with an odd tone, it served me well. Inspired by Gary Larson's "The Far Side," I fantasized about becoming a cartoonist. My father taught me various cooking skills like making scrambled eggs and pancakes while I independently ventured into baking cakes, pies, cookies, and exploring vegetarianism. I vaguely talked about my dreams, I attended an art camp that taught cartooning. And promptly filed what I'd learned to the back of my brain.

However what I lacked in motivation, Iwas never scared or intimidated getting up in front of people I was funny, smart, and a very quick study, and started building my intellect and crafts at a very young age. Music, food, art, and wearing my heart on my sleeve.

Fig. 1: Home made meatball sub. Holy crunch-roll Batman, it was Good! Half pork, half beef.

Chicken stock, mirepoix with classics. Onion, celery, carrots, garlic, garlic powder, onion powder.

 Spicy green chilis, smoked paprika. Tomatoes and fresh picked basil. Making food is good.

It amuses me to think about the things I've given up over time and the things that have come to dominate my life. It's important for me to be completely honest from the start. I come from a family where problematic drinking was common. Were they alcoholics? It's sometimes hard to say, but my father certainly was. However, I choose not to speak ill of those who have passed away. He and I had our issues, but we reconciled before he passed. So it has become natural to admit considering the circumstances that: 

My Name is Jeremy and I am an Alcoholic.

If you are an employer, partner, potential partner, potential girlfriend, platonic friend, or member of a three-letter state or federal government associate, that may make you wince. Hold on, it gets worse before it gets a lot better.

Over the years, I kept telling myself that I had everything under control and that my actions weren't hurting anyone except me. In some ways, I was both right and wrong. Even though I've never been violent, driven under the influence, or caused any issues, I must admit that I was emotionally absent. I gave up on my passions – art, photography, cartooning, and especially music, which once defined me. During my freshman year at university, I was the talk of the music school and performed at various venues. However, for reasons that seem unimportant now, I stopped. My focus shifted to alcohol and chasing paychecks.

I was married to a wonderful woman for 16 years, and while there's enough blame to be shared in our divorce, I must take responsibility for my actions and live with their consequences.

I became emotionally distant and abandoned my passions. I left behind art, photography, cartooning, and even music - which was a significant part of my identity. During my freshman year at university, I was the talk of the music school and performed five nights a week or more. My performances ranged from playing for an international ambassador to busking in Britain, captivating both large and intimate audiences in various venues. However, I stopped for reasons that now seem trivial. Though I occasionally played the bodhran or penny whistle, my musical career went into hibernation. Alcohol and the pursuit of financial stability consumed me during my 16-year marriage to a wonderful woman. While both of us shared responsibility for our eventual divorce, I must accept the blame for my actions and live with their consequences.While there is plenty, plenty of blame to go around (in what divorce is anyone completely blameless?), only I can blame and live with what I did.

My wife and I divorced, I am convinced being an alcoholic was a major factor.

We lost both houses, split up pets, and assets to the appropriate person. That was about seven years ago, and I began to spiral. I was and am very lonely. I couldn't put my finger on why. It turns out it was because I was trapped in the cycle of self-abuse.

I engaged in self-destructive behavior that was shocking.

Details may not seem significant, but they paint a vivid picture. I spent all my earnings on legal, but morally questionable pursuits. I did help some people who were desperately in need, but my life faced one of two conclusions: sobriety or oblivion. Due to excessive indulgence in alcohol, my kidneys failed, and at the age of 40, I was on dialysis. I endured multiple surgeries and even started to break bones savagely. 

One incident occurred when I was cooking on an electric stove, and managed to make it blow up in flames. It knocked me back 12 feet and I landed face-first into a cactus garden and twisted on a recent major surgery location. I pulled myself to the stove and safely put out a fire on an electric element that had started with a single drop of oil hitting said element. I fell back to the floor and didn't move. I didn't have any pain medication, and I passed out from the utter hell feeling screws and rods and bones and sockets move to places they shouldn't be.

Both my left and right thigh bones have been crushed extensively and it required titanium rods and screws.

Legs were broken, my pelvis cracked, and I split my head wide open and had 22 staples pounded into my skull. I was seeing and hearing things that weren't there due to alcohol poisoning. I couldn't walk, had tubes hanging out of my chest, and a series of tubes on my backside connected to a machine that sucked dead tissue out of me. I had uric acid levels and jaundice so bad I looked like the color of a banana. It turned the dialysis machines the color of former President Trump. My hair fell out. My skin looked like a mummified Edward James Olmos.

I've been the subject of Death Panels, my survival was thanks to four of seven doctors 

who voted to continue treatment.

When I was at hospital in Beaverton Oregon, seven doctors voted on whether to send me home to hospice with a metric ton of morphine. It was decided by one vote. They all believed I was so far gone I'd never hear of this, but I did. I am actually that good. I also know that the doctor that led the charge for the hospice and morphine vote. Funny enough, she ended up being the one primary hospital care doctors for me. I've never seen someone so bitter and unhappy.

I've almost died nine times. Nine. I don't get any more do-overs.

In 2019/2020, I spent 16 months sober. However, I eventually relapsed, leading to further hospitalizations, physical therapy, and addictive pain management. In March 2023, a family member rescued me from near-death and drove me from Texas to Oregon. Along the way, we stopped at the Petrified Forest, where I vomited on an ancient tree. We also visited an ER in Utah and made a pit stop in Roswell.

One night in a hotel, I was so unwell that my family member and a hotel worker had to strap me into a rolling chair and push me into my room. While still struggling to recover, I had to rely on anti-seizure medication and alcohol tapering as cold turkey detox can be lethal. This continued for about a week after returning home.

After spending some time in the local hospital, I started the detox process. It was incredibly challenging and took over a month before things started to improve slightly. Eventually, I discovered that strong coffee and Tylenol could help me manage. And so began my journey towards recovery. It took a little more than a month till I got to the IT'S STILL REALLY SHITTY stage from the INSANE phase.

We got back home. I spent a few days in the local hospital. And I detoxed. It was INSANE. And I had a revelation while I calmly meditated. After a strong cup of coffee, a 500mg Tylenol, and I did three things. 

1. I set up a micro and macro vitamin and mineral regimen. It is ~15 pills per day, each one for something specific.

2. I started the first draft of my infamous The ToDo. A list documented a bulleted checklist of what I will do for the next 10 years of my life.

3. Had another cup of coffee, and GOT TO WORK.

I didn't have a W2 job, it would have been career suicide to even try. But I do have a technology consultancy. It was around this time that I started revisiting cryptocurrency research , cloud security architecture, Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning, playing music, and creating pretty outstanding visual arts.

What I have accomplished, performing for the world, and reigniting my absolute love for technology...

...was all MY idea. I went back to all these creative, analytical, complex, long-term projects not because I was told to, but because I HAD to.  I didn't have a choice. I had to create, I had to research, I had to discover, I had to learn. When you are compelled to create, to make, to build by no one but yourself, it is nothing short of magical.

This doesn't mean I am some kind of genius

35 years of experience in creative and analytical fields, performing in high-pressure, difficult, challenging, and exposed positions trained me to be ready for this. Quitting drinking, admitting it to myself, and making amends in the way I know how, was literally the magnesium fire starter and tank of gas under my behind. I took responsibility, and continue to do so for my actions. What I can say is I have convinced several people already, just by being sober me, to get sober themselves. If that's all I do in life, it's worth it.

As the line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail stated, "I'm Not Dead Yet, I Feel Happy!" I finally know what that means. And there is a saying I learned from Eric Weinstein a while back:

"Most people, at their end, have never heard their own voice."

After the work I've finished in the last 4 years is all I have to show for myself, I am content and happy about that.

And that is mostly it. The ToDo is long, and growing longer. It will never be complete, it will never be finished, but it is my guide.

Thank you for reading. Let's make something together.

Jeremy Pickett

7/12/2023-03/01/2033