Alcoholism: The Drunken Reflection

In my younger days I could drink with the best of them. I would get drunk and my worries would float away along with my dignity. I was known to be a goofy drunk. But as time went on my drinking became a problem. I suffered through some very difficult struggles on my long path to sobriety. Today I don't even prefer to drink and I am happy to play the part of the designated driver. But as I witness my friends having a ball I am not tempted to return to my bubbly days. In fact, seeing them sloppy makes me happy to be sober.

I would have liked to have written about how nice it was to return to a night club after 10 years. Although it wasn't an unpleasant experience the revelation was sobering. I guess I first noticed the same people were still there after a decade. Like the old guard they never left their posts. I don't consider myself old by any sense of the word. But I admit I'm slightly too old to be lingering at the night club each weekend. Could that have been me sitting on the stool peering out over the crowd like some stone relic?

Each time the very attractive bartender refreshed their drinks, the relics would smile at her with red eyes and say something inappropriate. She would politely take their tips and return to refresh my coffee. In the old days I always wondered where the pretty bartender went after filling my mug. Now I know she went to stand by the older gentleman sipping his coffee near the back.

I remembered this uneasy sense of awkwardness in the old days. I felt I had to have a bottle in my hand to fit in. And I remember needing two shots initially to relax me and get me into the spirit of things. I did not feel awkward this night. I had come to accept and like myself in the years since I was last here. I no longer needed to be intoxicated to talk to people and feel comfortable in a crowd.

The night was quite a learning experience. I actually enjoyed myself. I probably shouldn't say that as a recovering alcoholic. But I had seen a different side to the nightclub that I had not witnessed previously. As I put my totally trashed friends in my vehicle, I felt a bit of trepidation when the police cruiser pulled up along side. Instead of the expected intimidating glare the officer gave me a friendly smile and said, "Get them home safely, Sir."

I walked the attractive bartender to her car and politely accepted her number. But I confided in her that I had a beautiful young lady at home. I dropped my friends off one by one. Some of my friends, I had to carry. I returned home at a reasonable hour to find my mother asleep on my couch. She had not been up all night awaiting my call from jail as she once had. I sat at my daughter's bedside and pulled her covers up to ward off the chill and she stirred awake. Her sleepy eyes peered up at me. She asked if I had enjoyed my night out. I had enjoyed my return to the bright lights and festive atmosphere of night life. But I was much happier to be home.

Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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DUI: An Officer Saved Me From Myself

The deputy shoves me hard over the front of his cruiser and cuffs my hands together. I turn around and lean against the car. He instructs me to stay as he questions my wife. The blue lights flash in my bloodshot eyes as the passing cars slow down to see what is happening. The remains of my car are scattered into the battered tree line. The deputy knows she was driving, the witnesses have already told him. But my statement doesn't match the witnesses. I continue to insist I was driving which was complicating his job. She was obviously intoxicated and open containers were found in the car. The officer is arguing with my wife to get her to admit to being the driver when I slump forward and fall to the ground. I tasted thick blood in my mouth before losing consciousness.

Deputy Chad Powell was sitting by me when I woke up in the hospital. The force of the impact had torn the lining of my stomach. This was as a result of my seat belt binding me and my precarious position at the time of impact. The bright red rash left by the seat belt still visible across my upper torso. Chad looked at me with a somber expression. "If I had believed you, I'd have taken you to jail 20 miles away from the closest hospital and you would have died. I know you pulled her from the driver's seat just before impact. The tree stabbed through the driver's seat. So she would have died. The only way your story adds up is if you were dead now in the driver's seat impaled by a tree."

I admitted to nothing but my wife had already confessed to being the driver. Chad Powell wanted something else from me. He wanted something I was not ready to give anyone. He visited me every day while I was in the hospital and even left his home number to my mother. I resented this. I had no love for law enforcement and neither did my family. But by this time, my mother had exhausted all means of reaching me. The thought of my own mother potentially turning me into the police infuriated me and ended contact with her.

My wife and I continued to have law enforcement come to our apartment as our marriage descended into madness and ruin. Each time, the Sheriff's Department was called Chad was there on the scene. He even showed up when he was off duty. I perceived it as a personal vendetta he had toward me. Sometimes officers take it upon themselves to such things. Each time he put me in the back of his cruiser I got a lecture from him. He asked me if this was what I wanted for my life. He knew my sordid family history, my time in military service and my college courses. Deputy Chad Powell had done his homework and I felt the weight of his influence. He informed me that my mother was worried about me and cried to him. I kicked the cage separating us in his cruiser to get him to stop talking.

Each court date I was to appear before the judge Deputy Chad Powell was there. He nearly had me denied bond on one of my pending charges related to a prior DUI. I was found not guilty of the charge and my attorney cited harassment against Deputy Powell. I smiled at Chad as I passed by him leaving the courtroom. It was possible I could get him fired and he knew it. He looked at the floor with an expression of strengthened resolve and said nothing.

I had decided to separate from my wife. I had not been rehabilitated of my ways but could not afford another fine or court case. All was well for a few weeks until she returned to my apartment and broke through my kitchen window. I had been drinking alone and she had been drinking all night. Our heated exchange spread into the parking lot and the Sheriff's Department was called. A deputy took my wife and Chad took me. He was in plain clothes and had nothing to charge me with that would stick in court. I smiled as I told him, "I'll have your badge for this."

It quickly occurred to me that he wasn't taking me to jail but driving out of town. I assumed it was time for Deputy Chad and I to come to blows. I asked him if he was sure he wanted it to come to this. He said nothing as he pulled into a darkened church parking lot. He exited the car and opened my door and walked ahead into the cemetery to the side. I exited the cruiser and peered around mildly confused. I saw he had stopped at a headstone. I stepped beside him and read the name on the headstone. It read, David R. Powell.

Chad explained to me that his younger brother would be my age. He was addicted to cocaine and drank heavily. One night he drove his car over an embankment and flipped three times. His vehicle was unrecognizable but he appeared to be unharmed as the highway patrol arrived. They leaned him against the patrol car awaiting the ambulance and moments later he slumped over and collapsed to the ground. He died on the scene. Chad explained I had done the exact same thing the night of my accident. And he couldn't allow me to meet the same end as his brother. "I don't know why I took you on as a personal project. I guess I saw so much of David in you. I couldn't save my brother so I guess I'm trying to save you. I'll take you back home now and you can do what you want."

Deputy Chad Powell was one of the people in my life that helped me make a change. He honestly is the example of what it means to go above and beyond. He is a very dear friend today and I owe my life to him. This experience taught me that alcoholism doesn't only affects the lives of those we love. It deeply affects the officers and EMS personnel that witness the tragedy every day.

Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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Alcoholism: Confessions of a Designated Driver

The wolf pack welcomes back its alpha male.

I think my friends are overreacting somewhat. So I don't party as much as I once did. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I've gone out with the boys. I adopted my daughter two years ago and it's taken me this long to get my life geared toward being a father. I had been working two jobs the entirety of those two years and have only recently settled in a more rewarding career. As I sat before them It did not escape me how much I sounded like my father.

My friends were not against my decision to adopt my child. In fact, when it seemed the little girl had run out of options I had made a very responsible and selfless decision to offer up my own life for her. My friends reminded me how they all stepped in and helped me through that difficult time. They loved my daughter as well and felt like co-fathers.

My friends warned me that my 30th birthday was fast approaching. I had well earned the right to enjoy my remaining years of youth. Perhaps we could recapture those iconic days when we owned the town and women swooned! They admitted the hunt had never been the same without me in front leading the prowl. I felt eyes upon me from behind. Those of you that have read my works that mentioned my daughter know well by now that she is an adept eavesdropper. I confided that no intervention would be complete without all parties affected weighing in. I invited my daughter to come sit with us.

I was impressed at how well she presented herself. She reminded everyone that it had been addicted and partying that led to those tragic events before her adoption. She also cited that I had only recently turned from the brink of alcoholism when she came into my life. How many times had the pack prowled themselves into jail for drunken debauchery? She suggested they take a closer look at their alpha male. He remained as powerful a presence as ever. Except now, young ladies no longer shuddered uneasily when he loped by. They now know him to be a tamed and gentle provider.

My friends conceded to her wisdom. It seemed their leader had made the best decision for his life. My presence among them only reminded them of their own fast approaching adulthood. Soon they all would be tamed. My very wide daughter proposed a solution.

Meridian, Mississippi is what most considers a retirement community. It's true the city representative would consider a predominant population over 50 years of age the ideal. There remain only a few night clubs here and the police sit like predators across the street every weekend. They follow you all the way home even if you are legal to drive. My pack agreed the perils of the prowl were many and they had each narrowly escaped capture. My daughter suggested they needed a designated responsible party to lead them in the hunt.

My friends agreed this would be the best compromise. I really had no desire to return to my days of debauchery. But I had missed my friends and the adventures we shared. If I was committed to the task, it would bring the pack back together and work well for everyone. My daughter told them of a program her class had covered in school. The designated responsible party program offers certain incentives to those that agree to remain 100% sober and serve as the responsible party for others. A bright orange sticker goes on the bumper and the driver agrees to speak with an officer at any time during the course of the night. It was settled.

Over the next few weeks I ran with the pack as often as I could. I had actually enjoyed the police attention and learned they consider the designated drivers sort of an extension of the law. I developed a sort of pride to be doing my part to keep my friends safe and the community as well. Freed from the prospect of capture, my pack stepped up their ferociousness and raided the night clubs mercilessly. Many young ladies swooned again!

Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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First Impressions: Recovering Alcoholics Have a Different View

I've always been consciously aware of my own shortcomings. As I grow older but seem to have more. My hairline is receding, my teeth are bad and I could stand to lose a few more pounds. I often wonder if others are aware of my shortcomings as well.

While returning from lunch, I was walking with a co-worker toward our place of work. As an attractive lady approached, my co-worker gave me a nudge and nodded toward her bust line.

There's nothing wrong with the natural male senses. However, the woman was smartly dressed and appeared to be returning from lunch herself. I had noticed her but purposely pretended not to. As would be expected, she passed by both of us without even a glance. Typically women make a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with a man. However, a majority of men make a mental assessment of every woman they see. It is simply in our nature and we may not always be conscious we are doing so.

When we make our mental assessment of the opposite sex our point of reference is based on personal choice, history and sometimes our values.  Women of this compulsion as well I have been told to simply choose to hide it. Even if one is in a committed relationship this compulsion does not stop. Our mental assessment of others does not stop with physical attraction.

We notice if someone is nosy, weak or strong, easy to fool or someone we admire. We make these initial assessments before we even know the person.  It does not take a scientific study to know this method is inherently flawed. Our first impressions of a person must often wrong. But why do we continue to do this when nothing logically suggests our observations tell us anything about the person?

Jokingly I asked my co-worker, "How was she?" He peered at me for a moment and began to laugh. I continued to press. What were her favorite foods?  Does she prefer action movies over romance? He knew I was working on an angle and asked me what the point was.

I generally wanted to know what he had learned from her with a simple passing glance. I encouraged him to be imaginative. We spent the next few hours of the shift discussing the stranger on the street. In his brief assessment he was able to conclude she was attractive, smart and perhaps a bit full herself. What type of person does not even smile or say hello to someone they pass on the street?

I played devil's advocate. Perhaps the woman has something pressing on her mind. Perhaps she was working out a solution to a problem at work. Perhaps she used to be very open and friendly yet this was misinterpreted as being forward. My co-worker shook his head and accused me of being too optimistic. I agreed, perhaps he was right?

Later that night I attended my weekly alcoholics’ anonymous meeting. The attractive lady we passed on the street approached me as I was getting coffee. She placed her hand on the shoulder and asked me how I was holding up. I informed her I was working on my exercises to have a more positive and optimistic outlook. She had encouraged me a week before to always try to assume the best of people when I have no other reason to believe otherwise.

She then apologized for not saying hello earlier that day on the street.  She said that she had been clean from drug addiction over a year.  Unfortunately, the stigma of her deeds still followed her. She did not know if my friend was aware of whom she was. She simply did not want her bad reputation affecting mine. Ironically, I was thinking the same thing but only being conscious of my own shortcomings.  Our meetings are called anonymous for a reason.

Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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