At 20-yrs old I was arrested for the first time.
At 22-yrs old I was arrested for the second time.
At 25-yrs old I was arrested for the last time.
Four weeks after being arrested for the last time, I pulled instead of pushed on the doors entering treatment. At that moment, I was a punk whose intentions were to half-ass the next thirty days. I had no idea that pulling instead of pushing the front doors would end up being the most confusing part of going to treatment. It’s startling how the sting of saying, “I went to treatment” still stings.
Four months after being released from treatment I entered jail to serve a 60-day sentence.
A year-and-a-half after being released from jail and now sober, I met a woman who was broken in so many tempting ways. People in-the-know warned me to stay away, but stupidly, I ignored them. Together, she and I went on a drinking bender that didn’t end after the weekend; it lasted five years, contained lot's of nights boozin' and lot's of seriously questionable behavior from both of us.
Three years into our bender, we married.
Twelve months into our marriage, we became pregnant.
Twelve weeks after becoming pregnant, we lost our baby.
Two months after losing our baby, I made a conquering return to sobriety. It was a return from the enticing, wicked, greedy, reckless, sinful pull of alcohol. I asked her to join me in getting sober.
Three months after asking her to join me in getting sober, she left me.
Three months after our divorce, I found out she was four months pregnant.
One minute after finding out she was four months pregnant, she told me it was somebody else's.
For the next year, I cried at church weekly. Not because the baby wasn't mine, but because of my life-choices. I wanted out. I'd had enough. I was not going back to drinking for anything, or anyone. I was disgusted with myself.
Many months later I met a brunette out for a drink. Although very attractive, she was equally manipulative. But also untrustworthy, deceptive, and younger than me by eight years. The red-flags flew high and flew loud after our second date, but, stupidly, I ignored them.
It would be two years that she and I would date. Those two years would be rocky, unstable, sexy, incompatible, immature and dramatic. I would continue to drink, even against my own wishes, just so this girl would like me.
Six months after this break-up I continued to drink with the start of carrying around some level of awareness that alcohol changed my behavior. Stupidly, I wouldn't get out of my own way even when I knew something wasn't right.
That's on me.
I was born with a condition that is so undetectable, you can't diagnose it until you're at, or close to, the point of no return, which sucks because this can be fatal.
Stupidity. And possible addiction.
Many of you have it too and don't even know it yet.
Many of you have it too and don't even know it yet.
That's on you.
Go ahead, under-estimate me. This'll be fun.
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