Honie Briggs

It’s real, but it’s hard to face the truth. It’s just too terrible. Others have more talent, more wit, more upgrades, but you don’t care. The first time you experience the bloggers high, you’re overtaken by obsession. After that, nothing else matters. Not food, not sleep, life before the blog becomes a distant memory. That’s when it happens. The gateway opens; you step through and let the good times roll. At first it’s just coffee, but before you know it, empty Red Bull cans and Pure Protein wrappers are scattered around the room. Your friends start to question if you are taking the whole blogging thing just a little too seriously. You persevere. You cannot allow their doubts to become your doubts. With your sights set on a single goal, you redouble your efforts and press on, with gusto!

Soon the giant bag of chocolate covered espresso beans left over from your Y2K survival bag is empty. This is an early warning sign. You ignore it and text your spouse to stop by Costco on their way home. The phone rings.

“What do you mean you don’t have time? It will only take a minute,” you say. “All we need are paper plates, coffee and some snacks. Hey, get those espresso beans you like.”

Your spouse says, “But I don’t like those beans.”

“Oh sure you do, why do you think we ran out of them so fast? Oh, and be a dear and pick up another case of Red Bull. Love ya, gotta go, I’m on a deadline.”

Then you think, dinner, damn it! You call Dominos and order two large pizzas with extra cheese. You hear yourself saying it, but it’s almost like someone else’s voice, “Tell the delivery guy there’s a ten spot in it for him if he’ll swing by the 7-Eleven and pick up a couple of 5 Hour Energy Shots; the berry flavor if they have it. Thanks.”

Hours go by. Your iTunes playlist hits 99 Luftballoons for the second time. It’s morning again, you can’t stop tapping the keyboard, but the words won’t come. Your steady diet of cheese pizza, protein bars and caffeine has finally caught up with you. You’re stuck; blocked. You’ve hit a plateau, but you can’t turn back now.

You convince yourself it’s for the best and you resort to the only thing left that will get you going and give you back your edge. You start small, cutting it with Vitamin water. Before long, you become dependent on a daily dose and you don’t even try to hide it. You leave a trail hoping someone will have the guts to take a stand and help you get the monkey off your back. But who? Your friends have given up trying to get you out of the house. Your family has learned not to disturb you when you’re “in the zone.” One day, after months of the vicious cycle, your loved ones confront you. “We know you’ve been juicing.”

In a statement to your readers you admit you have a problem. You didn’t want to let them down because you know how much they believe in you, but you’re not a machine. The most important thing now is to live to write another day. Things like this happen to pro athletes, sure. You never think it can happen to you.