Pretty simple stupid stuff here, y’all… to help.
…To help anyone who may be struggling with grief and / or alcoholism. Well… for now… the only way I know how. I can’t act. I can model a bit here and there but at 32 (almost 33) I’m a little out of my prime. I mean I still look good as f**k in a pair of boxer briefs but it’s really become a young man’s game… and I’m okay with that. Let ‘em earn. Bu
t I can write… so I’ll write. I promise to be real. I promise to be authentic. I promise I am not perfect. I’ll write a couple times a month… sharing glimpses of my journey through grief and alcoholism in an online journal… in efforts to demonstrate that the biggest fear for people desperately seeking to escape the grips of G&A is as tough and as real as that monster in the closet…
You are not alone. You are not alone. We are NEVER f**king alone. I promise.
…and throughout my journal entries… throughout these weekly or bi-weekly posts online… I pray and hope that I can articulate this to as many people that are willing to listen. We are not alone. There are no f**king monsters in the closet. I’ll show you. So what say you? Can we do this? You bet your ass we can. And speaking of ‘we’… sharing this story of mine... in a journal format... is pretty f**king personal. Right? Right. So with that comes the anxiety of exposure and vulnerability… It also opens the floodgates to possible character attacks, underserved (and maybe some deserved) judgement, and the potential to develop a cult-like following primarily made up of beautiful, witty, twenty-something year-old women with an insatiable appetite for my dad bod… in my boxer briefs. Needless to say... there's a little bit on the line here... and if any, or all three, of the aforementioned circumstances happen to be a bi-product of this 'big mouth' 'talk-too-much' tell-almost-all journal (that happens to be pretty feminine but it’s okay because I'm a man's man) than I'm going to go ahead and need it to help someone. So feel free to let it help you. After all… you will be bailing me out from poppin’ peaches all day like freakin’ tic-tacs to combat the never-ending stomach knots that comes with this anxious, apprehensive territory… which wouldn’t be very sober. So thanks! God Bless, y'all. (…even the haters)
Chris Pondoff (NA911)
*Checked into rehab for alcoholism: 03-25-14