Consequences Part 1

I want to begin this brand-new blog by explaining what my blog title means by providing a brief explanation. First, I do not mean to imply that I am better than any other addict; it's simply given my story, I have been told before that I am not the typical "face" of addiction.  Addiction, and the fallout, can happen to anyone. In my case, no one saw this coming, especially the true depths of my addiction.

I seemingly had it all. There was my exceptional high school career: not only did I have the grades, but I was involved in many extracurricular activities: sports, student government, almost all of the clubs you could imagine, and had a very active social life. Following high school, I attended the University of Michigan and did very well there. Again, the grades and social life were in the palm of my hand. I had an enjoyable and successful experience. (There were a few traumatic experiences, but I will discuss those at a later date.)

Following college, it only made sense that I would continue in my education; I "always wanted to be an attorney" (SO cliché), and so I continued on to law school. I enrolled at the University of Detroit Mercy School of Law (on a two-thirds academic scholarship), and by most standards did a pretty good job, while continuing an active social life. Certainly law school was harder than my previous schooling, but I still managed to graduate cum laude. I was fortunate enough to blow right through the bar exam with minimal preparation.

After passing the bar came the job opportunities. Well, actually an opportunity, as I accepted the first offer that came my way. After putting in my time at my first job, I was head-hunted by two firms. Holy inflation of ego! And, of course, it was a great excuse to celebrate and drink more excessively, not that I needed one.

Once I changed jobs, I felt like I was on top of the world. And for a period of time, I was. More of a justification to celebrate on the regular, right? Unfortunately, the good times came to a screeching halt when I made a drunken fool of myself at my firm's open house where we were celebrating the grand opening of our beautiful and extravagant building. I had a gorgeous office with a private bathroom and almost anything (gadgets and a support staff included) in the palm of my sweaty, shaking hand. But I couldn't handle it and got completely wasted at the party (Judges and high-powered attorneys in attendance from the Detroit Metropolitan area) and sat cutting my arm while sitting at my massive, expensive desk, which occurred during tours of the office. Not exactly the highlight the firm was showcasing. I lost the job, and my mind, and admitted myself, albeit with pressure from doctors, to a psychiatric hospital unit. Everything was spinning out of control, and I didn’t know why or who to blame. What I did know is that drinking was NOT the problem.

I did bounce back and started my own practice and did very well, yet again. However, with all of that freedom to come and go as I pleased, the drinking escalated. And eventually the hard drugs started finding me, especially cocaine. I also entered an abusive relationship with a fellow attorney 20+ years my senior. I know now that he was truly a soulless creature, simply a biological entity wandering the earth leaving in his wake destruction and trauma. That's not to say he poured the booze down my throat and held my nose over the cocaine, but he didn't help things with his mind-fuckery. But again, another story for another time.

In late December of 2007, I was arrested for my first drunk driving. I received some leniency from the Judge and arresting officer, as I had been fleeing an abusive incident: I was covered in bruises, spaghetti sauce, and was wearing one shoe and one slipper.

A few months later, during another physical altercation, I called the police on my ex, but it resulted in my arrest. Those charges were eventually dropped, as my ex refused to pursue them, and I don't think it hurt that we were attorneys and had worked with the Prosecutor several times.

On a subsequent occasion, I was stopped for drunk driving but somehow managed to talk my slurry way out of it. It wasn't long, however, before I yet again had contact with the police. This time I couldn't talk my way out of it, not that I'd remember trying, as I was in a complete and total blackout. That's no surprise considering my BAC was .33, on a blood draw no less. (Very accurate.) I also urinated in a parking lot in front of a crowd of 20-30 people. Coming out of that blackout in jail in the Psychiatric Unit was scary. Not so much because of where I was, but more so because I easily could have been told I was there for killing someone; I had no recollection of what occurred, so that would not have been surprising. (It certainly would have been devastating, but I doubt that would have stopped me from continuing with the drinking and drug use.)

That last drunk driving arrest was in April of 2008. In May of that year, I checked myself into treatment.

Unfortunately, that was not the end of my drinking/drugging career, nor my criminal career (misdemeanors eventually escalated to felonies). I continued down my path of destruction and went on to rack up more consequences, including health, career, and financial, not to mention relationship issues with everyone I knew.

I guess that's a start for my first blog, and I hope to continue to put my story out there. Maybe it will help someone?