This intro has taken me a while to write because it was an extremely emotional experience for me, and it happened at a “welcome to the neighborhood” party this past week. 

If you’ve followed along over the past year, you know we moved into a new house last November. And our next-door neighbors were gracious enough to host a welcome party for us to meet other neighbors.

My 10-year-old spent most of the party attached to me. Hand on my arm, leaning against me, full hugging me randomly. I could tell he was nervous; there weren’t any other kids at the party, and he didn’t know anyone. So I got it. He needed his dad, and that was completely cool to me. 

I was in conversation with an older gentleman who had the normal surface-level questions: Who are you? What do you do? Where do you live? How long have you lived there? 

Ah, he recently retired! Amazing. 

I congratulated him; he said thanks, and then out of nowhere said, “I don’t know where the time’s gone.” He said it twice in the course of our 5-minute conversation. He also mentioned his son, who is older and living out of state. And the way he said it, you could feel the distance. It didn’t feel like bitterness… just longing. Longing for something missed. Longing for past laughter and experiences that are now just fond memories. 

I stood there holding my son’s hand while this man held onto the memory of his. 

It was absolutely wild and I’m emotional just thinking about it while writing these words. This man was reaching for something that had already disappeared years ago and I was holding the hand of the thing he lost. 

Being present is something I think about and strive for daily. I’ve written before about trying to hold onto moments before they slip away. Entry 32 from over a year ago explains it best:

I try really hard to be present. But sometimes that instinct to capture is followed by a subtle sadness. Like even while I’m living the moment, I can already feel the future version of me missing it.

And I don’t want it to feel like loss or regret. But some days, it’s hard not to focus on the parts that are already slipping away. Other times, it feels more hopeful. It’s a reminder to pay attention. To slow down. To be grateful I even noticed the moment in the first place.

As crazy as it seems, I think the universe was trying to show me something. Give me a hint of what it feels like to look back and long for past experiences. 

I don't know this man's whole life. Maybe the calls with his son are great. But something about the way he said it told me he wasn't just making conversation. He was trying to hand me something. A preview, maybe. Or a warning. Or just a guy who needed someone to hear it.

So here's what I keep coming back to. My son needing to hold my hand at a party full of strangers is not a burden. It's not an inconvenience. It's the thing this retired man would trade a lot to have back for one more Thursday.

I don't have a neat close for this one because it’s heavy. All I can do is internalize this lesson and send good vibes out to this neighbor who I hope to see again.

♥️ kyle

2 Years / No Alcohol

Two years ago, I was in bed with a 102 fever (after a very fun RKO), coughing up a lung, and I remember thinking: this is the longest I've gone without alcohol since college. I haven’t consumed alcohol since. 

I know some of you are thinking... "Well, Kyle, that's not too bad. Didn't you graduate from college only a couple of years ago?" Oh, you are so kind! I knew my food-and-face routine was working. :) Unfortunately for me, I graduated in 2006.

So yah... four-ish days without a drink was a personal record for the better part of two decades. And that's where it ended. 

I don't have a rock bottom story for the LinkedIn algorithm, but I'm sharing because it's one of the better decisions I've made in my life. I highly, highly recommend trying it out for a variety of reasons, but here's what two years without a drink has gotten me:

• I'm getting better sleep because I'm not waking up in the middle of the night dehydrated with a massive headache. My Whoop thanks me. 

• I have more energy than I did in my 20s. 

• My memory is still terrible, but it's slightly better than hungover Kyle

• I've officially dealt with my social anxiety. I don't need a drink to work a room. 

• 15-20 lbs gone without doing anything except NOT drinking Double IPAs every night. 

• I started writing and reading again (almost) every morning without the Dogfish fog. 

• Renewed trust in myself and my ability to overcome challenges. 

• I'm now a sparkling water aficionado. Saratoga is the GOAT. 

• ZERO hangxiety. I'll just leave that there because you know what I'm talking about. 

And the most important win: I'm working on my head trash in a meaningful way instead of slowly drowning it, which I've been doing since the early 2000s. 

Thinking about quitting? Here’s the playbook if you need something to try tomorrow instead of picking up that beer. 

Stop waiting for the rock bottom. I didn't have one. A bad flu isn't a redemption arc, it's just a flu. You don't need a dramatic reason to stop; you just need to stop.

Find your replacement ritual before you need it. Mine was sparkling water, always in a glass, always with lime. Sounds dumb. Wasn't dumb. Your hands need something to do and your brain needs the cue it's used to.

Tell one person, not everyone. I didn't announce it. I just told my wife and let the rest catch on over time. You don't owe anyone an explanation for taking care of yourself.

Expect the anxiety to show up, not disappear. Whatever the alcohol was covering for doesn't go away when the alcohol does. It just finally has the floor. Deal with that directly instead of being surprised by it.

Give it 30 days before you decide anything. The first few weeks are the worst sales pitch for sobriety you'll ever get. The version of this that actually feels good doesn't show up right away.

If I can do it, so can you. Go get it done.