A much too personal story

If found please return to Michael Gilbride unopened please

Dear diary…

The protein muffins my wife made are hurting my stomach agai-

…oh, hello.

Welcome to the personal side of my Substack, I’m disturbed that you found your way here.

Since nothing is sacred in this digital world… make yourself comfortable and I’ll tell you a little story.

I shared this story on a mentorship call the other day with one of my students… and I wasn’t sure if it was too personal, but a few hours later I got a message from the student saying that it had changed her perspective completely.

So I figured maybe it might help someone here… and, well… here we are.

*clears throat*

So first, let me give you some context:

I have a student in our mentorship program that is wildly creative…. a true artist by every measure of the word (who shall remain anonymous since this is MY diary after all.)

And this student, let’s call her…… Angie…(?)…..

Angie expressed to me that while she’s incredibly passionate about her art, she’s not “strong enough” to share it with others quite yet.

Now… I can smell a limiting belief from a mile away (it’s one of the many gifts of having an incredibly large nose)… and this idea of not being “strong enough yet” triggered this much too personal story…

…and it goes a little something like this….

---

A few years ago, I started smoking weed pretty regularly.

… and by pretty regularly, I mean every day lol.

My wife and I had just moved to Nashville, still very much in our honeymoon era, and I was finally working in the music industry (and doing pretty well).

Every night when I clocked off work, I’d walk onto the back porch and spark up a lil somethin somethin while I looked up at the stars.

I’d feel the edges of my gaze start to soften, and the all-too-familiar feel of simultaneous anxiety and relief would wash over me as I walked back into the house.

I’d spend my nights hanging with my wife… ordering our favorite foods and just enjoying our time together.

And for a while, it was really, really nice.

But as time went on, the call of the “back porch” started getting annoyingly intrusive.

What once felt like a fun adventure now felt like an obligation… and I found myself reaching for the goods more than I even wanted to.

As I’d get close to clocking off for the night, I’d feel this oppressive nervousness about “should I? shouldn’t I?”, and more often than not, I thought I should.

And one day, as I grabbed my lighter… I asked myself bluntly:

“Am I addicted to weed?”

This was an especially triggering question for me… as I’ve always prided myself on my ability to practice self-control (something about growing up with a German mother…)

But I had to ask… was I simply “not strong enough” (using Angie’s phrase) to say no to weed?

And after some reflection, I came to a (somewhat unconventional) answer.

No. I’m not addicted to weed. This is a choice that I am making, and I need to own that decision. I am choosing to smoke every time.

And for the next few weeks, I dealt with the reality that every time I smoked, I was making a deliberate decision…

Sometimes, I’d really enjoy it and be glad I smoked.

And sometimes, it made my life miserable.

For example, I’d feel this overwhelming shame anytime my wife needed to run to grab groceries and I, like little child who pooped his pants and had to get picked up from school, sat helpless in the passenger seat.

Or I’d walk away from interactions ruminating on how awkward I was…

(Although now that I think of it, I feel this way sober.)

But each time I smoked, I accepted that it was my decision.

And I owned that for a while.

But eventually - after longer than I care to admit of smoking regularly - my wife got pregnant. ON PURPOSE.

Which meant the “honeymoon” phase of hanging out and ordering pizza was, as all things do, coming to a worthy close.

In 9 months our life was going to look very different.

And doctors appointments, health scares, and an impending little human meant that I needed to be available (and sober) at a moment’s notice….

Suddenly it wasn’t so cool to be the stoner husband who ran a record label in Nashville…. it was time to grow up.

And in the early days of my wife’s pregnancy, I kept smoking.

I wasn’t addicted, I was making a decision… it was just a poor one.

One that I am not proud of.

But as shameful as it was to acknowledge that I was consciously making this decision….

It also left the door open for me to stop whenever I wanted to.

After all, if I was deciding to smoke…. this means I could also decide not to.

And one day, as I prepared to clean out the room that would ultimately become our son’s nursery, I knew the time had come…

My wife was a few months into her pregnancy, and the risks of not being sober were becoming so apparent that no moral ju-jistu could justify my actions.

I remember my brain poking around looking desperately for some justification, but it was obvious that it was time to stop.

So I did.

I stopped.

And I’m happy to report that I haven’t smoked since.

Now - what’s the point of this incredibly invasive look into my life’s vices?

This isn’t a confession (or admittance of guilt if the feds are reading this…), but a longwinded way of sharing how I learned that sometimes we make choices that hurt ourselves (and others).

Why do we do it? That’s a topic for another Substack…

… but we do it nonetheless.

And as tempting as it is to simply say we aren’t strong enough to do something, we almost always are.

But that means, in the meantime, acknowledging that you’re choosing to do something that hurts yourself and potentially others…. and that’s a tough pill to swallow.

I made some poor decisions… decisions I feel bad about… and I’m blessed to have a wife who (at all stages of my life) has helped me to become a better person.

But they were MY decisions.

Which is why when it was undoubtedly time to stop…. I was able to stop.

And now, just days away from welcoming my first baby into the world, I’m glad I did.

The last few months navigating my wife’s pregnancy have been truly magical, and I’m glad I did it sober. Frankly, watching a human grow inside your wife is trippy enough without the drugs…

I have a newfound respect for the temptations of the world’s many vices, but I also have a newfound belief in my ability to use them responsibly.

So…

Angie, (and those who might feel similarly)….

Whatever can you’re kicking down the road…. stop telling yourself it’s because you aren’t strong enough to face it.

You’re simply choosing not to right now, and that’s quite alright by me…..I know exactly what that feels like.

But when the time comes, and the opportunity for change is knocking...

You’re strong enough to make that decision as well.

… anyways, I’m SO glad this diary is private.

I’d be horrified if people heard what I was doing behind the scenes.

Thanks diary, you rock.

🫡⚔️🫡⚔️

Michael from mad records