Hi. My name is Senator Severus Bellua Leo. I'm an alcoholic.

Allow me to begin at the beginning: Prior to last year, I was a social drinker. I enjoyed a couple rounds at cons or with co-workers. I can say with complete sincerity I would rarely drink to excess, and when I did it was usually at a company function.

In Japan—where I lived and worked for seven years—such things are encouraged. It is a culture that works hard and parties hard.

Some time in early 2012, I began to drink at home alone to cope. A video game developer's schedule is crazy; I was in charge of three games with several more requiring prep work coming down the pipeline. I was dealing with contracts valued in the tens of millions of dollars, and it scared the shit out of me. (Please note that this is not an excuse. Plenty of people deal with this kind of stress without going home and downing a couple cans of Chu-Hi.)

Some time later, a traumatic event occurred in my life. If you know me you know the details, so I'll spare you all but the most important: I was fired after my furry Twitter account was discovered. I was forced to strip in front of the executive board to show my tattoo. I was forced to prostate myself on the ground as if in worship. I was forced to admit I had published porn of fat furry guys fucking. ('Cause hey, I dig fat furry guys fucking.)

I was kicked out on my ass, and (illegally) stripped of my assets. Immediately afterwards I attended AC, which I already had tickets and plans for. I partied hard there. I partied to forget.

At this point a very important figure came into my life. I won't say the person's name, but it is possible—if not probable—that he saved my life. I want to thank him from the bottom of my heart, and apologize for all that came after.

As my former employer had stolen my funds, I barely made it home. I was despondent. I was jobless. I was offered a localization director position at a company I respect, but the salary was less that half of the seven figures I had been making in Japan.

I decided a change was necessary; a change of perspective. My friends  ashewtiger and Ianus J. Wolf in Seattle kindly took me in. There, despite incredibly welcoming company, I became even more depressed, drinking almost daily. I believe I alienated them with my behavior, as I did my friends  sparf and  MDMangi.

Before their move to Baltimore, I had a very important experience with Ashe. At the time it seemed mundane, now it seems prophetic. He told me I had a problem. Specifically, an alcohol problem. I knew he was right, but I wasn't yet ready to make the changes necessary to correct it. Ashe, if you're reading this, thank you. I'm only beginning to change now, but your kind conversation with me was the spark.

So: Back to my home in LA I went, living in my mother's garage. I now had more job prospects, but descended into a deeper funk. (Drinking a bottle of vodka a day will do that to you.) I lived a sort of half-life, attending cons at which I would embarass myself by getting so drunk I stumbled down stairs and needed to be carried back to my room. For a while, I was known as "Stumbles the Stair Lion". I credit  DarthBear with saving me on that occasion.

My depression caused me to lose contact with some of my dear friends, as I was simply too apathetic and/or inebriated to respond. The turmoil reached its crescendo at TFF, where I was asked to leave a prominent room party. In truth, it was a disaster. Since that time I didn't have a single day without drinking myself into oblivion.

After some time—and some work, thankfully—I found myself living with  rikoshi, Kohai Masaki and Boris. On paper, it was a dream scenario. Two other Japanese translators? A totally rad tiger? Four furfags in the same house? Despite this, my spiral of self-destruction continued.

I failed to negotiate a multi-million dollar deal between a dear Japanese developer friend and an American studio. I felt I had failed a compatriot. I continued to feel distant, despite living with… well, my kind.

Then, the event. I drunkenly walked to the local market/giant strip mall, where I overheard some local thugs talking about fags. I've had a history of rage, and I saw red. I approached the ringleader, a lanky guy in a tanktop half my age, and told him to shut the fuck up. He got in my face and I shoved him. He decked me, hitting me in the mouth, and I went down.

The next thing I remember was being driven in an ambulance to a hospital, covered in gore. The commemorative jacket I received for translating Monster Hunter 3 tri~ was ruined, soaked in blood. My jaw was fractured. My teeth were cracked. My chin was split open to the bone.

The hospital stitched me up, and what I next remember was Boris coming to pick me up.

This was, as AA terms it, rock bottom.

I am eternally grateful to my roommates. I am eternally grateful to my friends.

The furry fandom is my family. I can't live without you.

To the friends I alienated in my long period of depression: I am so sorry. I will make amends.

To everyone I've caused concern: I am so sorry. I will make amends.

I'm not going to drink alone anymore. I have my first novel translation contract beginning, and I hope to use it to turn a new leaf.

I am not a victim of anyone but myself; I understand that. I developed a problem which I will overcome.

I thank everyone who finds it in his heart to help me accomplish that goal.

I love you all. You are my people.

And this is my cautionary tail.

—Bellua