anxiety

Light at the End of the Tunnel, Part 2

Miss A Leave a comment

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.

 

Diary Entry: May 7, 2016

Miss A Leave a comment

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