April 16, 2011.
There's no question as to how I got put in jail a second time or what had gotten
me arrested on that morning. It took some time to make peace with the fact that such
a foolish decision was not the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong
time, but that the consequences of just waiting on someone to take me how
would’ve resulted in nothing more than me having to endure hanging out just a
few more hours and waking up early to start the next day’s festivities. Driving
under the influence could have not only ruined my professional life, but also a
personal life that had started to look quite bright.
This blog isn’t a gripe session about the shame and agony I feel giving my
life to a program that I would have under no circumstances have joined had I not
been arrested. It’s not about bashing a judicial program designed to combat
drunk driving. It’s not even about living a lifestyle free of alcohol or drugs
through adapting to principles of a 12-step program. I am already living
through that. That’s not your life (or at least it’s not anymore).
This blog is about bouncing back from pitfalls that could have broken you, sent you
to a hell that even some of your closest family members and friends had no idea
about. It’s about conquering the torment of being labeled something you are not
by pushing back through a means of making your SECOND CHANCE count.
Please
don’t let the word “RECOVERY” fool you.
It’s not just for addicts and fiends.
It’s for everyone who took the path often traveled and finding themselves
seemingly trapped by circumstances that were never beyond their control. They
just chose to do otherwise because they had done it so many times before and the
consequences were small—if any.
But in order for you, me, all of us to make this life count (in what may be some of you all's last go-round), we have to start keeping it R.E.A.L.
RELATE. Your story doesn’t have to be my
story, but there is a sure guarantee that you have one. Lose someone close to
you and felt your world was crumbling before your eyes? Give up on a dream
because you thought the cards were stacked against you? Thought about taking
the “easy way out” because nothing ever seemed to go right? Trust. I’ve been
there and; and sometimes, I find myself wondering if this hell I’m experiencing
is ever going to leave. Navigating this struggle to live a full life is kind of
like being Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible. The mission, should you choose
to accept it, is to become comfortable enough to share that story so that others
can find the comfort and empathy necessary to share a story of their own.
EMPOWER. In sharing a piece of our lives with
others, we realize that we often have more in common than not. Opening
ourselves up is but a small step forward to live out our that aspect of our
lives that we may have placed on the back burner or completely lost due to lack
of motivation. I may not totally understood the entire concept of why I have to attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, but
one ideal that really stuck to me was “carrying the message.” I believe
everyone has a story, good or bad, that can be an example to someone who has or
will come to that fork in the road of life and be forced to make a choice. It
is my hope that the information presented to you would be instrumental in making
choices that benefit your life in a positive way, rather than have to go all the
hell myself and so many others have gone through to come to the realization that
we weren’t meant to live a life of mediocrity.
ALTER. The “message” gathered from sharing
one’s life with even an audience of one is just as powerful as if connecting
with an audience of one hundred thousand. The idea is to touch, connect, and
change. We must change the way we operate in our daily lives by changing our
way of thinking. Instead of dwelling on negative outcomes, develop a mindset
intended on personal progression. The road to RECOVERY is not about doing
things completely perfect to achieve a utopian outcome of a life rid of
internal/external battles. Trial and error lead us into a space essential to
appreciating growth in our journeys as we strive to find our place in life.
LIVE. By resolving to recover from your
setback (whether it be mental or physical) and developing a means of inspiration
to become more than what society, parents, friends, etc. have labeled you as,
you will come to know that LIVING out your purpose is more than telling people
about who you used to be. The true goal is guide them into developing a sense
of who you are now and what better way to show them by transforming your truth
into a walking testament to the person you are ready to become. You’ve been
given a second chance to redefine “BRAND: YOU” and to go back to your old way
of doing things is as counterproductive as it was before you came to this point
in life. This is where the rubber meets the road…and all you got to do is BRING
IT!
R.E.A.L Talk, R.E.A.L. Recovery is my
story. This journey extends outside of my own path through a judicial program designed to reform alcoholics and alcohol abusers alike into free thinking individuals,
intent on embracing a life void of the vices that once kept us trapped behind
more than steel bars. Alcohol may not be your problem. Your problem may not even be related to living on the wrong side of the law; however, there are bits and pieces we can all take away to at least understand that there is always a choice when it comes to living what I like to call "our BEST LIFE"--and that the choices we make have the potential to impact generations far beyond the LIFE in which we lead today.
I’m am not an alcoholic; however, the ideals of healing
not only my body but my mind through positive thinking and the proper foundation
to move forward are lessons I have taken from this experience to
deliver to whoever wants to listen. The people I’ve met and the things I’ve
seen along the way are reasons enough to carry and develop my own message to others who seek that push
to get back up from a fall that we once believed we’d never get back up from.
So...
Are you ready to get R.E.A.L.???
Monday, April 16, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
God Takes Care of Babies and Fools...
Recovery (n.)
Webster defines it as the process of combating a disorder (such as alcoholism) or a REAL perceived problem.
Dictionary.com lists a definition of a different sort: Regaining in substance in a useable form, as from waste.
Google (who seems to have an answer for everything) described RECOVERY as "the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost."
Obviously, it's just that simple. So simple, even a 5th grader could deduce that the word recovery represents some form of fixing, a healing (if you will), of something once thought damaged or irrepairable.
Is that what I was? Was I damaged? Was something inside of me irrepairable?
What started out as a night with the boys ended in a blur of flashing lights, handcuffs, and a violent seizure on the floor of the Athens-Clarke County Jail...
Gasping for air from a condition dormant only until extreme anxiety engulfs my entire being, I could remember flapping around on the floor like a fish out of water, hoping to completely pass out before they could open the holding cell. Losing complete consciousness...hell, dying or the perception thereof, could have been the only means of me leaving that place. And for a brief second, dying on that floor didn't seem so bad.
I, ladies and gentlemen, have the uncanny ability to drink far more than the normal person my size (5'8, 175 lbs) and still function like a"normal" human being. Walk. Talk. Drive. All the typical functions of what is perceived to be "regular." However, on two seperate occassions, I have been convicted of driving under the influnce in the state of Georgia--earning the distinct label of a habitual offender.
Habitual (adj.)
Regular, usual...
I had made a habit of drinking and getting behind the wheel of my vehicle, as many of you who are reading this blog have done, knowing that you take pride in being able to "hold you liquor" enough to get you safely home without having to worry about any harm coming to you or others. And I thought the same thing. I could hold it...and very well indeed. Yet, I had taken my fairshare of chances, rolling the dice of life--finally rolling another snake eyes.
The old folks say God takes care of babies and fools; and at age 28, I was disqualified from the "baby" category, yet I was playing the role of the "fool" quite well.
I hadn't killed anyone, or even injured anyone the night of the incident (at least physically), and my job was still safe as I had informed my employer of the situation. It was the shame and shackles connected to an upcoming jail sentence, followed by a drug treatment program stint, that really set the stage for what was to come...
Webster defines it as the process of combating a disorder (such as alcoholism) or a REAL perceived problem.
Dictionary.com lists a definition of a different sort: Regaining in substance in a useable form, as from waste.
Google (who seems to have an answer for everything) described RECOVERY as "the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost."
Obviously, it's just that simple. So simple, even a 5th grader could deduce that the word recovery represents some form of fixing, a healing (if you will), of something once thought damaged or irrepairable.
Is that what I was? Was I damaged? Was something inside of me irrepairable?
What started out as a night with the boys ended in a blur of flashing lights, handcuffs, and a violent seizure on the floor of the Athens-Clarke County Jail...
Gasping for air from a condition dormant only until extreme anxiety engulfs my entire being, I could remember flapping around on the floor like a fish out of water, hoping to completely pass out before they could open the holding cell. Losing complete consciousness...hell, dying or the perception thereof, could have been the only means of me leaving that place. And for a brief second, dying on that floor didn't seem so bad.
I, ladies and gentlemen, have the uncanny ability to drink far more than the normal person my size (5'8, 175 lbs) and still function like a"normal" human being. Walk. Talk. Drive. All the typical functions of what is perceived to be "regular." However, on two seperate occassions, I have been convicted of driving under the influnce in the state of Georgia--earning the distinct label of a habitual offender.
Habitual (adj.)
Regular, usual...
I had made a habit of drinking and getting behind the wheel of my vehicle, as many of you who are reading this blog have done, knowing that you take pride in being able to "hold you liquor" enough to get you safely home without having to worry about any harm coming to you or others. And I thought the same thing. I could hold it...and very well indeed. Yet, I had taken my fairshare of chances, rolling the dice of life--finally rolling another snake eyes.
The old folks say God takes care of babies and fools; and at age 28, I was disqualified from the "baby" category, yet I was playing the role of the "fool" quite well.
I hadn't killed anyone, or even injured anyone the night of the incident (at least physically), and my job was still safe as I had informed my employer of the situation. It was the shame and shackles connected to an upcoming jail sentence, followed by a drug treatment program stint, that really set the stage for what was to come...
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