law school

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.

 

Real Talk: Life as an Alcoholic, Part II

Miss A 1 Comment

This is a continuation of a previous post.  Read Part I here!

If you thought my last entry was sobering (yak yak yak), buckle your seatbelt.  The next chapter is where it all started to catch up.

Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of going to law school.  I have no idea why.  Perhaps I saw a television show which made it look interesting, or maybe I was convinced it would bring me fame and riches.  Regardless of the source, I stuck to this goal without actually considering that I wasn’t too interested in the law and maybe my talents would be better suited in another field.  Sitting here now, I feel like the young men and women who complain that they didn’t chase their dreams after high school because their parents were forcing them to follow a particular career path.  I was my own dictator, and I really wish I had the courage and foresight to stand up to myself.

baby lawyer

When I got accepted into law school, I was naturally excited, but also panicked. I had a job that I loved at a huge resort, a lifestyle that I had become accustomed to, and a social life that was rich and full of new experiences. I really had it all.  Giving all of that up was something I saw as necessary – I wanted to move on to bigger and better things and have some impressive degree.  Now, more than anything, I wish I would have stayed there and enjoyed that life.  I could have easily moved up the ranks, shipped out (the hotel was purchased by Marriott, and employees can transfer all around the world), or stayed in my position making a livable salary and loving my life.

 

gaylord

The Gaylord Texan Resort in Grapevine, Texas (the hotel that still has my heart)

The acceptance letter, to me, was sort of the announcement of a prison sentence.  I knew I couldn’t do any of the things I loved during law school and my life would be constantly controlled by the need to turn in assignments, read cases, research, etc.  So I started to make dumb choices.  A lot of them.

My first bad move was hanging out with a group of promoters.  These are folks who get paid to throw parties at clubs – they get a commission per head, they get free drinks, and they get VIP and after-party passes.  Now, I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I don’t like partying. I really don’t.  I feel anxious and out of place at bars and clubs, even though I have had years of experience working in such establishments.  I was never one of the “cool kids” – always a lone ranger of sorts.  As you recall, I drink more than normal when I am anxious.  Boozing it up, once again, became an activity that I did nearly every night of the week.  My parents told me to stop, my friends said I was “a little much,” my bank account was drained and I looked and felt like shit regularly.  But you better believe I convinced myself I was having a great time.

rebecca

I wasn’t kidding.  Total train wreck.

Law school was not the only external stressor in my life at that time.  My family was also a huge contributor to my drinking.

(Let me say something here. I agree with what you are thinking – no one can make you drink but YOU.  However, the people you love and spend most of your time with can absolutely contribute to your level of stress.  I don’t care how much you meditate – if your home life is a wreck, it’s a wreck.  They way I dealt with stress was drinking.  Bad choice?  Yes. My fault?  Yes.  Did I cause my own stress? Not completely.)

 

I intend to writing a separate post on this, so I will spare you the details – but at the time I was filling out my law school applications through when I started classes, my stepfather was having an affair with his first wife.  Not just a casual once-a-week after work sort of thing…but he moved out of the house and only communicated with my mother to discuss bills and other necessities.  At that time, my mother was drinking heavily, she dropped 50 pounds, and she was actually not a mother at all, but more like a sister who fell off the deep end.  Concurrently, my stepfather’s mother was literally dying of lung cancer and refused to stay in a nursing home, so my parent’s house (where I lived) doubled to serve a as a hospice unit.  Our formal dining room was converted into a hospital room of sorts, complete with a toilet, bedpan, and medical supplies so that my mother could administer morphine drips and the like.  To recap, the house smelled like death, my mom was practically manic, my brother and I were both drinking tons, the “man” of the house was off playing house elsewhere, and my brother’s firstborn, who my mother raised, was only 11 at the time and needed tons of attention and supervision. Good times.

So, one of those nights I headed out with one of my promoter friends.  He was a Venezuelan guy who went by “Toto.”  He got me into a Latin concert at the House of Blues with free admission, valet, and drinks. The night was so-so; I didn’t know the band and I didn’t know anyone there, but I was convinced it was a cool thing to do.  As the night went on, I got completely hammered by mixing drinks on an empty stomach.  I agreed to go to an after party, then another after party, at which point I was near a blackout.  Toto was driving my car because I definitely couldn’t, and he agreed to take me to his home and let me sleep it off at his place.  We got there and all was well.  I was in safe, I had a roof over my head, and I wasn’t driving.  Unsurprisingly, it didn’t stay that way.

I went to the restroom to get sick for a while, and my brilliant drunk brain thought it would be a good idea to just sleep there.  Toto lived with family and couldn’t have a girl in high heels and a miniskirt passed out in his bathroom, so he pulled me out and placed me in his bed, where I immediately passed out.  I awoke several minutes later at the sensation of movement.  Surprise surprise…Toto thought the drunk girl in his bed was an easy catch.  I was completely uninterested in that man, and I wasn’t about to let anything happen despite his feigned generosity chauffeuring me around.  I got up, demanded my keys and started being simply cantankerous.  Though he warned multiple times that I couldn’t drive, he eventually gave in so that my screaming wouldn’t interrupt his family or neighbors.  I got in my car and started driving.  I had no idea how to get home, I knew I just wanted to get our of there.    As if he knew, Toto called to warn me that there were many cops in the area. As soon as the words left his lips, I saw the lights behind me.  I had been pulled over when I was drinking previously, and I thought I could get out of this one.  I was wrong.

I pulled over into a gas station parking lot.  The reason?  I didn’t have the front license plate on my vehicle.  The real reason?  It was 2AM on a Saturday in a small town and these cops needed to feed their families. I performed the field tests (more on this later – you will NEVER get out of a DWI for your performance on these tests) and talked to the officers. I was so polite with them because I had never been pulled over.  They were polite right back, but they still had to arrest and charge me.  I wasn’t handcuffed, they talked to me all about getting into law school, and they apologized that they had to make the arrest.  It actually did make me feel better, even though that was the beginning of a long terrible journey.

That night, I slept in a freezing jail cell in Rowlett (Dallas County) and called Toto for bail the next day.  I was too embarrassed to call my parents.  I went to eat with him and his father and they assured me that everything was going to be fine.  I believed it, since I personally know so many people with DWIs.  I went home that evening, took a shower, and slept.   On Monday, I went to work as usual.  I got a phone call on my way home from my mother.  She found out about the DWI because of the 50+ advertisements we received from DWI lawyers around the metroplex (when you get arrested, your charge is available on the county database – lawyers can target you based on why you were arrested).  She was furious and I tried to explain to her that it was already in the past and that I would deal with it.  All of the sudden, she said she needed to go because my grandmother just died.  If that’s not a scene made for a Lifetime movie, I don’t know what is.

For those of you who don’t know, Dallas county is huge; and there is a TON of crime there.  There were over 99,000 arrests last year in Texas for DWIs alone.  My plea would not occur until 18 months later – after I had completed my first year of law school, had a birthday, became a student teacher, and all but forgot about the charge. The drinking continued, but I was a lot more careful with driving.  I only drove when I was REALLY not intoxicated. Several times I offered to be the DD and had no issue with it.  For a while, I calmed down.  I didn’t get drunk, I focused on school, and I tried to get my life back on track.  I definitely wasn’t prepared, however, for the amount of binge drinking involved in law school.

First year law students are able to drink at every turn.  Mixers held at the school have wine and beer.  The administrators and professors encourage students to get involved with local bar associations and the like – and all of the events have drink tickets.  Law school socials are held around town at bars.  There are no classes held on Fridays, so Thursday nights are the…well…I don’t remember most Thursday nights of my 1L year.  I made some mistakes that gave me a couple of enemies, I developed crushes that would never amount to anything, and by the time I made it to my third year, I realized I hated everyone and just wanted to graduate.

Interestingly, during law school orientation, a few hours are dedicated to substance abuse issues.  After dentists, it is believed that lawyers have the next highest rate of substance abuse issues as an industry.  How those statistics are gathered or their accuracy is questionable (as with any statistics) but going to law school and working in a law firm made me a firm believer that if you don’t drink heavily, you must be a yoga instructor or a heroin addict.  Though I had already been arrested for a DWI, and I had all of the negative experiences I mentioned in my previous post and then some…I still didn’t think I was at risk for that. Not me!  I just had a temporary, one-time slip up.

If only that were true.

To be continued…