11. Easter 2019
Four years ago, I spent Easter in a cold cell while detoxing cold turkey from alcohol and Benzodiazepines in Orange County Jail. Turns out that the Easter Bunny doesn’t make a pit-stop at the local jail (at least not mine) to deliver candy and hide eggs for the prisoners. I’d been arrested many times before, but this time I was facing much more serious charges than in the past - ones that, if convicted, carry hefty prison sentences.
One week prior to Easter of 2019, I was arrested by a local police agency after pulling into a public parking lot and recklessly clipping a parked car. I was so messed up from eating Xanax pills and drinking beers earlier that day that I didn’t even realize I had hit anything at all. I parked, locked up my car and went into the bar across the street to throw back a few more cold ones and keep my “buzz” going. A short while later I looked outside and happened to see police lights flashing in the parking lot that I had parked in. To this day, I still don’t know what I was thinking when I stormed out of that bar and up to those police officers, brazingly asking what they were doing near my car knowing damn well what I had stashed away inside. If this isn’t proof that drugs make you do crazy things, then I don’t know what is. The officers told me I was caught on camera hitting a parked car. Next, they asked if I had any weapons or drugs on me and it was at that very moment that I realized the jig was up, and I was done for. I told them that I did have “some” pills in my car that could be found in my driver side door panel and the center console. Officers began searching my car, ripping through my belongings until they finally found a sandwich bag full of 520 Xanax pills, right where I had stashed them. They arrested me on the spot and charged me with felony intent to distribute a controlled substance, felony possession of a controlled substance, several drug possession misdemeanors, misdemeanor driving under the influence, and tons of driving violations.
I woke up out of my blackout in Orange County Jail nearly two days later with absolutely no recollection of what I had been arrested for. Mixing alcohol and Benzodiazepines (Benzos) is extremely dangerous, often resulting in “blackouts.” I remember waking up and reading the word “INMATE” written on the leg of my jail jumpsuit, and the feeling of my heart sinking into my stomach that immediately followed.
I spent the entire week locked alone in my cell, for over twenty-three hours a day in the medical unit. I was placed there for a minimum of seven days which is protocol for an inmate withdrawing from alcohol AND Benzos. They USUALLY let me out of my cell for thirty minutes daily to shower and make a phone call. There were days when the COs were so busy dealing with other prisoners in the dorm that my shower and phone call were overlooked. My cell consisted of a metal cot, a toilet with a sink connected on top and a broken clock/speaker on one of the walls. My cell door had a small, sliver of window that looked out into the common area of the dorm where other prisoners passed time watching TV, eating meals, working out, and playing card games. I was only allowed to have two white T-shirts, two pairs of boxers, two pairs of socks and one pair of “jail slides” (a slip-on shoe) in my cell at any given time. I wasn’t allowed ANY books or magazines the entire week. Time seems to slow down to almost a complete halt when you’re withdrawing from alcohol and drugs while locked up in jail with absolutely nothing to do to pass it by. I found myself so bored some days that I resorted to counting the small holes in each concrete block of my jail cell’s walls. I was grasping at straws; doing anything to try and pass time.
Easter arrived a week later, and I was still locked up. There would be no annual Easter ham dinner with my family that night. Instead, I found myself eating bread that I sprinkled a packet of sugar on. It was all I could manage to keep down as a result of withdrawals paired with how nasty the food looked AND smelled. I’ll never forget the stench of some of those meals; it’s as if the smell was burned into my nostrils! Although these memories from addiction are unpleasant, they help me remain vigilant against my disease of addiction. Someone once told me that if I forget where I came from, I’m bound to end up back there; and I most definitely don’t want that. Today, I am over three years sober from alcohol and drugs AND I get to spend Easter with my family again. Life just keeps getting better and better for me and I refuse to screw it up by using alcohol and drugs again.
I hope everyone had a safe and relaxing holiday. Until next week, friends!
And remember, if you’re struggling, or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope. If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be able to spread awareness today.
