Light at the End of the Tunnel, Part 2

Obviously, I knew it was time for a change.  In my case, it was time for 100 changes.  I knew I had to completely shake up my life and re-create it if I was going to stay afloat.

First things first – I got into rehab.  I found a great outpatient program that I could afford on a negative income (those with student loans get it!) and started going to two group sessions a week as well as a one-on-one with an addiction counselor.  The rehab program was the first and most important step in my recovery. Obviously, I learned about dealing with stress and anxiety, navigating life with a criminal history, and how to resist the urge to drink.  I got even more, however, from my mates in rehab.

As someone with a mostly clean history, I frankly saw myself as a better person than those who were addicted to, for example, meth or prescription pills, or those who had their kids taken away after a felony DWI.  But there I found myself, in my 20s, sitting right next to those people and realizing that they were just like me.  They were not uneducated, uncultured losers with no self-restraint.  They were people…mothers, adolescents, professionals, blue collar workers, average Joes, all shoved out into the world and learning to deal with the angst of life just like I was.  We all came from different demographics, but in that group therapy room, we were equals learning to fight off a common enemy.  It was quite a humbling experience for me, and it completely changed the way I think about the criminal system and treatment of addicts in our society.

Despite all my efforts to fit in, those around me would still make comments such as “how did you end up here with people like us?”, or “I never thought lawyers dealt with this shit.”  I would answer basic questions about criminal procedure (with the strong warning that I was NOT a licensed attorney and I cannot give legal advice) and share my stories about my past.  The nice clothes I wear and the expensive degree I bragged about sometimes hid my history of depression and alcoholism, unresolved issues with my father’s death, and feelings of inadequacy.  I think I helped them in the same sense that they helped me – I helped at least some of them realize that just because they struggled with addiction and happened to get caught, it didn’t mean that their worth was decreased.  It definitely put some obstacles in their path, but they could still shine.  It had been quite a while since I felt that I was capable of motivating or inspiring anyone, and it was such an honor to have a few people look up to me. I treasure that time, and if anyone reading is going through the same issues – please reach out and I would be glad to help you find an outpatient center like mine.

I attended a few AA meetings, and they just weren’t for me.  I see the appeal and I realize it works for some people, but it seemed too…spiritual.  I am a very realistic person and I felt that people in those groups gave up their addiction to alcohol and replaced it with an addiction to AA.  I learned some good lessons from the Big Book, however (the Big Book is a book given to AA members with several anecdotes and advice from the founders and previous AA members).  Don’t take my word for it though – maybe it would be great for you!  Just not my cup of tea.

To help with my case, I decided to do the best that I could, which means hiring the best attorney I could.  I chose a gladiator named George Milner III, who has a stellar reputation in Texas and beyond.  He wiped out my savings, but he made me feel calm and got me the best deal possible given the circumstances.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time for personal development outside of rehab.  As soon as I graduated (a month after my second arrest), it was time to study for the Texas Bar Exam – a three day monster with a 76% pass rate.  I dedicated at least 8 hours EVERY DAY (yea, weekends too!) to studying, sometimes more if I didn’t have to work or didn’t have a mini breakdown between lectures.  I stayed pretty isolated during that time, and I found it amazing how much easier it was to retain information and focus without a hangover.

At the end of July 2015, I took the Texas Bar Exam.  Four months later, I read my name on the pass list.  While this was one of the best days of my life, I could not help but focus on the asterisk located next to my name on the pass site.  This mark meant that while I passed the exam, I did not meet the character and fitness requirements of the Texas Bar, and thus, could not immediately become a licensed attorney.  Back to reality.

While I was waiting on the results, I worked in a few different places.  I had a well-paying contract job at a corporate office in Addison, TX, and I worked in a Middle Eastern cafe in Irving, TX.  It was there I met the man who would play a huge role in my future and my continued recovery.

He was a very polite and handsome customer, and he came in two to three times a week to enjoy a meal or smoke hookah.  He always sat in my coworker Karim’s section.  One afternoon while I was alone on the floor, he came in and it was my turn to wait on him.  Our initial interaction was not noteworthy, but after a few minutes he took out the key to my heart – a DayMinder Dayplanner! No, I know you wish I was kidding, but it’s true.  People like me, who enjoy writing down goals and errands into a spiral planner, are a dying breed.  I couldn’t help but comment on it, and I ended up neglecting my other tables to continue what turned out to be a wonderful conversation.  When he asked for his check, he also asked me for my number (to make a reservation at the cafe, of course) and I happily handed it over.

Many people advise not to date when you are recovering, because addiction is a mental condition, meaning you can replace your addiction to a substance with an addiction to a person, and when it doesn’t work out, you are even more devastated than before, and may turn back to whatever got you into recovery in the first place.  That’s very sage advice that I didn’t give a f**k about.  I let this man into my heart very quickly, and over the course of a month he knew about my family, my past, my addiction and arrest (really hard to hide that kind of thing with a breathalyzer in your car, lol), and all the ugly parts of my personality.  Somehow, he saw light where I could not, and we decided to give our relationship a real chance.

I concluded rehab and I wrapped up my contract job.  What happened next was SO unexpected, but it was just what I needed.

 

Light at the End of the Tunnel, Part I

I have been arrested twice for drunk driving.  I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t wreck, I had no children in the vehicle, or any other complications which would compound my guilt.

Let me tell you what it’s like to be under 30 with two very highly stigmatized arrests.  Since my last arrest in April of 2015, I have been incredibly depressed.  I until about a month ago, I would cry at the smallest reminder of my situation.  Even though I had accomplished many things in life, I felt unworthy of love, success, or escape from my situation.  I simply felt like a lesser human being.  I constantly fretted about how I would pay my student loans since I couldn’t get a good job, how I would explain my lack of success to my former law school classmates or family, how long I could pretend to be “normal” and “happy” with my life, and what I could possibly say to my future children about what I did.

I lost a man I loved because of the arrest.  I had to listen to the “I told you so” lecture from friends and family, and I learned that people will forgive mistakes, but they will not forgive patterns.  After my first DWI, people shook their head, chuckled, and said it could happen to anyone.  After my second one, I was isolated, and I could hear buzzing in my ears from people talking about how foolish I was.  It is extremely lonely.  I gave up on trying to be friend with the people I had been close to in my past with a few exceptions because, even if it wasn’t true, I felt those people were judging me.

For example, I went to a wedding for a girl I used to call my best friend in August of 2015, four months after my arrest.  Of course, she knew about my issues.  I drank at her wedding, and she came by the table and I made a joke about some of her coworkers that was inappropriate.  Everyone at the table had just been talking about the same thing, and they encouraged me to say something.  I often make jokes that cross the line, so it really had nothing to do with the drinking – that was just my personality.  After I told it to her and everyone laughed, she pursed her lips, shook her head, and just walked away.  I felt hurt of course – she was a great friend and I had offended her on her wedding day.  I found her outside later and said I was sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.  She said…yeah, I know how you are when you’re drinking.   The thing is, no. she. fucking. didn’t. She didn’t know anything about my problems, because she never cared to ask, and she was so rude that I always worried that she would ridicule or judge me if I opened up to her.  I asked my date if we could leave, and I couldn’t even wait until we got to the car to start crying.  He went to find her and told her I was crying, and she came to the car and said – get this – “I’m sorry if my friends were mean to you.”  I just shook my head and told her don’t worry about me, go back and have fun. I really considered our friendship over at that point, and I never actually told her what she did or how much it hurt me.  The thing I learned from that episode?  1) If you are afraid to open up to someone, they are not your friend, and 2) once you fuck up, everyone will judge you and see you as a product of your addiction.

After my arrest, I would get irrationally angry.  One small argument would result in me locking myself in a closet, threatening to kill myself, crying until I could no longer withstand the pain in my abdomen, or screaming and saying horrible things that I regretted as soon as they left my lips.  I would tell my boyfriend to just leave me, that I wasn’t worth anything, that he could find a better woman literally anywhere.  I  wasn’t trying to taunt him or beg for attention, I actually felt that.  I worked for a very awful boss (70 years old, power hungry, narcissistic jackass attorney who believed women belonged in the home and made blatant sexist comments to me an others), and even though I can usually deal with geriatric shit stains like him easily, every time we would get in a confrontation (read: weekly) I would cry.  I just couldn’t handle criticism nor friction.  Imagine a life like that!  It was just awful.

Little by little though, things started to change…

Diary Entry: May 7, 2016

Yesterday I received a letter from my lawyer asking for $9,000 and advising that my BAC for my DWI 2nd was 0.125.

Standing outside of my apartment reading the letter, I felt as if Freon was coursing through my veins.  I was cold, shaky, and honestly shocked.  I entered the apartment after a few moments in the passageway.  My husband, who was finally home after 2 1/2 weeks on a rig, was blissfully unaware of my emotional state, was cheerful as usual as he did the dishes.  I tried to maintain my composure for his sake.  I failed.

I went into the bedroom and shut the door, then cried as if I had lost a loved one.  It actually hurt.  My jaw is still twitching today, nearly 16 hours later.

He wants to understand what is going on in my mind, and I want to tell him.  In order to do so, I must understand it myself.  There is a mosaic of emotion in my mind, and the part of glass which catches the most sunlight is the color that shines through, even if it’s the not shade I wish to focus on at the moment.  This leaves with the monumental task of controlling the sun.  Here goes nothing…

  1. The first thing I feel is ANGER.  I am angry at myself for being so dumb, for ruining my career for an insignificant night with people who are not even my real friends.  I feel angry at the smug officer who arrested me.  I feel angry with the justice system for not adjudicating my case despite it occurring over a year ago.  I feel angry at the Texas Board of Law Examiners for denying my licence for a mistake I made even though I am paying the price for it every single day.  I feel angry at my friends and family for sweeping my addiction under the rug (and even encouraging it sometimes) instead of giving me the slap in the face I needed.
  2. I feel HOPELESS.  I lost hope in getting a law license in Texas and Oklahoma. I lost hope in getting a job that will pay my bills.  I lost hope in even getting an hourly job for which I am overqualified and underpaid because I can’t pass a background check.
  3. I feel FEAR and ANXIETY.  If I can’t be a lawyer and I am limited in other job options, I will not be able to pay my bills.  I have 5K in credit card debt and 200K in student loan debt.  My money will go to bills and court fees while I empty my savings and drown in interest.  In 5-7 years, when my background will be less of an issue, I will be near 40, and I don’t know that I will still be sharp enough to convince anyone that I deserve a second third chance.
  4. I also feel SHAME.  I see my friends celebrating success in their careers while I am working as a part-time envelope stuffer.  I wonder what I will tell my kids about my life.  I wonder who knows about my history and what people are saying behind my back.  I feel ashamed to spend time with my professional friends who didn’t fuck everything up for themselves.  How do I explain to them that I put myself in mental and professional catharsis?
  5. I feel LONELY.  I don’t associate with other criminals, so there is not a single person in my life who can understand what I am going through.  I can tell people how I feel, and they will nod and sympathize and tell me everything is going to be OK.  But, maybe it won’t.  I know that, but they can’t possibly know.  Maybe my life really is on hold and it will continue to be miserable for the foreseeable future.  I am not a pessimist, but the truth is not always caked in glitter.
  6. I feel like a FRAUD.  When I was in law school, I was always terrified.  I kept fighting, studying, working…but on the inside, I was so self-conscious.  I thought everyone else had their lives together, that they were sure of themselves and the path they chose.  I was a kitten among lions, just waiting for someone to see right through me.  I still feel that sense of inadequacy and I simply don’t know why.  I have the brains and the talent, but something is preventing me from executing.  It was, at least. Now my pending trial has all but made me completely abandon all hope to chase my 24-year-old dream of being an attorney.
  7. I feel spectacularly UNMOTIVATED.  I don’t care about my looks, my cooking, reading, writing, keeping the house in order, setting personal goals – I don’t care about anything.  I wake up, do what I have to do for the day, then retreat into myself.  I numb my mind with hookah and TV.  I avoid talking to friends and family and even my husband.  I have no sex drive.  I have no joy.  Living like this is not living, but I don’t have the fight in me to change it anymore.

How does one re-invent themselves at 29?  What I always wanted is no longer an option, and so many doors of possibility are now closed.  And it’s all my fault.  I carry concrete bricks on my shoulders everywhere I go.  Before, I was hanging onto the glimmer of hope that I would have a low BAC and be found not guilty.  Now, that seems foolish.  The hopelessness I feel in this case is leaking into other parts of my life.

I know I have to change.  What I am doing isn’t fair to myself nor those around me. But how?  How do I pick up all these broken pieces when it hurts to get off the couch?  Others turn to faith, but I have none.  I loathe AA for all the false hope its attendees have. I can’t afford therapy.  Saying “no” and “I can’t” constantly is cancerous to the mind, but how do I convince myself otherwise?

My mental decline has affected my physical health as well.  I am always tired.  I broke my wrist 6 months ago and it simply didn’t heal.  I got my first-ever bladder infection.  My cramps have intensified.  I am prone to headaches and nausea.  I was always so strong, healthy, and energetic until about one year ago.  Now I am a roll of dough, absorbing every knead.  Fuck, how did I let this happen?

I don’t really know how to end this entry.  I should end with some resolution to change or some promise to myself that I will stop this selfish behavior and be the best person I can despite my circumstances.  I can’t do that this time.  I don’t know if someday I will laugh about this period of my life or look down from some high-rise office and remember when I through I couldn’t do it.  But for now, the score is Life: 1, Amber: 0.

 

****Not part of my diary entry, but I though it important to note here that I am not looking for sympathy, condescending remarks, or affirmation. I am using this blog as an outlet and if anything good comes out of it, it should be to help people like me in knowing that they are not alone in these battles.  Thanks.   -A

Real Talk: Life as an Alcoholic

One of the things that shaped my personality the most as a young woman was my dangerous relationship with alcohol.  Using it has prevented me from getting a law license, led to two arrests, ended relationships, caused weight gain and depression, ruined what should have been good memories, put me in dangerous situations, and depleted my finances.  I am finally over the addiction, and I feel so strong and accomplished.  I would like to share the highlights of my story.

The first time I got drunk, I was 12 years old.  My family is full of heavy drinkers, and I was left unsupervised at my aunt’s party in a trailer park near Cedar Springs Lake.  I had 3 to 4 mudslides (which, to a young person, taste like milkshakes).   That night, I was sexually abused by my cousin – a foreshadowing of the blurred lines of consent while intoxicated.  I stayed up half the night vomiting, and the other half I spent dry heaving.  My grandfather and other family members learned of the incident and stayed with me that night to make sure I didn’t suffocate on my own vomit.  They were upset, but not upset enough to tell my mother.

3_frozen-mudslide

Exhibit A: Mudslide.

     The next few years were my happiest.  I had great friends. I did well in high school, and I met my first love.  Not much happened with regard to alcohol abuse until I was 18 and started working at a local bar.  At that time, my boyfriend had moved overseas (he was not an America citizen, just here to study), and I tried to be strong through that experience but the truth was that I was devastated and heartbroken, and it would take me several years to recover.  I got a job at the bar because I wanted money and I had been waiting tables for 4 years at a breakfast joint.  I felt it was time to move somewhere that I could make “real” money.  The bar was fun, and I did make money.  The downside of that was that I got involved in a lifestyle that was dirty and too advanced for my age.  I tried to see myself as an equal to the patrons of the bar. But I was in high school, and these people had careers and spouses.  I didn’t fit in.  I also didn’t understand that seasoned drinkers have the ability to know which alcohol they can handle and how much of it is safe.  I, as a new drinker, lacked that ability.  I frequently left my tables to go behind the building and puke.  I would sometimes wake up in my bed and not remember how I got there.  I gave out my phone number, kissed people, went to after parties with strangers, drove through residential neighborhoods with enough alcohol to be poisoned. I was a disaster.   How could this happen?  Well, my parents didn’t know. I worked frequently and I was still in school danced on a team in my free time.  I wasn’t home and we didn’t talk unless it was about serious things like graduation and the like.  And, I saw the whole thing as an experience.  I laughed it off.  I didn’t take it seriously.  When we are young, we feel invincible.  When that is mixed with alcohol, life is more like a tango with the grim reaper.

On the left: High School Junior at a football game; On the Right: The Manhattan’s Cocktail Waitresses   

 When I started college, binge drinking ceased to be something I had to be embarrassed about.  It was what everyone did on the weekends.  I was especially popular since, throughout the four years in college, I worked as a bartender at a Middle Eastern restaurant, a cocktail waitress at an American bar, and a server with a “hook up” on drinks at a club.  I had an older boyfriend who always kept alcohol on hand.  Though I was so young and should have been focusing my energy on landing my dream career or getting impressive internships, I was so content with drinking nonstop and making money that I failed to realize all the opportunities I had been missing.

sorority

Just a casual Sunday in college. 

  I should not give the impression that I was a loser, however, because that is far from the truth.  While I did go out too much and drank over what would be considered healthy or normal, I also held several leadership positions and was a great influence on campus.  I was President of Student Government, Membership Vice President of my sorority, and President of Phi Alpha Delta Pre-Law Society.  In addition, I competed in Model Arab League and organized the competition on campus my senior year (that’s something like Model U.N., but with Arab States).  I also worked in a retail shop, a title office, and a NGO throughout my college years.  I went through two “serious” relationships (one ended because he asked me to marry him and I didn’t want that, and the other guy cheated on me, stole money from me, and was verbally abusive about my weight – I weighed 160). All the while, I was keeping it together on the surface, but I was absolutely drowning.  I was legally able to buy alcohol, so I didn’t have to sneak around anymore in bars and clubs. I began to pack on weight, my skin became dry and lost its youthfulness, and my self esteem was just plummeting.  Again, no one knew.  I lived alone, my friends were all binge drinkers and when I would get sick or be hungover, they would laugh about it.

model arab league

I’m on the right, looking very official.  Model Arab League Exec Meeting, 2007

     My best friend at the time, a gorgeous woman named Amanda, built my confidence a little bit by just being a companion.  But, she also unintentionally added to the problem.  She was beautiful with long blond hair and legs for days.  She was friends with all the beautiful men in our social group – she even lived with one of them.  She was thin, carefree, and smart – all the things I (thought I) wanted to be.  Anytime she wanted to go out, I was there.  I usually even offered to pay.  Something about being around people I felt were “better” or “cooler” than me made me drink twice as much as I normally would.  I wanted to fit in, but I didn’t have the confidence. Drinking gave that to me.  It made me happy and feel like I could be a part of this group.  The truth was, I was never really in it.  People knew me, but I didn’t have any friends there.  I was a laughing stock.  And I continued to be promiscuous, make horrible choices, go out to dumb places and spend money I didn’t have – all to make myself feel like I belonged.  This was a dark time, but not the worst.  That was yet to come.

aa

My idol, Amanda.

     Some of my biggest mistakes up to that point were cheating on my boyfriend, getting kicked out of a bar for underage drinking, being intimate with a professor, attempting solicitation, wrecking a car on an icy bridge, contracting a (curable) disease, screaming at friends or romantic interests in public, lying about my ethnicity and my history, and driving drunk repeatedly.  All of those things were tied to alcohol.  All of my dirtiest deeds and misfortunes occurred when I was under the influence of alcohol.  So, why didn’t I snap out of it?

The reason I continued is not that simple.  There are the obvious explanations:

  • I lack self-discipline;
  • I was addicted to alcohol;
  • I didn’t feel the consequences of my actions; and
  • It made me feel better.

And the not-so-obvious reasons:

  • My father was a heroin addict (as some research shows propensity for addiction may be genetic);
  • I had untreated depression and anxiety;
  • I felt a lot of pressure as the first person in my family to go to college;
  • We were always poor and rejected from many places when I was young and I never let go of that feeling;
  • My friends and my family (except my mom) always seemed to be drunk, so I didn’t understand the big deal; and
  • Despite continuing to drink, I was relatively successful.

The funny thing was, I didn’t consider myself to be an alcoholic during this period of my life.  I knew that I was a “binge drinker”, and I knew that alcohol had led me to some poor decisions, but alcoholics in my mind were people who could not go one day without drinking.  I wasn’t at that stage.  I had 2 or 3 days during the week when I didn’t have any alcohol.  I also didn’t normally keep alcohol at home, just drank when I went out.  All of that stuff to me meant that I was still in the clear.

Reflecting on it now, I have the same impression that I am sure you all do, “How the fuck do you look at that and not see alcoholism?”  I have shed many tears once I allowed that Pandora’s box to open, and I remembered all of the embarrassing moments I had as a drunk idiot.  But, for whatever reason, I never heeded advice when people told me to slow down.  I never considered it to be a problem since I had no real health risks, I had graduated from college, and I had never been arrested.  All of that was about to change, however, when I decided to go to law school.

 

To be continued. 

 

“The List” (dun dun DUNNNN)

This blog was created for the purpose of achieving goals.  I have several.  They range from small to colossal, and the effort, finance, and self-gratification that will follow achieving any of these goals will also range form minuscule to mammoth.  But, before I start to work on the goals floating around in my head, I need to get them in print (that is, somewhere besides one of the countless pages of the hundreds of journals and stationary I keep around the house).  I hope to periodically update this list and include an “achieved” section as well as time goes on.  But here you have it folks, the very first version.

Lifetime Goals

(work on these will be broken down into smaller goals over time):

  1. Write a book
  2. Work for the U.N. (or another equally impressive international organization)
  3. Travel the World
  4. Open a no-kill cat sanctuary
  5. Own a cafe
  6. Be a professor
  7. Be extremely fit
  8. Be on television (like, once is ok. I don’t need a sitcom)
  9. Become a millionaire
  10. NOT have a desk job
  11. Be extremely happy
  12. Coach other people to success
  13. Have a second chance program for homeless and addicts in my community
  14. Have a shelter for trafficking victims
  15. Speak fluent Arabic
  16. Be a lawyer (for a period of time, not as a career)

Baby Goals:

(Total list should be completed by April 15, 2016)

  1. Find a place to volunteer related to animals or international affairs (and follow through)
  2. Have an awesome patio
  3. Get my apartment super organized
  4. Research the U.N. and get in contact with someone to introduce myself and express my intentions
  5. Lose 10 pounds
  6. Become a cat sitter 🙂
  7. Pick ONE side hustle (no action needed, just pick one)
  8. Learn to fold a fitted sheet
  9. Prepare a schedule and follow it for one full week

Medium Goals: 

(Total list should be completed by August 1, 2016)

  1. Pay off my credit cards
  2. Pay my other expenses (more on that later)
  3. Have an independent investment account
  4. Have $15,000 in savings
  5. Lose 25 pounds
  6. Learn to read and write Arabic
  7. Get part 1 of my book completed
  8. Make $3,000 in income from side jobs/miscellaneous (anything not coming from my primary full time job counts)

Big Goals:

(List should be completed by year-end 2016):

  1. Lose 50 pounds
  2. Finish my book and self-publish it
  3. Make a comprehensive life goal list/plan (with details and deadlines)
  4. Have a little business, no matter how small it is – something that is registered and real

Current Progress/Achievement List (as of 3/9/2016)

Baby Goals:

Number 6 – I posted an ad on Craigslist to advertise my services as a cat sitter.  I’m not counting this goal as complete until I have an actual client. In addition, I requested franchise information from Fetch.com, a national, established company that offers a more standardized approach to pet care.  It is $15,000, so I’m not ready to open the franchise yet; but I’m keeping it very close in mind.

Medium Goals:

Number 1 – I have one credit card completely paid off.  The second one is going to be paid off by the beginning of next month.  The last one (which is the largest debt and currently only getting minimum payments) is going to be tackled beginning next month and paid off by August.

Number 4 – I have $4,600 in savings.  That isn’t a lot, but considering the fact that I started saving this year, it’s not half bad. There is a slight chance I will have to deplete my savings next month; but I am hoping that doesn’t occur.

Number 7 – I have an outline complete and I have completed a few chapters.  Part one includes all the time that my character is still in the United States.  Once I finish that, I will consider this goal complete.

Big Goals:

Not much going on here yet.  For my business, I am considering some options…but really thinking about starting a publishing company.

Well, that’s all folks.  I have gotten pretty excited writing this, and I hope you are excited for me too.  I really love planning, let’s see how I do following through. Ciao!