When I was struggling with alcoholism, I hit a low point and ended up having to move back in with my parents. They made me start taking that, “antabuse” stuff. It, uh, didn’t work. I’d continue drinking with it, and the only thing that would happen is I would break out in giant red splotches. Never got sick from it. Didn’t do a damn thing.

What DID help, was living in a safe space with my wife, far away, with access to weed. Living in that supportive helpful environment was the trick that finally lead me to realize “ya know, if ever there was a future where I lost all of this great stuff I have going for me, surely it would be the future where I keep drinking.” For some reason getting high always helps me put things in perspective and process trauma, and dang if it didn’t end up working that day. I went from drinking a bottle of bourbon a day, to nothing. Sober now almost 7 years. I owe it all to my (now ex)wife and my ability to use weed without police fucking me over for it.