The Decision: Why I Quit Drinking and Tobacco the Same Night

I didn’t quit drinking and tobacco because I was strong.
I quit because I finally understood the cost of staying the same.

Before the heart episode, the signs were already there, high blood pressure, night sweats, stress I kept pushing down. I shrugged it all off because I told myself I was fine. I told myself it was normal. I told myself I could outrun it. But I couldn’t.

The night everything hit, the first thing I felt wasn’t courage, it was fear. Then honesty. Then clarity. That moment stripped away all the excuses I’d been living behind.

After the heart episode, I saw a cardiologist. Hearing him talk about my blood pressure, my lifestyle, and where this could lead… it hit me in a way I couldn’t shake. He told me I needed real changes, not shortcuts, not quick fixes. Real changes.

One of the first things he recommended was adding fermented foods to support gut and heart health. My wife didn’t hesitate; she took that and ran with it. Overnight, our entire way of eating shifted. She rebuilt our meals, ingredients, routines… everything. I quit drinking and tobacco. She transformed our home into a place that supported the changes I needed to make.

We rebuilt our health together, different roles, same mission.

Quitting wasn’t clean or easy. It was uncomfortable and humbling. When you take away the things you use to numb yourself, you feel everything… stress, emotion, fear, clarity. All of it. But that’s where the real work began. My wife saw the whole process. She supported me. Challenged me. Held me accountable. And little by little, we rebuilt, not out of survival, but out of intention.

Removing alcohol and tobacco wasn’t the transformation. Becoming someone who didn’t need them anymore, that was the shift.

Someone present.
Someone honest.
Someone my wife and daughters could count on emotionally, not just physically.
Someone living with intention instead of autopilot.

That night didn’t just change me.
It changed us, the way we communicated, the way we ate, the way we cared for our bodies, the way we showed up for our family.

And honestly, that night is one of the reasons Camp 60 exists. Because I learned something I wish more people understood:

Your shift doesn’t begin when life breaks you. Your shift begins when you decide to rebuild.

This is where mine started.