Oh man, blogging is interesting. One second you’re writing as if you’ve discovered the meaning of life and are an example to alcoholics everywhere (see last post); and the next, you’re wondering how to explain how you relapsed again, got kicked out of your SLE, and ended up in jail…
The good news is, I’m typing this from a Mac in the comfort of my childhood home. All charges were dropped and I was able to leave jail after 3 days. Rather than focus on the “what the f*ck” aspect of this whole situation, I’m going to focus on what I’ve learned.
I’ll keep the context brief. Basically, after a pretty traumatic incident, I relapsed HARD and was apprehended by a BART (Bay Area metro) police officer. I don’t really remember this as I was completely blacked out, but I apparently resisted arrest. The next thing I remember is being in a medical room on a sort of stretcher, and having some youngish looking dude in a uniform coming towards me.
For whatever reason, I did NOT want this particular officer approaching me and I remember feeling rage towards him (I’m guessing he’s the one that arrested me). This stuck in my mind because it’s very rare for me to experience that kind of anger, drunk or sober. I remember saying “stay away from me” and putting my foot up (from a laying down position) to block him from getting any closer. I guess my foot touched his chest, because he had “assault on an officer” added onto my “resisting arrest” charge.
I could go on here about how I feel that I shouldn’t have been booked into a medium-security jail for this, and instead thrown into the “drunk tank”. But can I really? The facts remain that I was belligerently drunk, blacked out, and had every reason to feel hostile towards men in general at that point. The officer was young and likely had not been trained in deescalating situations. Unfortunately, I think our interaction was one of those “wrong place wrong time” situations.
Anyways, I woke up the next morning in jail. The previous night while I had been booked, I was still drunk. I remember having lots of conversations with the other people in processing, and dancing around my “pod” (common area that multiple cells share) while holding this pathetic “mattress” they give you to sleep with on your bunk. Even the whole strip, squat and cough thing didn’t faze me.
Let me tell you, the ambience the next morning was quite different. You know how when you wake up, your body takes a second to snap out of its dream state? Mine may as well have snapped in half. The realization that I was indeed waking up in a cell hit me like a ton of bricks, and was only exasperated by my co-occurring hangover. I didn’t know what jail I was in, only had vague memories of the night before, and had a left hand so swollen that it looked like someone had blow into a latex medical glove.
I learned that besides two hours in the morning, two hours in the evening and 15 minutes for meals, all of my time would be spent in a tiny two-bunk cell. That first morning when I woke up, it was “pod time” and I was able to make phone calls. *sobbing* “Hey mom and dad, I’m in jail….” (How have they not disowned me yet right?)
At that point, I had no idea how much jail time I was potentially facing. Bail was set at $12,000 dollars, which was low compared to everyone else in my pod, but my parents (understandably) decided they wouldn’t bail me out.
The next day was my court arraignment. I had breakfast at the usual 4:15am time (who can even eat at that time?! Thankfully the pathetic excuse for oatmeal was so inedible that it wasn’t an issue anyways), then was stuffed into a bus at 6am. Once at the court house, I was put in a holding cell with everyone else set for court that day.
At around 11am, I was called up by a deputy officer. I followed him upstairs to a different holding cell on the fifth floor, and was told to wait. By that point I had been crying for hours, and I asked him what the ensuing procedure would be. He was very kind and told me that he wasn’t sure, but would come back with more details.
Ten minutes went by, then 20, then 30, then probably an hour (this is all speculative as there were no clocks or any other indication of time anywhere). While I waited, I hit a new rock bottom. I must have gone through a roll of toilet paper blowing my nose. Eventually, I decided to try what many AA members rave about: talking to a higher power. I remember praying, “higher power, whoever you are, if you really exist get me the hell out of here. I have learned my lesson and I won’t doubt you again”.
[Sounds corny, I know, but it was heartfelt.]
About five minutes later, the officer came back and apologetically let me know that he had brought me to the wrong courtroom. I must have been really sniveling because he asked me what I was in jail for. I briefly explained the situation. He was shocked that I was a first-time offender and that I hardly remembered what had happened in the first place.
Then, something trippy happened. after hearing my story, the officer looked at me and said:
“I’m going to see what I can do to get you out of here today. I believe in the big man upstairs [God], and I think you should take this as a lesson to stop you heading down the wrong path”.
And guess what? He followed through and my charges were all dropped. I haven’t been able to get our exchange out of my mind since.
Many people are turned off by AA because it comes off as super spiritual and sect-like. I myself struggle with this. My experience in jail, however, pushed me towards completing step 2:
“Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity”
Now, I don’t know what that Power is. As my wise neighbor (who has been a psychotherapist for 30+ years) puts it though, what causes a fetus’s heart to start beating? Maybe there is a piece of universal spirit in all humans.
Anyways, it ultimately doesn’t matter what got me out of jail. I don’t plan on going back, and for the next foreseeable future this means a strict adherence to no drinking. I’ve started Antabuse today, which is basically a pill that makes you hungover 15 minutes after ingesting any alcohol. Of course my dumbass is now very curious what the effects would be if I did (DON’T PRESS THE BIG RED BUTTON), but for now I’m going to pass on that experiment.
Besides learning for the 72nd time that me drinking leads to disaster, I was also reminded while in jail that nothing is black or white.
The woman who shared my cell was arrested for stabbing her 20 year old niece with a knife. This same woman consoled and reassured me throughout my time in jail, and prayed for everyone in the courthouse holding cell.
Another girl was a first-time offender who had been in the maximum security unit for 11 months. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about why she was there, but no bail was set so it must have been pretty bad. I asked her how she had survived that long in jail, as I was going crazy after just two days. She told me that she had spent every day beating herself up for the situation, but also bettering herself by taking every class available to her. When she found out my charges were dropped, she gave me a huge sincere hug.
I can’t stop thinking about imprisonment now. Of course there needs to be repercussions for crime, but there’s obviously a disproportionate amount of the general population in jail with serious mental health and/or addiction issues. One very sweet woman who was released at the same time as me was so dope-sick that she was vomiting the whole time we waited to leave. Wouldn’t it be more cost effective to offer such people treatment services as opposed to pouring abhorrent amounts of money into ineffective prisons and jails?
A U.S. Department of Justice study found that 83% of prisoners released in 2005 across 30 states were arrested at least once in the 9 years following their release. 44% were arrested during their first year after release. If prisoners could have better access to mental health services (and follow-up treatment) maybe recidivism rates would drop.
Shit, ending up in jail really didn’t take much. If I wasn’t getting help for my addiction, I would end up back there without a doubt (& I bet my charges wouldn’t be dropped again).
A lot of food for thought. In sum though, I got out of jail pretty unscathed (bless up); The criminal justice system is fucked up (duh); and if any alcohol ends up in my system I will likely projectile vomit (yum). All things considered though, I’m feeling pretty good and ready for my life to move on.
Let’s hope completing step 3 of AA doesn’t take a near-death experience or something.
Almost Linear 