Experience, Not Regret

Thinking back, I struggle to pinpoint exactly when I had my first drink, and I’m not even sure what it was. A lot of miles and drinks have passed since then. My best guess is that I was around six years old, grabbing a sip of peppermint schnapps that my grandfather or dad had stashed in our farm truck under the seat.

HUMANITYJUSTICE

Bryan Wempen

9/8/20182 min read

tilt shift lens photography of man standing near body of water
tilt shift lens photography of man standing near body of water

Thinking back, I struggle to remember exactly when I had my first drink or what it was. So much time and so many drinks have passed since those early days. My best guess is that I was around six years old when I found peppermint schnapps in our farm truck—something my grandfather or dad had tucked under the seat to keep warm in the harsh Nebraska winters. Growing up in the middle of Nebraska, alcohol stashed in barns or vehicles was commonplace, justified as a way to fend off the cold. I remember sipping what I called the “candy cane drink,” strangely, even at six, I liked how it made me feel. It was an odd sensation that I knew I enjoyed even at that age. Looking back, I don’t remember all the details, but that lack of clarity almost feels irrelevant. When drinking becomes so ingrained, specifics blur, and the necessity to remember fades.

Over the years, self-medicating with alcohol and drugs became my normal—an escape from daily life, emotions, and sometimes myself. Like many others, I was struggling with how I felt in this world, but as a person with a substance use disorder, it went more profound: I was struggling with how I felt within myself. That feeling of not fitting, of needing something to numb the discomfort, became my “normal.” It’s why I can’t recall exactly when I first smoked pot, tried mushrooms, or dropped acid—it all blends. I know these experiences began in college, where drugs served as a social lubricant, helping me to navigate life in a way I didn’t think I could otherwise.

As I work on my second book, Sober Is Better, I dive deeper into my full recovery journey. This book isn’t just about quitting alcohol—it’s about confronting all the substances and behaviors that dominated my life. I’ve realized it’s time to tell the whole story, one that includes not only the drugs and alcohol but the broader patterns of addiction that had control over me. Recovery, for me, is about much more than just reaching sobriety; it’s about understanding and healing from the underlying trauma and pain that fueled my addictions.

What humbles me most about recovery is hearing other people’s stories—their battles with addiction, the challenges of relapse, and, hopefully, their survival. Recovery is a complex, non-linear, and deeply personal process, but it’s in these shared experiences that we find the strength to keep going. Through Sober Is Better, I aim to share my journey and honor the stories of those fighting their battles, showing that recovery is possible, no matter how difficult the road is.

I’ve decided to share more to help myself process and hope that my story might help others struggling with the same demons. Addiction is universal, but recovery is where we reclaim our individuality and our humanity.

-Bryan