Sickness Attracts Sickness

(October 2008 - April 2009)

The lawyer who was accidentally appointed to my case got the job done. He told me to cry and talk about my husband in front of the judge.  Easy.  That’s what I always did anyway.  My big line back then was, “It’s not my character it’s my circumstance.” 

The consequences were cut and dry.  No wiggle room or leniency in DUI cases.  My license was suspended for 18 months, $3000ish fine, 3 years probation and the worst part, 90 days house arrest.  But, hey, at least I didn’t have to worry about getting to work!  Plus, I deserved it.

The trial was in November and Lawyer Boy asked the judge if I could begin my house arrest after the holidays.  That was nice of him I guess.  After all was said and done in the courtroom, Lawyer Boy walked me down to the office where I had to register for probation.  He was nice and told me if I needed anything to let him know.  I was sure that would never be necessary and thought to myself – I never want to see you again.

Here is my favorite way to describe what happened next:

I’m charming.  On a good day, I’m charming.  However, that day in the courthouse, with 2 DUIs in one hand and my first inpatient discharge papers in other…?  Crying, no job, no car, no health care, no plans to change any of it -  Lawyer Boy must have thought to himself,

“That’s the girl for me!!”

During the next couple of months we became a couple.  A toxic couple.  I was still on house arrest for our first date.  He brought wine and flowers to my house.  It was lovely.

This was a huge green light for me to continue to be sick.  Now I had a partner – a drinking buddy with kids the same age as mine.  Perfect.  It was meant to be.  He knows all my “stuff” and loves me anyway.  He even read the police report.  I thought - I guess I’m not so bad after all. 

He became part of my disease.  I wanted him to take all the pain away.  I wanted to hide behind him.  I wanted him to save me.  I wanted the world to think he was just fine and therefor I was, too.  He was a giant bottle of wine.

On our first date that I was off house arrest we went to a nice restaurant in the East End.  There, he ordered a “Bombay Sapphire martini extra dry, up, with a twist and when I say extra dry, I mean extra dry.”  I ignored how pompous he was. 

As he sipped his second martini and his eyes began to glaze and squint, he told me he trusted that I would get myself together.  He went on to say he never had more than two martins at a time.  The next sentence he said was to waitress when he ordered a shot of whiskey and a glass of ice.

I could see what was happening.  I could see who he was.  I could see he had issues and hurts and hang-ups, too.  I didn’t care.  I ignored it.  I wanted to drink the way I wanted to drink and I figured this fellow certainly wasn’t going to judge me.  He was doing, too!

By the end of that evening, I suggested that maybe I should drive home.