It’s surreal to go back listen to some of the things I said before rehab. For me, at least.
I was revisiting the Let’s Get Sober podcast. Being extremely busy the last few days, I haven’t really had the time to write up any new posts. I’ve been hitting the ground running on revitalizing the philosophy side of Philosophy Redux…in addition to working full time and working on other projects….that I had to fill this blog with something to keep momentum going.
And then I came across episode 7.
It’s not my best work, but it did remind me of an event earlier this year that rattled me. Being of “liberal mind”, I like to think that anything is forgivable, as long as someone paid their dues and was remorseful.
Come to find out, that’s easier said that done.
Being in AA rooms, you find that everybody has stories of regret. As the saying goes, “No one attends AA because they’re on a winning streak.” So it’s easy to find forgiveness in these halls because nearly everyone has traversed similar paths.
But some go too far.
I believe the person that expressed his actions was genuinely remorseful, but I simply couldn’t look the man in the eye. I was disgusted by everything he said. But when all was said and done….I was far more disgusted with my reaction.
I’ve said before that America isn’t ready for criminal justice reform. Myself included. Our feelings of moral superiority plague us. But as I said (not so eloquently) in the podcast “there’s a Dennis Hopper in all of us” (it’ll make sense when you listen to it). And the only way to keep the monster at bay is to understand it, rather than ignore it. When we reckon with these demons, then America will be ready for such reforms.
Here’s the episode below. As a reminder, this happened in April. Not at a recent meeting.
Additionally, back in May, I wrote another post that somewhat explores my drunken behavior.
THE BLIND SIDE OF CONSCIOUSNESS
I relapsed yesterday.
I don’t know what it is about me. Yet everywhere I go, I manage to piss someone off. Yesterday, in the bar, someone wanted to hit me. I don’t recall it. I don’t recall, at any point, being angry or upset. But somehow, somebody wanted to punch me in the face. It is by the grace of God that I have never been severely injured. Nor did I get thrown out of the bar. So once again I dodged a bullet.
I suppose a buddy of mine saved me from myself. He thought the encounter was hilarious.
It doesn’t really matter if it’s not entirely my fault. I don’t like contributing to people’s bad nights.
The closest I ever got to being critically injured was the night I didn’t attend my college graduation. Under the influence of alcohol, energy drinks, and likely drugs, I blacked out. Not a single thing that I remember for nearly two hours. When I did regain consciousness, I was being held face down on the kitchen floor. My arm extended out as a man was preparing to break it. There was a party that night, and apparently everybody left due to my erratic behavior. The gentleman holding me down was hosting the party.
Somehow I talked my way out of getting my arm broken. The same mouth that got me into trouble also got me out. The following morning he explained to me what happened. I don’t know if his story was true, and it didn’t matter.
Stress can cause people to have strange experiences. The fact that I angered all of my friends, and didn’t know how, caused me to have an out-of-body experience. In the months leading up to the event, I was inebriated everyday. Finally, there was a moment of sobriety. I had a meltdown.
I don’t know why I started drinking yesterday. I just found myself drunk. Then ended up at the bars and left without remembering anything. There’s a blind spot in my consciousness, a side of me that I just can’t see. I’d like to think that I’m in control. Yet clearly I’m not.
And that’s what terrifies me.