I was 13 years old when I first tasted freedom. It wasn’t found in the reckless abandon of adolescence or the thrill of rebellion—it came in a murky bottle of homemade lemon gin.
Back then, I carried a universe of fears on my shoulders. Not the kind born of tangible threats or real-world monsters, but shadows I’d conjured myself. I was a child architect of my own undoing, building elaborate fairy tales of inadequacy, rejection, and dread. These stories felt so real, so *inescapable*, that I convinced myself the only way to survive them was to drown them.
The first sip was an awakening. The sharp tang of citrus burned my throat, but it washed over my mind like a tidal wave .For the first time, the noise stopped. The demons I’d invented—the ones whispering that I wasn’t enough, that the world was too much—fell silent. In that moment, the bottle became both my savior and my jailer.
#### **The Concocted Realities**
I spent years believing I’d outsmarted my pain. Alcohol wasn’t a crutch; it was a *solution*. A way to rewrite the narratives I’d trapped myself in. If I drank enough, I could blur the edges of my self-doubt, smudge the lines between my imaginary failures and the truth.
But here’s the cruel irony of denial: the louder we silence our fears, the more power we give them. What began as a teenage experiment spiraled into a lifeline. The same drink that promised freedom became a coffin I carried on my back. By the time I realized I was burying myself alive, I’d nearly run out of air.
#### **The Demons We Drink, The Truths We Swallow**
Addiction is a shapeshifter. It starts as a friend, then becomes a dictator. My homemade lemon gin—once a symbol of rebellion—morphed into a prison of isolation. The fears I’d tried to erase grew claws. The fairy tales I’d written turned into nightmares: hospital beds, broken promises, a body and spirit pushed to the edge.
But rock bottom has a strange way of clarity. Lying in a hospital room at 25, wires tethering me to machines and guilt heavier than any hangover, I finally asked: *What am I running from?*
The answer wasn’t in the bottle. It was in the stories I’d told myself. The ones where I was unlovable, unworthy, doomed to fail. I’d spent years numbing emotions I refused to name, fighting battles that existed only in my mind.
#### **Letting Go: The Unbrew**
Recovery didn’t start with sobriety. It started with honesty.
I had to dismantle the fairy tales brick by brick. To sit with the terrified 13-year-old who thought gin was the only language I understood. To forgive ,to rewrite my story without villains or victims—just a guy learning, slowly, that he deserved more than the lies he been sold.
Letting go meant trading the bottle for vulnerability. Trading denial for the messy, unglamorous work of healing. It meant staring down those imaginary demons and saying, *“You’re not real. But I am.”*
#### ** Redemption Is a Journey, Not a Destination**
This isn’t a story about triumph. It’s a story about survival. About how the same imagination that built cages can also tear them down.
In my book, I share the details—the stumbles, the relapses, the moments of grace that kept me fighting. But here’s what I’ll say now: ** redemption isn’t found in perfection**. It’s in the courage to face the stories we’ve told ourselves and say, *“Enough.”*
That homemade lemon gin? It’s just a memory now. A bittersweet relic of a guy who thought he needed poison to feel alive. Today, I choose a different kind of awakening: one breath, one truth, one imperfect step at a time.
Please send along any comments or suggestions to gerard.tripping@gmail.com
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### **Closing Reflection**
*If you saw yourself in these words—if you’ve ever fought invisible demons or numbed the noise with something that hurt more than it helped—know this: Your story isn’t over. Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is let go of the lies we’ve clung to and write a new ending.*
**P.S.** *Curious about the full journey? Tripping Over Myself A Journey from Addiction and Anxiety to Awareness and Peace dives deeper into the chaos, clarity, and quiet miracles that saved my life. Available