A What The Hell Happened Story

I wrote this in 2013.  I don’t drink now, happy joyous and free.  I still have my ups and downs, and I am doing the things I need to be doing to be sober.  I only represent myself and no one else.  My higher power has done for me what I could not do for myself.


One late afternoon in February 2013, I was sitting in my chair thinking about Boyd Andrew IOP (out-patient treatment for addiction), and I realized that I was anxious and uneasy about going to IOP. I decided to have a few drinks from my Ice 101 liquor bottle, just four or five minds you. The few memories that I have are mainly involving my computer and my attempt to log on to the machine. Imagine you have a twenty-four character password, say something like this; “%H*15abu.<{]’;Aht$%A&HJW” and you try entering the password fifty-two times in a row, yeah that’s right, fifty-two times in a row. All night long I was doing all sorts of nasty things to my computer, like installing software that I shouldn’t have. At some point, I logged out of my computer and tried logging back in, hence the fifty-two times in a row. I only have a few blurry images in my head, the reason I know what happened at all is that my machine logs everything that happens on itself. The sad thing is that I messed up my computer so bad that I had to reinstall the operating system, on the other hand, I got to rebuild my machine from the start and correct the original mistakes from the initial install… oh wait, did I just minimize and justify my drinking, oops.

Hey wait just a minute, there were other side effects from that bottle too. Somewhere between 1 AM and 5 AM I had what I call a super burp. I was laying on my right side in the bed in the dark when I had a considerable burp, I thought nothing of it. After a bit I noticed that the right side of the bed was very wet, I thought wow I’m really drooling tonight, I drool when I sleep. Since the right side of the bed was wet, I rolled over to the left side, where I promptly had another super burp, again I thought nothing of it. After a bit, the left side became wet too. I laid flat on my back facing straight up at the ceiling trying to avoid the wetness to no avail. So in frustration, I got up and went to the living room and slept till about 5 AM in my big comfy chair.

Well, I tried to sleep, but I didn’t do an excellent job because I felt like shit, stomach queasiness and felt like I had the flu. At 5 AM I got up and went to my bedroom where I turned on the light… shock… My bed was covered all over with vomit, no wonder I couldn’t escape the wetness. It was all over the floor too, and my face and chest were coated with a lovely slime as well. Oh yeah, it was also several inches above the bed too, on the window drapes, how it got there I have no idea. It was all so disgusting, made even worse with the knowledge that I would have to clean it up. I looked over at the bottle and saw that it was empty. Feeling really sick to my stomach I wondered how I went from four or five drinks to an empty bottle and missing IOP completely. Took 2 days to recover and I vowed it would never happen again, yeah but, uh oh I said “yeah but,” the farther away I get, the better looking that bottle gets still.

My feelings on this matter are hard to see as I am not very in touch with my emotions. The first feelings started hours, maybe even a day or two ahead of the incident. I remember feeling anxious and annoyed and dread at having to go to IOP and face my peers yet again and have to tell them I relapsed yet again. Thus those first four or five drinks were all about loosening me up, getting me relaxed and giving me courage. It was also a way of making me feel numb to my emotional pain and making resentments go away. I become hollow inside, devoid of emotions, just a calculator and not a very good one at that. I often wonder what answer I would give if someone had asked me when I was drunk that night what I felt and if I answered honestly I think I would say “nothing.” “Nothing” is exactly what I seek when I drink, just a shell of a man. When I’m drunk, all my pain goes away.

When I wake up all those emotions come flooding back in with the force of a hurricane. It’s incredibly upsetting for me to wake up and know it was all in vain. As an alcoholic, it’s my fantasy to find the nirvana of the alcoholic drink, the one that lasts forever. Some kind of magic potion to make the world as it should be, free from pain and suffering and freeing me from fear. Instead of alcohol just makes my world hurt more, causing more trouble than it’s worth. I need to face my problems healthily, little baby steps that will someday lead to a much better life.

I’m not going to say anymore because every alcoholic knows the story so well that it’s their story and their story is my story. Hoping I stay sober.

Nate Homier

P.S. I saw that my mom had called the night before saying she was coming over to check on me. I didn’t remember her coming over, so I called her and said I just forgot to call her and I said I went to bed early. She said no you didn’t, I did come over and you were passed out drunk. Oops… mother just caught me in a lie courtesy of a blackout.

My Failed Suicide Attempt

If you know someone who you think might be suicidal or is causing you concerns with their talk about their life, then you should get help right away.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline



My first suicide attempt was in my late teens or early twenties, I’d say 16 probably.  I was mad at my parents. I hated and despised them. So I decided that suicide would be an excellent way to get my revenge on them. I don’t remember why I hated my parents, it was probably some stupid little thing that wasn’t even worth getting angry about. Anyhow, I grabbed a bottle of my psychiatric medicine and went into the bathroom and closed the door. I looked at the bottle and pondered death, I wondered if there really was a hell, because if there was, it was considered a sin by the Christian God to commit suicide. I decided that there was no hell and even if there was, it couldn’t be worse than what I considered to be hell on earth. I also mulled over the pain my parents would feel, I smiled and felt great satisfaction as for my siblings or anybody else for that matter. As I pondered these things and looked at the bottle of medicine, my parents went about their doings in the house, totally unaware of what was about to happen. Finally deciding to kill myself, I asked myself how many pills it would take to do me in. I figured that about twenty pills would do me in. So I opened the bottle and poured out about twenty pills and feeling a great sense of revenge overcome me, I asked myself one last time if I really wanted to kill myself and I said to myself, “yes” in a way that only men who are entirely consumed by the fires of resentments and revenge can understand. Smiling to myself, I raise my hand to my mouth and deposit the medicine in my mouth and taking a large gulp of water, I swallow all the pills at once. My hate and desire for revenge are so powerful, it has wholly overcome the natural desire for life, the instinct that forces all life to stay alive at any cost.
Now for the main show. I stood there in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror wondering when and what was going to happen. I did not have to wait long, just a few minutes. First I felt my body becoming heavy, a slowing down of life. Then great sleepiness overcame me, I felt my body begin to sway, and I entered a dark tunnel, the light receding into the distance. I felt my body start to fall over like a tree, and halfway to the floor, I said to myself, “this is it,” and then the darkness came over me entirely and the world seemed lost to me forever and I to it.

Nothing, no dreams, no visions, no hell, no heaven, no becoming a ghost, just nothingness. Devoid of all conscious thought. I was dead. The dead feel nothing, think nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, and there is nothing.

How much time passed, or did time exist for the dead at all. All I know is there was a spark of light and that light begins to grow brighter. Awareness, the first stirrings of thought, I can’t remember those first thoughts, my brain must have still been too deep in darkness to put those first thoughts into memory. Life became a hurricane force roaring back into my body, my eyes now beginning to see color, shapes, and my thinking came to me more clearly and I can remember them. I remember thinking I’m alive and then my second thought was how disappointed I am that I’m alive. I became angry, furious at how pathetic I was, I said to myself that I was a loser who couldn’t even commit suicide properly. By this time I had stood up and begun wondering how much time had passed, minutes, hours, days, no, days didn’t elapse. Otherwise, I’d be waking up in the hospital and it couldn’t be hours because my dad would have broken down the door. So it must be minutes, but how many minutes. I may have failed to commit suicide I said to myself, but I can boldly announce to my parents what I had just done, surely that would give me some satisfaction seeing their reactions. I marched out of the bathroom and proceeded down the hallway to the kitchen. I saw my mother and walked right up to her and said how long was I in the bathroom, she looked at me and said, “I don’t know, maybe ten to fifteen minutes. I was disappointed as I was hoping for thirty or forty-five minutes, just long enough to cause them to worry but not enough for them to knock down the door. Oh well, I thought to myself, I can still salvage this.

In a loud and clear voice and with a big smile on my face and evil in my heart I announce to my mother what I had just done. Immense satisfaction and proud of what I had just done to my mother, I felt as though my revenge was complete. Her face was still for a few seconds, then it changed in a way only mothers of the dead can understand. She begins to cry, whimpering, she called my father. My father strong and powerful emotionally comes to my mother, she tells him what has happened. My father, you can see the look of panic in the eyes, those eyes searching for an answer to what to do. Both my parents are hysterical, mom crying and dad trying to comfort my mother. After a while, they begin to regain composure and start to question me, and they call my psychiatrist. My psychiatrist tells my parents not to worry, he thought that I would do something like this so he had prescribed some medication that would be difficult if not impossible to commit suicide on. This may have been Depakote, I can’t remember. All this time I’m dancing with joy, utter delight at what I have done to my parents, my evil complete.

The doctor tells them that it is impossible to overdose on the medicine, that it would take more pills than the stomach can hold. I am super annoyed with the doctor, that sneaky bastard. My parents much calmed down now, begin to talk with me. I act as if nothing unusual had happened. To get my mom and dad off my back, I say sorry, and it won’t happen again. My parents are still very much upset, but they accept my apology. I don’t remember much after that, I think we were going on a road trip. It was to be two decades before I felt genuinely sorry and guilty for what I had done. I have since made amends to my mother and have wished that I could have made amends to my father while he was still alive, I did write a letter of amends to my father and read it to him even though he was gone. Only with age and working the 12 steps did I mature to the point where I understood that what I did was indeed an evil act, so evil that I would take my own life out of a desire for revenge and hate so powerful that it drove me nearly to death. Most suicides are because the person is in pain. I was in great pain, but this suicide was motivated by an evil desire to cause suffering in two human beings who had given me some sixteen or twenty years of love and caring. It was not always perfect, but they still loved me, and all I could think to do was to hurt them in the worst way possible.

I have been hospitalized a dozen times since then for suicidal thoughts and alcoholism, but never again would my suicidal thoughts be motivated by revenge and hate, in the later years my thoughts of dying were from real pain and suffering. I honestly believe suicide is now gone from my life forever, thanks for taking my mental health recovery seriously and working the 12 steps. I now try to eat right, exercise right, see my therapist, and try to do all the things I need to do to take care of my mental health. Plus I work a 12 step program and have structured sponsorship. I don’t want to cause my mother any more pain.


You see a fuzzy, orange, brown object come into view.  You turn the knob so that the object becomes clear.  You now see the planet Jupiter in all its glory.  You see all kinds of colors, orange, brown, red, white, all swirling together in giant clouds.  You imagine yourself floating in space in orbit around Jupiter.  Weightless and silent as you float gently, looking at Jupiter.  You come back to Earth and marvel at your shiny new toy, you’re so glad that your husband gave you the telescope as a gift.

Love On A Tropical Jewel

You open your eyes, you see blue and you sit up and realize it’s the sky. You hear the sound of crashing waves and look toward the ocean rolling in. Your feet warm and buried in the white sand, you take your feet out of the sand and stand up. You look around and see the coconut trees behind you. Then, off in the distance you see a beautiful woman with a heavenly glow surrounding her, she’s approaching you, you feel a sense of love within you grow and a warmth in your skin. She approaches you and bends over and picks you up, you laugh. She spins both of you around, and you laugh with excitement. You see a man a ways away smiling, a man who will keep you and the woman safe. On this tropical south Pacific island your world is complete and whole. Total and absolute serenity and peace on an island not to be discovered by white people for a thousand years.