Is There A Doctor In The House


He attended my writing masterclass in 2016. He had just started university; young, bright, and shy. Thin as a reed. He was talented as well, anyone could tell. He wrote beautifully with his cheek and thought himself funny, which is always a great thing for any writer. Thankfully, he was funny. After the class, Bett -Masterclass admin – took him under her arm as a writer on her website, Craft It. 

A few years later, a friend who worked in an advertising agency was looking for ‘young talented writers’, so I threw his hat in that ring. Unbeknownst to me he had quit university because he was “bored of it,” and there were too many “cool kids” in his university and he was struggling to “fit in.” Anyway, he got the job because he writes well and he has got the personality of a great book left open on a table. We talked sporadically. He liked his job, he was becoming a cool kid now. I got updates from my contact at the Agency. They liked him, he wrote great copy and was much liked in the office. 

A few years later he has a new job and all. Better job. He’s now an adman. He calls me and says, “I have never quite thanked you for giving me a head start. I would like to buy you a whisky. Any whisky of your choice. I have money.” I chuckle at the chutzpah; I have money. 

I met him in a club, one of those ostentatious lounges with a disco ball hanging over the dance floor. We sat against a window overlooking the glittering Nairobi vista. He was in very high spirits, excited, smiling a lot. “What whisky do you want?” He said as we sat down. I told him I’d have a double of Lagavulin because you know, a celebration. He said, “No, no doubles tonight. I’m getting you a bottle.” I said a bottle would be a waste because I planned to have my usual three doubles – maybe four if someone decided to dance topless on a tabletop. (Someone who isn’t a bouncer). He said, “Don’t be shy, I have money! Get a bottle.” I said, “No, just doubles.” He rolled his eyes and sighed. He drinks gin, the official drink of youth. He was already high because he had come straight from an office thing. I ordered and we started drinking. 

Anyway, at some point in the night, he disappeared and I went looking for him. I found him and some cat cutting up lines in the bathroom. He grinned and said, “OK, you caught me.” I was taken aback but I pretended they were just a bunch of people photocopying a report. I walked to piss in the urinal against the walls which also had a view of the cityscape to the airport. (It was a rooftop club). I was standing there watching a blinking plane land and thinking, Someone in that plane has had a tough flight with legroom, his leg must feel wooden. Glad it ain’t me. 

I watched his friend roll a crisp bill as I stood at the sink washing my hands. “Have you tried this before?” He asked. I told him, Yeah, I tried it once before when I was about his age. [He’s 28]. “And?” He asked, that crooked excited grin. 

“It wasn’t for me,” I said. 

“Nonsense.” He said. “Try it again.”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said over the roar of the hand drier. (Why the hell do they make them so loud? Does drying a hand have to be so dramatic?). 

He started pleading, saying, Come on, man, how often do we hang out? Do it with me, celebrate me. Come on, be proud of me. I’ve done okay. Here, this small line, come on, it’s my night. It’s a celebration, don’t piss on it. Please. 

Drugs aren’t my thing not because I’m a Puritan but because they don’t do much to me; weed just makes me so sleepy I could sleep in the middle of the road. I’m not intrigued by recreational drugs. I’m happy with my whisky and I love it neat like I love my life. But he was standing before me pleading and cajoling, talking about celebrating him. So I said, oh sod it, I’ll have a line. 

He looks at me proudly, grinning. Atta boy. His friend is grinning. I know what they’re thinking, that I’m like them now. That we have joined ranks. That there is a brotherhood going on there, in that bathroom. I went back to the table and I wish I could report that something monumental happened. That I was yanked into the galaxy and I soared through the Milky Way. That I went home with a burst of creativity and wrote for three hours straight. Nah. I might have felt a great calmness, an intoxicating calmness, maybe a deep quiet, but I was always aware that all this was a mirage, it was smoke and mirrors and nothing was real. That I had worn someone else’s skin. I had a good time with him, I found him amusing, unpredictable, and wild. But also unhinged and out of control. It wasn’t courage I initially thought he had, I realised, it was fear. He was hiding from his shadow. When I called it a night and we were embracing with an exaggerated act of brotherly love, I told him, “This life you are leading is unsustainable. It can’t end well. Get back a handle on things.” 

OK, dad, he slurred.  

A few months later I was in Elementaita finishing my third book when he called. He sounded distressed. He said he was in trouble.“ I can’t write.” He said. “And I’m an addict. I want to stop. My life is a mess. I think I’m also addicted to masturbation. All these things, man, I want to stop. I don’t know how. I hate working in an Agency, it’s taking me away from writing. I hate writing copy, I want to write stories, like you. How can I write stories like you? Oh, I also have money problems.” 

“Of course you do,” I told him, “you are doing drugs.” Told him to look for me the following week to see how he would get out of this funk. Always tell people to look for you if they need help. That initiative is very important, and it should be theirs, not yours. Allow them to commit. I once interviewed a CEO who said something about having a closed-door policy, that to see him you have to take the initiative on your part to knock on his door. 

Of course, we never met until last week. 

I ran into him at a bar I had gone to review. It was raining and I was looking for the bathrooms when, suddenly, he was standing in my way: “It’s me again!” He had a glassy-eyed look, bouncing off the walls. Happy. “How long have you been here? Where are you seated? I didn’t see you.” I told him I was seated out on the balcony, at the edge of the rain. He introduced me to his friends, some two chaps, you know, cool kids in white sneakers. He said he had been at the bar since 2 pm. It was now knocking 11. 

“Have you taken your things?” I asked him. 

“Yes, would you like some? I can hook you up.”

I laughed and said, “Oh no, thank you. I’m good.” 

“Come on.”

“No. I’m good. Where the hell are the bathrooms here, anyway?”

“Through there,” he pointed. “Look, don’t leave before you see me, sawa?”

Of course, I didn’t tell him I was leaving. I did an Irish Exit. You never say when you are leaving the bar, you only say when you are home safe. 

I had told him to write something, anything about his life if he wanted to get into writing prose. He wrote this piece below at the beginning of this year.  


By Him.

If there is indeed a heaven –and I somehow make it there—and there’s truly a sentry at the gate who demands to know what I have done with my brief and tragic life, I would not even put up a fight. I would bow my head (hopefully still full of hair) and show myself out. Down the stairs and into the corridors of hell. I don’t suppose heaven is for quitters and lazy bums. Least of all addicts and people in advertising. I’m certain Lucifer has a special grill for Ad guys. They don’t burn them with the same fire as druggies and masturbators. As for Kenyan politicians, well, I’d be livid if they don’t get anything less than an endless spray of bullets through their fat bellies. But I digress.


I’m Joseph. 

And I’m an addict.

Five years ago this March, I landed my first Ad agency gig. I didn’t know jack shit about advertising. My knowledge of the digital space went as far as Instagram and my little kiosk on WordPress. On the day of the interview, I turned up in my old man’s hand-me-down shirt, a one-page CV, and a runny mouth. 

Throughout my time in the agency, I’ve been lucky enough to cross paths with guys who believed in my craft and handed me some rope when I didn’t know what a KPI was. I’m eternally grateful for the friends I made at my first posting. I quickly fell in love with the rush and craziness of the day-to-day. Submitting a copy at the last minute? That was the stuff that got me all warm and fuzzy inside. 

I loved the war stories traded by the water dispenser and the Friday nights we danced with gin-soaked lips. Each morning as I took the elevator up the building, I always looked forward to banter with my office girlfriends. 

Gradually, I found my footing. Before long I was making boardroom presentations to clients. I got a kick from walking around the room and breaking down my ideas, playing with words, and hitting them with a tagline that simply slaps. I showed up to the mill every day like a loyal footsoldier. Then in the evenings, I’d swing by Milan for a beer before heading home to smoke weed and (re)watch House MD. I got to write for reputable brands and rub shoulders with giants in marketing and tech.

Ultimately I let the work consume me, as if some slight Ad copy was going to end world hunger. I put off other facets of my life, everything tossed to the back-burner –family time, friends. I didn’t even notice it, but I had become that guy for saying, “I’m in a meeting. Let me call you back.” On paper, it seemed I was moving up in the world but kwa ground there was barely any progress in my personal life. The rope they gave me to climb with – I tied a knot and put it around my neck. Five years ago, I might as well have been led to the altar and slaughtered for a paycheck. A piece of paper that has brought me much happiness, and much more trouble. 

My mentor, Florence Bett (finance doctor/author of “Should I?” and “How Much?”), would probably recoil at the sight of my financial statements. She would somehow find a connection between my day job, my sense of purpose, and my relationship with money. She would diagnose my money personality as (reckless) ‘spender’. She would also say that my lack of planning and smart goals, coupled with my toxic habits, has thrown me into a vicious cycle that consumes me in darkness and hinders my growth. She would say that my mind, body, and soul are in misalignment.

I’ve only been to two agencies so far. And it’s not surprising that I already want to quit. I lack the patience to see things through. I come across a challenging brief and I immediately start planning for early retirement. Except, this time, I am considering quitting because I don’t think an agency is where my art will serve its higher purpose. I don’t see how I’m adding on to humanity by writing about chicken and chips. It also doesn’t help that more than half of my pay goes to paying off debts.

Plus this industry is a tiny revolving door of familiar names and faces. It’s full of boardroom warriors, paper pushers, bullshitters, unclear job roles and alignment meetings. (And that’s just the Account Managers) Don’t get me started on the fake sense of urgency. Honestly, Clients, the country is burning and you want to be pressed about a content calendar? 

Which has now brought me to a damning conclusion. Agency is like cocaine – the intense burst of energy and ideas is nice at the beginning, but inevitably you will crash. And you’ll start to feel like you’re chained to the cold hands of death in the dark.

I can’t quite remember when I first got fascinated by coke. Could be after watching Narcos or Wolf of Wall Street. Or was it Pulp Fiction? Maybe it was when I read “The Goldfinch” by Donna Tartt back in 2016. 

In the book, Theo Decker is the ill-fated protagonist who loses his mom in an explosion at an art museum. He then gets shipped off to Vegas to live with his dead-beat, gambling, drug-fuelled father. In Vegas Theo meets Boris in school, and they go on all sorts of adventures -meeting girls, snorting coke, popping pills, drinking vodka, stealing, and losing things.

Unlike Theo, though, I’m blessed to have a mother whose prayers continue to hold me at the seams. Yet I still see some parts of myself in him. For I have also held and lost beautiful things. Like time. The way Donna writes –her sheer description of the human psyche, the intricate placing of words – my little writer’s heart was set ablaze from the very first page. Heck, I even fancied I could write a proper review on my WordPress. But, incidentally, I never got past the first sentence, which goes: “Donna Tartt makes me want to try cocaine.” 

Haha. Go figure.

Anyway, the movies and the books don’t show you all the dark sides of coke. They might show you the nirvana-esque steamy sex scenes or pics of decapitated traffickers in Sinaloa, but they rarely display the bleeding gums, brown piss, or stomach decay. Seriously. You don’t want to be in the vicinity when a coke-head farts.

Cocaine will also make you lie and steal. Friends will not want to hang around you, especially after a few drinks. “I hope hujafanya hio mambo yako,” they will say.

Because of the shame, you’ll start hiding in bathroom stalls. You become adept at cutting and making lines. You go from an occasional weekend user to a regular-degular anti-social junkie. You lose weight. You squander your salo and forget to send something back home. You borrow money to fund your habit. In fact, when it’s time to apply for your monthly Tala loan, you always check the ‘For Personal Expense’ box with a chuckle. Surely. What could be more personal than your license to get high?

But every Monday –like clockwork– you swear never again. You apologise to anyone you might have offended over the weekend. You promise to delete the plug’s number. The next Friday, the same song plays on and on.

Paycheck to paycheck. Weekend to weekend. You become a juggler with too many balls in the air. Tiny white lies. Drunk promises. Damaged nostrils. Beer. Poor appetite. Powerpoint presentations. 

Suddenly, you’re 28 years old –still living in your parent’s house– and your life has morphed into one big gooey ball of unfinished undertakings. You’re yet to complete Uni, which immediately makes employers raise the offside flag. You’re yet to replace your erroneous National ID card, never mind that it was issued 10 years ago. You’re yet to renew your expired driving license, pay the campus library fines, repay an Mshwari loan, finish your therapist-issued fluoxetine meds, begin budgeting for adulthood, or call back the old friends you lost in the rat race of agency life. 

Now add drug addiction into the pot and stir. Then cue some J Cole: “The good news is you came a long way. The bad news is you went the wrong way.”

Of course, I imagine that one day I’ll simply up and fix this miserable trajectory. I’m starkly aware that if I continue digging myself into this hole, it’ll be a million times harder to get out. I can try, sure. But sooner or later I will quit, or leave that laborious self-improvement hogwash for tomorrow. After all, you can always count on an addict to leave. Or lose.

Plus how can I be certain that it’s the drugs that’ll be my undoing? What if it’s the Tala loans? What if I struggle to get sober and then end up dying by gunfire or gas explosion? What if I get taxed to death by the Republic? 

Is there a soothsayer among us who can hold my hand and assure me that my efforts to get clean will bear fruit? Maybe there’s a willing surgeon who will open up my skull and search for some faulty wiring. Or is there a therapist here who can prod around my childhood to discover the source of my self-destructive habits? Is there a doctor in the house? And if there is: How Much will it cost to take this cup of suffering from my lips?


The Creative Writing Masterclass train is leaving the station in two weekends. Get a seat HERE. Because nobody can stare out the window for the whole of a train ride, you need a book to read, so get that HERE as well. 

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  1. The claws of addiction that turns those who have to have nots. Peace and grace Joseph, it can’t be easy.

  2. Hi Joseph ( I’m sure this is not your real name or is it?)
    Still, Hi.
    I hope you figure this out
    You write beautifully.
    Please hang in there. And write on here some more. We’d love to read more of you. Right gang?

  3. I’d really love to know if his folks have noticed anything and what are they saying or rather telling him at 28? Its possible that the cup of suffering can be taken away from him. Am happy that he’s aware of the suffering and well informed of it, would someone ground him and make him accountable, moment by moment…..

    Reminds that, we are all addicted to something that is disconnecting us, dislocating us and killing us slowly or maybe not all of us, maybe just me, I wanted to say that I can feel his heart, need and yearn to break free from the detention of drugs and the agency.

  4. I have read this with mixed emotions. Ahh. really pray that Joseph gets all the help that he needs- brother can write!

    One thing about addiction is that it isn’t a hidden monste­r. It’s a cunning manipulator, creating a comforting web from familiar vices. The­ alcoholic finds solace in the amber glow of a forgotte­n dream, the gambler in the­ thrill of a near-miss jackpot. We cling to these­ crutches, mistaking their temporary warmth for ge­nuine care.

    Breaking fre­e is a difficult journey. Withdrawal is a monstrous storm, ravaging our bodies and minds. Shame­, a constant shadow, threatens to drown us in regre­t. Yet, within the wreckage­, a seed of defiance­ sprouts.

    Recovery is a battlefie­ld, but the greatest war is the­ one we fight within. It’s a daily reckoning, a constant ne­gotiation with the voice that whispers te­mpting promises of fleeting comfort. But with e­ach victory, a part of ourselves is reclaime­d. There is hope – Joseph.

    1. The light at the end of the tunnel gets bigger and brighter the more we take steps toward it. Brilliantly put, Cliff. Brilliantly put.

  5. Joseph you are a child of God,He so loved you that He gave His son to die on the cross so that you and i may have life and have it in adundance.He is the great physician,there is nothing He will hold from you if you will give your life to Him and totally surrender to HIM.For it is in Him we live and move and have our being.

  6. Life is always 50%. There’s a 50% chance that getting sober will be the most painful, miserable and exhausting time of your life. There’s also a 50% chance that your life will get better, beyond your wildest dreams. No one is standing on the other side to tell you whether the journey is worth it or not. Only you get to decide. You seem like a gambling man, why not roll the dice and find out?

  7. Damn, I thought being a dope fiend was a cool bar until I read this. The words are like a splash of black paint across a white canvas,rivetting

  8. You write really well. You have taken the first step ( admitting that you are an addict.)

    Now Biko be a good chap and help.

  9. I may not be a doctor, but I’m sure there is hope for every living being despite how far the dungeon you might be.

    insight you have, mother nature has your remedy, seek her and she is merciful to her beings…

    pray you find best self.


  10. This cool kid is halfway there! A wise friend once told me that the first step is always acceptance. Clearly, there is acceptance and willingness to change. So I also co-ask,is there a doctor in the house? Please hold his hand ❤️.

  11. I am no soothsayer but from personal experience, when it comes to drugs and addictions, the straight and the narrow path is the only way. I hope you regain your sobriety. Godspeed!

  12. That’s a cry for help…I hope he can get some, and get himself out of the shithole he put himself into. I really wish you all the best Jose

  13. what a depressing read. If only whatever he has learnt about drugs can be learnt by those who are clean. There is hope. Doctors reach out.

  14. Joseph, it gets better with time. But you have to allow yourself to get there.Be intentional and deliberate about it. love and light.

  15. Am no doctor but prayer changes things, I prayed for you son, when you desperate pray, when you too weak pray, when everyone has left, pray

  16. Self awareness is the first step towards recovery and getting things right. Hang on there. YOU WILL BE OKAY someday. Itajipa. All the best brother.

  17. I hate saying this is deep, but it is !
    Hi Joseph,
    I hope you find a solution, I hope you get released from these shackles of hopelessness or whatever
    I must say you write well !
    I’d personally want to read more of your pieces.

  18. Hi Joseph. You write beautifully!
    Please look up Joan Kirera on FB (if you cool kids still use that), she is a therapist. As you rightly point out, you gotta know what void (caused by childhood traumas – even though you might think you had a perfect childhood) the coke/drugs are filling. This way you avoid relapses. You are two steps in the right direction, admitting to being an addict and being vulnerable enough to seek help. Wishing you sobriety, it wont be easy but you can do it!

  19. You sure are a writer. You are half way to the doctor. Just like that CEO put it “You got to knock at his door. ” Hope you locate the doctor.

  20. I just finished reading “Broken: My Story of Addiction and Redemption” by William Cope Moyers and Katherine Ketcham and all I can say is that there’s hope but addiction is a monster that is not easy to slay.

  21. Hi him..Joseph rather.
    1. i heavily emphatize with you.
    2. you write -hmm whats good than good? Very nais ..u got the prose come be a regular ama link us the wordpress.
    3. “The goldfinch”..eeey..Boris was my fav.ish..Donna earned that
    4. I hope u find the soothsayer u are looking for. and i also hope u can count on Biko and all his followers on here to send up some good vibes, and prayers even longside yo mama. ok, bless up!

  22. You never know how strong you are until being strong is your only choice.

    Stay strong, Joseph.
    Hope never dies.
    You can do this.

  23. Thanks Joseph for sharing, .
    Trust me: i have walked an 8-year journey with my daughter who is bipolar and after so much struggle, indescribable pain and near-hopelessness, i can proudly say that she is now a recovering alcoholic who is functional. She even holds a day job.
    Hers has been a journey traversing Australia, Kenya, South Africa and back to Kenya.
    It has cost me millions of shillings.
    It caused me depression, tears, fear that i would lose her along the way but finally, life is looking up and i thank God for her.
    Hang in there.
    Never give up…fight for your life because it is definitely worth saving that brilliant mind.
    It shall be well.

  24. 1.There’s a spark in his writing .I hope he sets it ablaze.

    2.Sad how he went down the rabbit hole,chasing vanity.But who never makes mistakes?

    3.The self awareness is actually light at the end of the tunnel.Keep going

    4.I’m psychology graduate &I can refer him to one of our lecturers who’s practicing.I haven’t began practicing yet.

    5.I love that Biko is at the comment section.Feels like a complete circle

  25. What an amazing writer you are Joseph!!! I hope that you will keep writing here. You sound like the sort of guy who will kick this monster and succeed beyond your wildest dreams. There’s more life left than what you’ve already covered. The effort it will take is worth it… rooting for you!!

  26. Joseph, whatever it takes, find that doctor. You already know your way with the pen. But the way to recovery is a torturous journey. DON’T GIVE UP.

  27. The fact that Joseph has realized he has a problem, its a positive sign that he is on his way to recovery. It shall be well with him. As a therapist its easy when the client brings themselves to therapy and they are willing to get help. If he commits to recovery he will recover. I wish Joe well in his recovery journey.

  28. Dear Joseph,
    It is usually the hardest thing to get yourself out of a rut, when you know you are in a rut. The trying, the hoping, the wishing, the counting days, “from tomorrow I’ll be a better man”.
    But don’t you give up, we will try and fail and try again, we either overcome our demons, or it will be remarked long after our demise, that we died trying.

  29. the sad part is, people.start doing drugs, alcohol and social vices even as parents and guardians shout at them to.stop…..

  30. When i saw the thumbnail to this story, i thought it was a continuation of the story ‘ mama fei’ . which coincidentally touches on addiction too. Stay strong, hang in there champ. You’ll figured this out and get on path to sobriety . Looking forward to reading more of you.

  31. Hi Joseph,

    Your writing is truly exquisite!
    I decree and declare that you possess the strength to conquer this challenge. I (or rather we) believe in your potential for change and a life of fulfillment Keep moving forward, one step at a time.
    You are strong, you got this 🙂

  32. Hi Joseph,

    My name is Clara, and we may have walked a similar path in different timelines. I got my first job in content at an ad agency, but by that time, I was a stoner and an avid drinker. The lifestyle fueled my habits, and by the time I knew it, I was 25, lost, insecure, and with an emotional skeleton.

    When I realized I needed help, I came clean to my mom, who is a licensed counselor, and I was at my wits end. I didn’t care what she thought of me or if I would lose our relationship; I just needed help. The first step I took was to leave the agency environment FOR GOOD. Then, I worked on being sober and went cold turkey (at that point, I honestly didn’t care if I died or not; I just wanted to change the life I was in), and by far, this is the hardest thing I have ever done in life so far. Then I enrolled in a diploma course to do counselling so that I could get the skills I needed to rebuild my life. Why? At that point, I was at zero. I felt that I was nothing. I felt that I was hollow, like a part of me was missing. What was I capable of without the drugs, the fun, and the hype? Who was I? I had to rebuild, and those were the steps I took. It has been 4 years since I left the ad/event agency industry, 2 years of knowing I needed help but didn’t have the confidence to ask for it, and 1 year of full sobriety. I am now a counselor in training.

    If you would like me to walk with you through this journey as your counselor, you can reach out to me through my email address, and we can discuss the rest.

    Remember, you’ve already taken the first step. You just need to take the next one—nothing more, nothing less.

    I am rooting for you.

    1. You’re the success stories we need to read, Clara. This was more powerful than you know. I hope you pen your story down for future reference, to see how far you’ve come.

  33. Joseph, you write so beautifully. Of all guest writers who have showed up here, yours has a spark just like Biko’s. You can do it and i pray you pull through

  34. wow! His writing is so beautiful, I’d love to read more from him, please Biko.

    all the best Joe, I hope I can call you Joe…the only way to heal is self discovery on your own need for help which you have already found out…

    Sly the Vet.

    1. A vet in the house? Thank you for reading, Sly. He shall be popping in for a cup of tea on the blog from time to time.

  35. Jesus says,
    “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

    Matthew 11:28-30

    I battled stuff too, and this powerful verse is everything. With God’s grace, you have it in you to call things to order

    1. There’s a verse somewhere that says, ‘We are conquerors through Christ…’ or something of the sort, isn’t there?

  36. Hi Joseph, there’s a saviour, Jesus Christ. Just like He moved the streets of Jerusalem healing leapers, restoring sight to the blind and raising the dead, He’s still doing the same today. Jesus came to give us life in abundance.

    While you say you are an addict Christ calls you His beloved. He knew you in your mother’s womb. He’s written your name in the palms of His hands. He even knows the hairs in you head. He’s love for us is beyond measure.

    And you know what? He’ll never leave you or forsake you. Run to Him. Walk to Him. Crawl to Him. Jesus is more than ready to destroy the addiction. “Jesus, I trust. ” Let it be your prayer in every waking moment. Let Him fix the broken pieces. Let Him restore what the devil stole. Let Him make you whole again.

    Vincentian Ministries (Thika, Lavington and Kisumu) always have retreats. If you’re interested, you can attend one. Here is the calendar for upcoming retreats in Thika I’ll be attending the 5th to 9th May retreat. If you want, we can go together.

    Stay blessed.

  37. My name is Joseph and I did it (quit on that lifestyle) you will too, after all 1. Everything is happening as it should be 2. You are a creature of freewill 3. Nothing screams awakening as loud as suffering does. So you will figure

  38. Hi Biko,

    Why not the young man give you stories to post here, what he is currently going through on a day to day basis, just as you started when you started this blog.
    He sounds talented going by his writing.

  39. Hi Joseph,

    I enjoyed reading you, you are a talented writer and i am 100% sure you will be able to rewrite your story. It takes immense courage to bare your heart and soul, especially to strangers… and to ask for help. You have made a step in the right direction, keep walking. You have what it takes and I am rooting for you! I hope we get a doctor and i look forward to reading another beautiful piece from you.


  40. He could try rehab. It might/not work. But it would give him a good 3 months break with the world and maybe he could even write more.

  41. Only Recently did I realize that:
    ‘So long as your heart is strong your body will adjust.’

    Keep going bro!! Things will get better. God Speed.

  42. hi Joseph,

    try AA…. addicts helping fellow addicts stay clean. it’s a journey of a thousand miles that begins with one step….an AA meeting. All the best.

  43. It feels like I was reading my son’s post. Glad you know there’s a problem and needs an urgent solution, that’s hope now hold on to that hope. One thing I have learnt is to pray about any pain I go through even pain that’s hidden from me that would cause me do things I don’t want to do. imagine God hears and answers His door is always open but we get to knock on that door dear. I pray you find a genuine doctor. there’s a whole life ahead of you and we want to read all you will write.

  44. amazing,,and most definitely reflective of everyday rat race struggles,life is a puzzle, satisfaction is a personal goal,,choose wisely what vices you,and embrace what builds you

  45. The thing about sobriety is ‘you need to want it’ on Facebook you can check on AA kenya they can lead you to many great stuff like NA,GA etc,the 12 step program is a program of suggestions and people like us share our sobriety journeys,welcome to the rooms.