Turney Duff's Blog

The sun was coming up. Again. Not good.

I’d been up for three days on a bender. It was like a one-man bachelor party. To call me an addict is underselling it. I loved cocaine like Leo loved that chick in Titanic. Every night in my dreams — I see you, I feel you. I did lines so long I had to shuffle my feet just to finish. And the thing was — I was never finished until I didn’t have any left.

Somehow, I’d gotten through two days of work at my hedge fund, but I knew I couldn’t do a third.

I paced my Tribeca apartment, restless and raw, the city stretching out beyond my window. Porn, muted, played on my TV. I picked up my phone. Set it down. Did a line. Picked it up again to practice.

I tried to speak, but nothing resembling words came out. I tried again.

I sounded like an alien after two Rosetta Stone lessons. I can’t come to work today was the goal, but it felt like I had to assemble it in pieces — I can’t… come to… work today.

And I knew there’d be a response. Something I’d have to answer. There was no way I could do this.

I set my phone down, watched porn, then emailed in sick. In 2003, on Wall Street, that was code for I partied too hard last night. I didn’t care. I couldn’t speak. My hands shook as I typed it and hit send.

My life had been held together by lies, half-truths, and omissions. Iceberg, right ahead. I knew the ship was going down — that part was inevitable — but maybe I could still grab a lifeboat.

So… I did what every good addict does. I called my two-and-a-half drug dealers.

Not being able to speak didn’t matter; it probably helped.

First was Pierre. He was my guy. He delivered $100 bags of relatively pure coke. It made me jittery, which tells me there was some other shit in it, but it did the trick. He sometimes took over an hour though.

Then there was Bo. He sold $60s and fast. Not as good, but he delivered anytime — 3 a.m., no problem; 2 p.m. office visit, piece of cake. He was my backup.

And then there was Eddie — my half-dealer. He wasn’t a dealer at all. He was a sales trader I’d trade stock with, and he’d meet me after work for a handoff. Commission dollars for cocaine.

Each call was the same: Don’t sell to me anymore. Under any circumstances. In a week I’ll beg you to come over, but you need to cut me off. I’m going to die.

All three understood. All three wished me the best. Shockingly, they kept their word when I called them two weeks later. Who says there’s no honor in drug dealing?

But here’s the truth: I found cocaine in other ways. Cutting myself off didn’t stop me. It delayed me. It inconvenienced me. It annoyed me. But it didn’t stop me. And that’s my point.

Everywhere I look — TV, X, the paper — it’s all about blowing up Venezuelan boats to stop drugs and save lives. It’s bullshit. America doesn’t have a supply problem. We have a demand problem. Plain and simple.

I’m sure people will throw stones, so let me say this preemptively: in the history of drug users, no one has ever said, I really want to do cocaine tonight, but I can’t find any, so I’ll stay in and have a glass of wine.

People don’t do cocaine because it smells good. They do it because they want euphoria. And if they can’t find cocaine, they’ll find another way to get that feeling. And before anyone comes at me about fentanyl — I agree, it’s killing people. But it’s not coming from Venezuela. That’s just a fact.

You don’t stop addiction by blowing up boats or locking borders or making speeches. You stop it when the person who wants the drugs more than anything finally wants something else more.

I know this isn’t popular, but drugs don’t pour into this country because dealers are evil geniuses. They come because people like me were buying them. If there’s no demand, there’s no profit. And if there’s no profit, the drugs stop coming. Blaming the sellers is easier — it just doesn’t work.

If we actually want to help addicts, we should stop pretending the drugs are the problem and start dealing with the pain underneath them. That means making it easier to ask for help than it is to get high. It means treatment that’s accessible, honest, and human. And it means creating a world where getting sober doesn’t feel like stepping off a cliff with no net.

For me, it wasn’t fear or law enforcement or supply chains. It was the slow realization that I was about to lose everything — and that no amount of cocaine was ever going to save me from myself.

You can try to take away the drugs. You can’t take away the desire.

That part has to be dealt with face to face, in the mirror — usually at sunrise.

I was Reasonably Happy on the Reasonably Happy podcast.

But I asked them to use the Ozempic filter on the camera, and they refused. Rude.

Ever wonder what would happen if a sports analytics guru worked at Steve Cohen’s hedge fund? Joe Peta (@MagicRatSF) lived it and his new book is a fascinating must-read for anyone in the long/short equity biz. It’s Bill James meets Bobby Axelrod https://www.amazon.com/Moneyball-Mone...

I’ve been collaborating with Jesse Itzler on a weekly newsletter called Free Swim. It’s about business, wellness, parenting, mindset, and anything goes. Nothing is off-limits. It’s free, and it’ll be fun. Here is the link to sign up: https://jesseitzler.com/pages/contact

Super fun podcast I did – Wade Into Wealth – and it might be the best intro I’ve ever gotten – they dug up my first rap song – put your money on Galleon.

I was asked to teach a course on – How To Be Happy – for Himalaya – I told them that I’d be happy if they paid me to do it… I got a little bit of a giggle and that was enough for me. You can check it out here with a free trial – and the other people they have teaching courses are way more exciting than me

how to be happy – himalaya

Recently I did a podcast with Brad Garrett – we got into somethings I’ve never opened up about like trauma, masculinity, and shame. It’s available anywhere you listen to podcasts – I have to say it was pretty wild to her Bloat from Finding Nemo tell me that I have the best name ever — then quickly pivoting to thinking that my name sounds like an STD – if you want to watch and listen here’s the youtube link.

Here’s a super fun podcast I did called Kind of Obsessed. I loved talking with Sara and Katie – and it definitely didn’t feel like any other podcasts I’d been on before. Take a listen Kind of Obsessed Podcast

I’m so grateful for all the people who’ve helped me along in my journey. Not to be overly dramatic, but I should be dead. I used to do lines of cocaine that were so long I needed to shuffle my feet just to finish them. I loved cocaine-like Leonardo loved Rose in Titanic. Drinking was my side piece. I couldn’t stop. And I didn’t want to stop because I genuinely believed that it was going to be different the next time. After a rough night, I’d surrender for a few hours or perhaps even a day. I might even swear off drinking and drugging forever. I’m NEVER doing that again! Ever! And then a day later, I’d convince myself that the next time—yes—the next time—it was going to be different. I could control it. I’d only do a certain amount, or I’d stop at a specific time, and everything would be fine, but it rarely ever was fine. And I collected this data for a long time. I kept believing my lie, and I kept on using. If you’re relapsing every other day—that’s just called using. It wasn’t until I started getting honest with myself that I could even attempt sobriety. I was full of shit. It was never going to be different the next time I used. Not only that, it was going to get worse. Early on, I was told the only requirement was a desire to stop using, but my only desire was to make my problems go away. It took me a while to realize that the two were synonymous. Today, I don’t have to be sober; I get to be sober. It’s a choice. And it took what it took, two rehabs, multiple outpatients, loss of jobs, money, house, family court, and loss of self-respect. But I got it all back. So, no matter where you are on your journey, I promise you it can be done, and there are good times ahead. For me, the only way it’ll be different the next time—is if there isn’t a next time. Again, thank you to everyone who’s supported and loved me. I did not do this alone.

I was very honored to be asked to give my first TEDx Talk in Hickory, North Carolina. I’ve always believed that IF I got x THEN I would feel y. And I was always wrong. It’s a lesson that took several decades for me to learn, but I’m so grateful that I did.