Are You Dumb?
The small, short-lived window of lucidity that allowed me to really process what happened was what made me decide to be sober. Initially, after the tragic event, I did what I’d always done – turned to my old friend, vodka. But after a couple of weeks and being made aware of a consequence of alcohol I’d genuinely never known about, the shame and guilt became too much for your girl. The alcohol could no longer suppress my urge to vomit, even in those fleeting moments of lucidity. I needed to face the reasons I was drinking, to battle them and win, so they wouldn’t have power over me anymore. And I had to face the fact that most of my shame and guilt stemmed from abusing alcohol because of my shame and guilt – the most vicious circle, I’ll tell you that for free. Anywho, what sealed the deal for that confrontation was one event and one fact.
Before we begin, thought I’d add in a little fun fact: in January of this year, I had an MRI of my brain. The neurologist said that, due to constant dehydration – thanks to excess alcohol consumption – my brain has aged more than it should for a 31-year-old. Thank you, thank you. 🙏🏼
The Event: tied up in the psychiatric ward of a hospital.
In February, a month after my MRI, I woke up in a white room with three other beds and three other women, my wrists and ankles tied to a single bed. Scared and still more than half-drunk, I started screaming for someone to untie me, yelling that I’d do this or that if no one did. Guess what? No one untied me for a while, and I didn’t – nay, couldn’t – do anything.
After about 20 minutes of me screaming, some nurses came into the room and asked me to calm down. They told me I’d started my day by getting so drunk and acting such a fool at a mall – standing on food court tables, eating people’s French fries off their trays – that the local police had to step in. I was also violent. During my screaming and amateur wrestling fit, one of the officers said to my dad, laughing, “Yeah, she elbowed me in the chin, it’s okay though, I can take it.” I was, once again, very lucky Mr. Officer saw it that way.
As loud and angry as I was, I was apparently even worse whenever I saw my mom, wrongfully blaming her for my situation and depression.
Back to being tied up. So the nurses left without untying me. What did I do? I started chewing on the arm restraints, which were the same straps used in rock climbing. After another 20 minutes, another nurse came in, and, seeing blood running out of my mouth and marks on my wrists, they put a rolled-up towel behind my back to hold up my arms so my mouth couldn’t reach the restraints. With my body in a T-shape, I just gave up and lay there. I talked to a few people and hearing their stories helped calm me down. After another 20 minutes or so, the primary psychiatrist came in – and she’s lovely. She’s now my psychiatrist in real life. Anyway, when she first walked in, I begged and pleaded for her to let me go but she said she’d release me once I sobered up, as I was still drunk.
She kept her promise, though. Once I really did sober up, she let me go.
I begged everyone for a cigarette and finally, a nurse offered to come outside and have one with me. She was so sweet. She asked why I drink, why I do this to myself, because sober me, she said, seemed like a delightful and kind person. That brought tears to my eyes.
In the morning, my dad came to pick me up and I’d never been happier.
Once the alcohol left my system, I’d never felt so ashamed, sad, and alone.
But addiction’s vicious circle is relentless. I felt so low that I drank again because of that event and because I still drank, the guilt was so heavy that I stayed constantly drunk for almost three weeks. During those three weeks, my parents – who, by now I’m sure you can tell, are like my guardian angels – tried a different approach: “let’s focus on your physical health post-rendezvous with two cars.” So they took me to see a doctor at a physical rehabilitation center.
The Fact: Drinking can damage your physical nerves and leave you paralyzed.
The car accident damaged some of the nerves in my lumbar spine, which also run down my legs. Two weeks out of the hospital post-accident, from my calf down to my toes, if you touched my right leg with a feather, it felt like you were skinning me. This was the nerves “re-awakening” – a rather rude awakening, I’d say 🙄 – but the nerves themselves are still in the process of healing; they’re damaged.
To properly heal, I’ve needed physical therapy. I gathered my medical records from the accident and went for a consultation at one of the best clinics in the region. After reviewing, the doctor and I talked. I was very honest about my relationship with alcohol, to which he responded, almost in passing, “Well, your nerves leading to your legs are already damaged and since alcohol can leave you paralyzed, I’m glad sobriety is already on your radar.” He then just continued with his notes on my case but that statement was all I could think about. It was the icing on the shame-filled cake.
Paralyzed? A car hit me, leaving me unconscious, another ran over my body, but I can (thank God) still walk. But I might drink myself into a wheelchair? Am I dumb? The answer was (and still is) yes if I kept drinking and no if I stopped. So I chose the latter, Sugar.