PTSD, Booze, and Me
What I learned from a dark period in my life while covering this war, and what friends, doctors and war correspondents told me to help me get back on my feet.
Editor’s note: We always promised The Counteroffensive would be a version of a reporter’s notebook. So here is my reporting… on how reporting on a war changed me.
Because it’s so personal, I’ve made it for paid subscribers only.
We have been stagnant on the number of paid subscribers over the last two months, and we really need your support to keep going. If you aren’t already a paying member, I hope you’ll join us and read along!
There was a time, in August 2022, when I left Ukraine and swore I would never go back.
I was drinking heavily, five or seven beers a day, to ease the stress and anxiety. It was so easy, since we were always staying at hotels with bars.
And there was always something to be stressed about.
I like to say that the hardest thing to resist in life is the line between three and four drinks. Three, and it’s a refreshing morning tomorrow. Four drinks… is actually seven.