~Rock bottom is good solid ground and a dead end street is just a place to turn around~ Buddy Buie and JR Cobb
I didn't kill anyone, so it was a good weekend. My insanity peaked on Wednesday, November 10th and continued through the weekend. I was out celebrating my friend's new job and move out-of-state. I believe we went to four bars. I remember one was at one of my favorite places called Cosmos which is a stunning bar inside a beautiful five star hotel called Graves 601. I pathetically passed out on one of the couches there while my friend chatted with people at the bar. One of the servers had to wake me up and tell me to sit up. I remember the last bar we went to was called the Imperial Room which is a classy, comfortable bar. I passed out on a high top chair there with my head resting on the table while my friend went to the bathroom. When she came back, the server walked over to take our drink order. I lifted my head to order and he said that he would not serve me. My friend and me were both upset and made some disparaging comments as we immediately left the place. I'm actually very thankful that the server cut me off since I don't remember getting into my car.
I didn't have drug dealers. I had doctors. By November 10th, my body was filled with a cocktail of medications. I was already taking Paxil, Welbutrin, Xanax and Trazadone. Even though I was not supposed to drink on those meds, I could not stop. After my car accident on September 15th in which a lady ran a red light Downtown and broke my ribs, I was given a variety of pain medications by various doctors for my injuries. At different appointments, they prescribed Oxycodone, Tizanidine, Dilaudid, Percocet, Valium and Vicodin. I felt that I deserved to feel good since I was in so much pain physically and emotionally and I wasn't hurting anyone, so I didn't feel bad when I mixed some of those to get high. I wasn't working and I was isolated, depressed and not eating right because I was afraid of getting fatter since I couldn't exercise. I always had a stress-related excuse to use whether it was the accident, work, marriage, divorce, family, friends, school, etc. I selfishly expected people to understand and excuse my bad behavior. I also felt overly sorry for myself and thought that I was a victim of life.
A friend of mine who has experimented with a lot of different drugs legally and otherwise was amazed that I had been given all of those pain meds and asked how I got them. I told him the truth that the doctors just gave them to me. Of course, they didn't know I was an addict, but I was in denial and didn't know either. I don't blame the doctors. They were all wonderfully caring people who did their job. They trusted me and treated my pain symptoms. It occurred to me that mixing could be a little dangerous, but I didn't care if I died. I felt entitled to feel good at any expense since I was missing out on so many things because of this accident including a tennis tournament in Palm Springs, 15-year high school reunion, wedding, birthdays, pet sitting, parties, etc.
I was completely open with all the doctors about all the other prescriptions I was on, but of course, hid the fact that I was up to about 15-20 drinks per week in the months leading up to the accident. After I was hit, I couldn't move for the first time in my life. Looking back, I think God was trying to send me a blatantly clear message since nothing else was working and said, "Enough! Stop!" I'm sure He was sick of watching me self-destruct. I had always been involved in multiple sports and exercise throughout my life; tennis leagues, softball, yoga, aerobics, kickball, kickboxing, Japanese sword fighting, biking, walking, etc. I loved sports. It helped release negative energy, produced endorphins and created natural highs. I believe it helped me "manage" my addictions all these years because I didn't need to use as much to feel good when I was involved in sports. After the accident broke my routine of sports and exercise, the negative energy built with no release.
Unfortunately, I didn't listen to God and stop. My drinking and drug use were out-of-control a few weeks after the accident. I did not want to be alone with my thoughts and feelings. I was afraid of all my problems and needed to be around people for a distraction. I went out to bars and restaurants daily for a month and a half; easily consuming about 25-30 drinks a week. I felt miserable, anxious, depressed and stuck. All the pain meds were gone at the beginning of November and I missed the highs. I thought about purchasing these illegally, but it just felt dirty. My friend had connections and I could have easily asked him to get me some, but it felt too risky. Why would I meet someone on a street corner anyway when I could just obtain them legally from a doctor's office? At that point though, I didn't have the energy to doctor shop. The Xanax bottle said to take them when needed, so of course, I felt that I needed them every few hours. By November 10th, I had taken almost 100 Xanax in the last few weeks. I learned in treatment that your tolerance with Xanax increases very quickly which obviously, I experienced.
I was high from alcohol, numb from Xanax and driving that night. I'm ashamed to say that I've driven under the influence hundreds of times whether it was from a prescription that said not to drive or from one or more drinks. If I felt "okay" to drive, then I drove whether it was a block or miles. In high school, MADD demonstrated a car simulator that had a delayed response to imitate drunk driving. I volunteered to be one of the drivers and the speaker said that I was one of the best drivers he's seen at avoiding objects on the large projector screen. November 10th was the first time that I couldn't "control" my drunk driving. I couldn't stay within the lines and I was driving slower than the speed limit. I could tell I was swerving, but I insanely kept driving. It's illogical and irrational why I didn't just pull over to the side of the road and call for help. I couldn't care less about my own life, but I was putting my friend's life in danger as well as other people's lives.
I don't remember where I was when I rounded a corner, went over the curb and drove through a field, but it woke me up from my blackout. I made it back to the side of the road and noticed my passenger side tire was flat. We napped while waiting about an hour for roadside assistance. He knocked on my window and went into my trunk to retrieve the spare. When he noticed the spare was flat, he was nice enough to go fill it at a gas station and then came back to replace my tire. More time to nap. I woke up to him tapping on my window, so I rolled it down and he asked for a tip. My friend and me both looked at each other. I said no, rolled up the window and we laughed. I briefly thought he wanted a sexual favor. We both were in disbelief that he would even ask for one. It didn't even occur to me how unbelievable it was for me to be driving.
We were on our way again and I exited onto the highway. I looked in my rear view mirror. It was cold out and I could see the exhaust clouding the air. Since I was a child, I've had pretty good instincts. I looked in my rear view and my intuition told me it was a cop, but I couldn't stop swerving. I looked again and the lights were flashing. Usually, my first reaction would've been "oh, shit!" However, I felt the same way I did when I passed out on the street Downtown a few years ago when the cop woke me up with his flashlight. I felt completely numb. I wasn't nervous or scared and I didn't cry. It felt like another event in my life that I would just have to manage. In the past, I've thought about this moment and the possibility scared me. In college, a friend of a friend landed in jail for a DUI and needed a ride home. I self-righteously said that I would not pick her up. I thought that I would never be that stupid and what a horrible person to drive drunk and put lives in danger. About five years ago, my ex-husband received a DUI for making a left turn in front of a semi. We were separated at the time, but it was so easy for me to place all the blame on him. He was the alcoholic; not me.
The cop walked to my car and I opened my door. He said that if I didn't get out of the car that I was getting a DUI. There was a blizzard coming to town and the temperature had dropped about 20 degrees. I only felt cold as I got out of my car; nothing else. I looked up all the official test names online recently that were performed during the Field Sobriety Test, but basically the first one I had to do was the "follow the finger" test or Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus (HGN) Test. It felt like this test went on forever and I thought I passed. Next, was the Walk and Turn Test (WAT) and my body was shaking only because of the cold. Under normal circumstances without Xanax, I probably would've been freaking out and shaking uncontrollably. I had a sweater on with no jacket and I held my crossed arms tightly to my body while I shivered and put one foot in front of the other. I felt relatively balanced and believed that I passed that test as well. The One-Leg Stand Test was the hardest. He asked me how high my heels were and I responded three inches. He said that I could take them off if I wanted, but I kept them on. I had to raise one leg off the ground while counting one thousand and one, one thousand and two, etc. I put my foot down a couple times, so most likely failed that one. Finally, I did the Breathalyzer Test. I blew a .091. The legal limit is .08.
By this time, another cop had shown up and he had my friend take a breathalyzer as she remained seated in my car to see if she could drive. She could not. The cop that administered the tests told me to get back into my car, take the next exit and park at the hotel that was on the corner. He said that they would follow us to the hotel. "Do you know how lucky you are?" "Yes," I numbly responded; not fully grasping the severity of the situation. I did as instructed and the other cop kindly gave us a ride home. "What are you guys doing out on a Wednesday night anyway," he asked. "Celebrating her promotion," I said. I stayed overnight at my friend's place. It was about 4:30 in the morning and then the next day, she drove me to my car and I went home and got ready for work. AA says that alcoholism is a "cunning, baffling and powerful" disease which was apparent when I still didn't think I had a problem.
I told a few of my close friends about almost getting a DUI and they expressed that they were extremely worried about me. A couple of my girlfriends who are more like my big sisters were caring, concerned and angry with me. "How old are you? How old are you?" One of my friends kept asking. The other said that she wished that I had been arrested because she feared that this wasn't the bottom for me and she was right. I proceeded to go out on Thursday night with girlfriends and got a ride home from a friend who was angry that I hadn't gotten a cab or called him to pick my friend and me up the other night. On Friday and Saturday nights, I went out with friends and again, drove drunk and barely remember driving home. I was out of Xanax on Sunday night and began feeling emotions again. I started to realize the despicable nature of my actions. I broke down on the phone with my mom and finally admitted that I had a problem. I had a neurology appointment for my car accident the next morning and wished they could test my brain for craziness.
After my appointment on Monday morning, the magnitude of all the events hit me and I broke down in my car. "Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking insane? What the fuck are you doing? You could've fucking killed someone? You're a fucking idiot! You're fucking insane!" I sobbed while I called my doctor's office to let them know I was out of Xanax. I asked the nurse if there was anything else they could do and they asked me to come into the office. I was ashamed because they now knew my secret. I was a drug addict. I've known my doctor and nurse since I was a teenager, but I was too embarrassed to see them. I went to work instead and felt so fragile and in despair. I sat in my cube and cried off and on all day and scheduled a counseling session with the person whom I now refer to as my Fairy Godmother.
I am beyond grateful that I did not kill you or anybody else that week. I am ashamed of my actions and take full responsibility. I've finally forgiven myself because those behaviors during my addiction do not represent my true self. However, I probably wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I had killed or hurt someone. I apologize to everyone that was on the roads that weekend and am lucky that I only damaged a field. I share this story in the hopes that others won't make the same mistakes as me. The local news reported a few months ago that in Minnesota, one out of seven drivers has a DUI on their record. Even though I was never charged, I'm still haunted by that night and all the what if's. I could have caused so much agony if I had killed or hurt someone's loved one. After a million second chances, I finally listened to God on November 15th. I stopped and turned my life around.
I didn't kill anyone, so it was a good weekend. My insanity peaked on Wednesday, November 10th and continued through the weekend. I was out celebrating my friend's new job and move out-of-state. I believe we went to four bars. I remember one was at one of my favorite places called Cosmos which is a stunning bar inside a beautiful five star hotel called Graves 601. I pathetically passed out on one of the couches there while my friend chatted with people at the bar. One of the servers had to wake me up and tell me to sit up. I remember the last bar we went to was called the Imperial Room which is a classy, comfortable bar. I passed out on a high top chair there with my head resting on the table while my friend went to the bathroom. When she came back, the server walked over to take our drink order. I lifted my head to order and he said that he would not serve me. My friend and me were both upset and made some disparaging comments as we immediately left the place. I'm actually very thankful that the server cut me off since I don't remember getting into my car.
I didn't have drug dealers. I had doctors. By November 10th, my body was filled with a cocktail of medications. I was already taking Paxil, Welbutrin, Xanax and Trazadone. Even though I was not supposed to drink on those meds, I could not stop. After my car accident on September 15th in which a lady ran a red light Downtown and broke my ribs, I was given a variety of pain medications by various doctors for my injuries. At different appointments, they prescribed Oxycodone, Tizanidine, Dilaudid, Percocet, Valium and Vicodin. I felt that I deserved to feel good since I was in so much pain physically and emotionally and I wasn't hurting anyone, so I didn't feel bad when I mixed some of those to get high. I wasn't working and I was isolated, depressed and not eating right because I was afraid of getting fatter since I couldn't exercise. I always had a stress-related excuse to use whether it was the accident, work, marriage, divorce, family, friends, school, etc. I selfishly expected people to understand and excuse my bad behavior. I also felt overly sorry for myself and thought that I was a victim of life.
A friend of mine who has experimented with a lot of different drugs legally and otherwise was amazed that I had been given all of those pain meds and asked how I got them. I told him the truth that the doctors just gave them to me. Of course, they didn't know I was an addict, but I was in denial and didn't know either. I don't blame the doctors. They were all wonderfully caring people who did their job. They trusted me and treated my pain symptoms. It occurred to me that mixing could be a little dangerous, but I didn't care if I died. I felt entitled to feel good at any expense since I was missing out on so many things because of this accident including a tennis tournament in Palm Springs, 15-year high school reunion, wedding, birthdays, pet sitting, parties, etc.
I was completely open with all the doctors about all the other prescriptions I was on, but of course, hid the fact that I was up to about 15-20 drinks per week in the months leading up to the accident. After I was hit, I couldn't move for the first time in my life. Looking back, I think God was trying to send me a blatantly clear message since nothing else was working and said, "Enough! Stop!" I'm sure He was sick of watching me self-destruct. I had always been involved in multiple sports and exercise throughout my life; tennis leagues, softball, yoga, aerobics, kickball, kickboxing, Japanese sword fighting, biking, walking, etc. I loved sports. It helped release negative energy, produced endorphins and created natural highs. I believe it helped me "manage" my addictions all these years because I didn't need to use as much to feel good when I was involved in sports. After the accident broke my routine of sports and exercise, the negative energy built with no release.
Unfortunately, I didn't listen to God and stop. My drinking and drug use were out-of-control a few weeks after the accident. I did not want to be alone with my thoughts and feelings. I was afraid of all my problems and needed to be around people for a distraction. I went out to bars and restaurants daily for a month and a half; easily consuming about 25-30 drinks a week. I felt miserable, anxious, depressed and stuck. All the pain meds were gone at the beginning of November and I missed the highs. I thought about purchasing these illegally, but it just felt dirty. My friend had connections and I could have easily asked him to get me some, but it felt too risky. Why would I meet someone on a street corner anyway when I could just obtain them legally from a doctor's office? At that point though, I didn't have the energy to doctor shop. The Xanax bottle said to take them when needed, so of course, I felt that I needed them every few hours. By November 10th, I had taken almost 100 Xanax in the last few weeks. I learned in treatment that your tolerance with Xanax increases very quickly which obviously, I experienced.
I was high from alcohol, numb from Xanax and driving that night. I'm ashamed to say that I've driven under the influence hundreds of times whether it was from a prescription that said not to drive or from one or more drinks. If I felt "okay" to drive, then I drove whether it was a block or miles. In high school, MADD demonstrated a car simulator that had a delayed response to imitate drunk driving. I volunteered to be one of the drivers and the speaker said that I was one of the best drivers he's seen at avoiding objects on the large projector screen. November 10th was the first time that I couldn't "control" my drunk driving. I couldn't stay within the lines and I was driving slower than the speed limit. I could tell I was swerving, but I insanely kept driving. It's illogical and irrational why I didn't just pull over to the side of the road and call for help. I couldn't care less about my own life, but I was putting my friend's life in danger as well as other people's lives.
I don't remember where I was when I rounded a corner, went over the curb and drove through a field, but it woke me up from my blackout. I made it back to the side of the road and noticed my passenger side tire was flat. We napped while waiting about an hour for roadside assistance. He knocked on my window and went into my trunk to retrieve the spare. When he noticed the spare was flat, he was nice enough to go fill it at a gas station and then came back to replace my tire. More time to nap. I woke up to him tapping on my window, so I rolled it down and he asked for a tip. My friend and me both looked at each other. I said no, rolled up the window and we laughed. I briefly thought he wanted a sexual favor. We both were in disbelief that he would even ask for one. It didn't even occur to me how unbelievable it was for me to be driving.
We were on our way again and I exited onto the highway. I looked in my rear view mirror. It was cold out and I could see the exhaust clouding the air. Since I was a child, I've had pretty good instincts. I looked in my rear view and my intuition told me it was a cop, but I couldn't stop swerving. I looked again and the lights were flashing. Usually, my first reaction would've been "oh, shit!" However, I felt the same way I did when I passed out on the street Downtown a few years ago when the cop woke me up with his flashlight. I felt completely numb. I wasn't nervous or scared and I didn't cry. It felt like another event in my life that I would just have to manage. In the past, I've thought about this moment and the possibility scared me. In college, a friend of a friend landed in jail for a DUI and needed a ride home. I self-righteously said that I would not pick her up. I thought that I would never be that stupid and what a horrible person to drive drunk and put lives in danger. About five years ago, my ex-husband received a DUI for making a left turn in front of a semi. We were separated at the time, but it was so easy for me to place all the blame on him. He was the alcoholic; not me.
The cop walked to my car and I opened my door. He said that if I didn't get out of the car that I was getting a DUI. There was a blizzard coming to town and the temperature had dropped about 20 degrees. I only felt cold as I got out of my car; nothing else. I looked up all the official test names online recently that were performed during the Field Sobriety Test, but basically the first one I had to do was the "follow the finger" test or Horizontal Gaze Nystagmus (HGN) Test. It felt like this test went on forever and I thought I passed. Next, was the Walk and Turn Test (WAT) and my body was shaking only because of the cold. Under normal circumstances without Xanax, I probably would've been freaking out and shaking uncontrollably. I had a sweater on with no jacket and I held my crossed arms tightly to my body while I shivered and put one foot in front of the other. I felt relatively balanced and believed that I passed that test as well. The One-Leg Stand Test was the hardest. He asked me how high my heels were and I responded three inches. He said that I could take them off if I wanted, but I kept them on. I had to raise one leg off the ground while counting one thousand and one, one thousand and two, etc. I put my foot down a couple times, so most likely failed that one. Finally, I did the Breathalyzer Test. I blew a .091. The legal limit is .08.
By this time, another cop had shown up and he had my friend take a breathalyzer as she remained seated in my car to see if she could drive. She could not. The cop that administered the tests told me to get back into my car, take the next exit and park at the hotel that was on the corner. He said that they would follow us to the hotel. "Do you know how lucky you are?" "Yes," I numbly responded; not fully grasping the severity of the situation. I did as instructed and the other cop kindly gave us a ride home. "What are you guys doing out on a Wednesday night anyway," he asked. "Celebrating her promotion," I said. I stayed overnight at my friend's place. It was about 4:30 in the morning and then the next day, she drove me to my car and I went home and got ready for work. AA says that alcoholism is a "cunning, baffling and powerful" disease which was apparent when I still didn't think I had a problem.
I told a few of my close friends about almost getting a DUI and they expressed that they were extremely worried about me. A couple of my girlfriends who are more like my big sisters were caring, concerned and angry with me. "How old are you? How old are you?" One of my friends kept asking. The other said that she wished that I had been arrested because she feared that this wasn't the bottom for me and she was right. I proceeded to go out on Thursday night with girlfriends and got a ride home from a friend who was angry that I hadn't gotten a cab or called him to pick my friend and me up the other night. On Friday and Saturday nights, I went out with friends and again, drove drunk and barely remember driving home. I was out of Xanax on Sunday night and began feeling emotions again. I started to realize the despicable nature of my actions. I broke down on the phone with my mom and finally admitted that I had a problem. I had a neurology appointment for my car accident the next morning and wished they could test my brain for craziness.
After my appointment on Monday morning, the magnitude of all the events hit me and I broke down in my car. "Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking insane? What the fuck are you doing? You could've fucking killed someone? You're a fucking idiot! You're fucking insane!" I sobbed while I called my doctor's office to let them know I was out of Xanax. I asked the nurse if there was anything else they could do and they asked me to come into the office. I was ashamed because they now knew my secret. I was a drug addict. I've known my doctor and nurse since I was a teenager, but I was too embarrassed to see them. I went to work instead and felt so fragile and in despair. I sat in my cube and cried off and on all day and scheduled a counseling session with the person whom I now refer to as my Fairy Godmother.
I am beyond grateful that I did not kill you or anybody else that week. I am ashamed of my actions and take full responsibility. I've finally forgiven myself because those behaviors during my addiction do not represent my true self. However, I probably wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if I had killed or hurt someone. I apologize to everyone that was on the roads that weekend and am lucky that I only damaged a field. I share this story in the hopes that others won't make the same mistakes as me. The local news reported a few months ago that in Minnesota, one out of seven drivers has a DUI on their record. Even though I was never charged, I'm still haunted by that night and all the what if's. I could have caused so much agony if I had killed or hurt someone's loved one. After a million second chances, I finally listened to God on November 15th. I stopped and turned my life around.
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