Twelve Years Sober, and Finally Going Back to the Beginning

On recovery, reinvention, and the record that ties it all together.

Today marks twelve years of sobriety for me. And if you'll allow me a few minutes, I want to talk about it — because it's the reason everything else in my life exists the way it does.

Getting sober was simultaneously the hardest and best decision I have ever made. I was terrified, really. I had never genuinely admitted to myself — beyond saying it to take the heat off my previous poor decisions — that I am an alcoholic. And I knew that the moment I truly took ownership of that, there was no going back. Because I didn't really know what life would look like without alcohol, I was petrified of what lay ahead.

But I did it — though not alone. And for that I'm entirely grateful for my family and friends who showed up for me.

The Person I Was

I wasn't a great person when I drank. While drunk, I thought the exact opposite — I thought my life was pretty good, actually. I had a job, I was making music, I had a partner, I wasn't homeless. But it wasn't until I stopped long enough to let the fog lift that I realized just how much I was hindering my own health and my own potential.

Putting down the bottle meant changing everything about how I lived, and that was hard. But not as hard as the first few days.

I had to break down the days into 15-minute segments just to get through them. I had pints of Americone Dream, Red Bull, and GIRLS loaded up on HBO. I'd say to myself: okay, you're not going to have a drink for the next 15 minutes. And when those elapsed — great job, now we're not going to have a drink for the next 15 minutes. Slowly, the days crawled by. But I could see a tiny crack of light peering through. And so I followed that.

The minutes became hours, the hours days. Days became weeks, and weeks months. Before long, I was sleeping better, I had more money in the bank, my digestion improved, I began wanting to exercise, my head un-fogged, and I could begin to see how life might look past this hurdle.

It Didn't Happen on the First Try

I want to be honest about something, because I think it matters: before this day twelve years ago, I tried and failed twice.

So if you're reading this and you're somewhere in that process, thinking I must be failing at this — no, you aren't. Everyone is different. Mine took the classic third time's the charm. Recovery isn't linear, and the attempt itself is never wasted.

The first few years were still really hard even after it finally took. But something had shifted. The crack of light got wider.

What Changed

Soon after getting sober, I started taking full control of my life in ways I never had before. I quit my job and started my own business. I went solo as an artist. I married the love of my life. I moved to a completely new city and bought a house. I signed with a music label. I clocked more hours than ever in a career I genuinely love. The list goes on.

And all of it — every single thing — comes down to that one final night before I quit. The night I was at my absolute lowest. The night I was my worst. The chapter I didn't know how to get past.

I think we try too often to rush past the hard things in life. But if I didn't have that hard night, I would've never made a change. The darkness wasn't a detour. It was the door.

Change is scary. Change is exciting. I'm just really glad I was able to make the change before things got undoable.

Where This Leads — drift, sway

So what does any of this have to do with music?

Everything, honestly.

To mark this anniversary, I'm going back to my roots as Six Missing — back to where it all began, when I was just starting out and fumbling my way through things. Me, my guitar, and some pedals. No armor, no production gloss. Just the thing itself.

drift, sway is a record about honoring your past, celebrating your courage, and looking toward the future. It's the most personally true thing I've made, and I think that's because I finally had twelve years of clarity to make it from.

If you've read this far and you're somewhere in the middle of your own hard chapter — whether that's sobriety or something else entirely — feel free to reach out. I'm happy to chat about any of it. For me, getting sober was the best decision I could've ever made. I don't say that lightly.

Here's to another twelve years.

— TJ (cheers-ing with a seltzer)