A reason for sober celebration

I was enjoying the balmy fall weather one recent night on my porch, when some patrons from a nearby neighborhood bar ambled down my street to their cars.

One woman, well-dressed and probably in her mid-50s, had parked her SUV directly across from my house. My dogs, who were enjoying the unseasonably warm evening with me from safely behind a baby gate, boofed a few times as per usual, then settled. I was nose deep in a book on my iPad and wasn’t paying any attention to the action in front of me until I heard keys jangling, dropping, then jangling again a few minutes later.

This poor lady could not find the keyhole to unlock her car. And I am here to tell you that it may have been long past sunset, but between the street lamp above her and my porch lights across from her, it wasn’t all that dark.

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Finally, the friends who had walked out with her called her name from up the block and asked if she was having some trouble. It was a rhetorical question, apparently, because clearly she was. First off, she was desperately trying to fit her key into the passenger door handle, about 4 inches too low, in my estimation.

Of course, by this point, I was in full-on nosy neighbor mode, craning my neck to see the events unfold and listening intently for more information.

One of the women went over and gently grabbed the struggling lady's keys, walked her to the driver’s side of the car and unlocked the door. The more sober woman asked again if the inebriated lady was OK. She mumbled something that must have been affirmative because both got in their respective cars. Once again, I doubted very much that she was OK when it took her another 5 minutes to get her car started and lurch into the street.

Drunk lady and her friends headed off in opposite directions, and I was left thinking: How could they allow her to drive home like that? How could I let her drive like that? Should I have done something? Would anything short of calling the cops have made a difference? And would they have been able to get here in time to stop her from driving away?

I honestly don’t have the answer to any of those questions. I hope to hell she didn’t hurt herself or anyone else, but I have no idea what happened after she turned off my street.

What I do know is, that used to be me. And I thank the divine powers of the universe that I made it to the other side of such a painful, desperate existence.

Just this past Nov. 20, I celebrated 8 years of clear thinking and sober living. You can read about my journey here and here. It was early evening before I remembered the day’s significance. That shows me that not drinking is such a normal part of my life today that I don’t have to actively think about it to stay on the right path.

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The first year or so after I quit the bottle, I literally counted, acknowledged and praised myself for every single day I survived without a drink. At about 6 p.m. on Nov. 20, I just happened to notice the date on my phone’s calendar and thought, “Huh. Eight years. Alrighty then.”

Eight years ago, back when I used to drink to excess nearly every day, no one could stop me from driving home from the bar. My friends would have had to wrestle me to the ground before I would have agreed to take a cab. I never wanted to admit I was too drunk to drive, but I bet you dollars to donuts that I always was.

As it happened, I never gave anyone the opportunity to wrestle my keys away. To avoid the “Are you sure you’re OK” conversation altogether, I would just sneak out the door without a word. My best friend liked to say I pulled a Houdini. I’ve also heard it called ghosting or the Irish goodbye.

Anyhoo, my point is that no one was going to A.) stop me from drinking myself into oblivion and B.) keep from doing exactly what the hell I wanted to do while I was under the influence. It is a goddamn miracle that I never got a DUI, injured myself (at least physically) or others. After watching the recent events unfold on the street in front of my house, I have no idea how I got so lucky.

I could certainly start a philosophical debate here about where responsibility falls when it comes to alcohol, i.e., is it the bartender or liquor company’s job to police or restrict how much their customers have to drink, and if they don’t, are they liable when something bad happens, etc.

I am of the opinion that individuals are responsible and accountable only for themselves, and not just because I lean toward more libertarian than socialist politics.

It’s also because I know from experience that no one who struggles with addiction can sustain a sober life if it is forced upon them. I made the choice to stop drinking when the pain of staying the same became worse than the prospective pain of change, and that’s why I have, well, stayed stopped for eight years.

If someone had “made” me quit, whether that was the courts, family, friends, my job, I would not be where I am today — happy, healthy and without any urge whatsoever to pick up a bottle of wine on my way home, like, ever.

Even if outside influences were able to force me to stay dry, I promise you I would still be craving a drink every moment of every day for all eternity, and making everyone around me miserable as a result. Addiction is just as much mental as it is physical.

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So all of this is to say that while the compassionate and socially responsible side of me thought for a split second I should have (or could have) done something when I watched the drunk lady across the street drive away, the realist in me knows there was really nothing I could have done to stop her.

First, you can’t reason with a drunk. There is no way she would have listened to me if I had stepped down off my porch to approach her. Worse case, she might have gotten belligerent (I definitely would have, back in the day.)

And second, even if I could have prevented her from driving that night, it would likely have happened again. And again, until she reaches the point in her journey that she’s had enough and asks for help. And it's possible that she'll never actually reach that point.

Maybe I am just rationalizing my own guilt for not taking some action, I don’t know. Plus, I am making the assumption this woman is a problem drinker. This may have been an isolated incident. I doubt it, but one can hope.

I do know that, as a former drunk lady, I am not unique. For every one of us who is lucky enough to get sober and change our lives, there are hundreds, if not thousands, who can’t or won’t.

Addiction certainly does not discriminate. Remember that the next time you see a well-dressed professional woman fumbling to get in her SUV.

If I am ever in that situation again, I am going to try to swallow my doubt and speak up. Offer to call a cab. Maybe even make her some coffee while we sit together on my porch.

It might not make any difference. But what if it does?

It would be pretty awesome if someone else gets to celebrate a special milestone eight years from now. Right?