March Blog 2023
Here's a little untold information about the liquor store story from my book, BOX OF SHAME. The irony blows my mind!
I was in total desperation. Desperate to fit in, as most teens do, but also desperate to stay in my oblivious drunken state. The coast was clear and it was show time. Most people who know me, would never believe this story. I am the quiet one, pleasant, overall, a good person. Alcohol changes people. Well, the trauma changes us, alcohol is the band aide and it works for awhile. It hides the pain and makes us brave. I found bravery that night, even though I was trembling inside.
The glistening bottles of wine and Champaign called my name through the window. Row after row of liquid gold was overpowering what I knew was right from wrong. My drinking crew relied on me to keep my end of the bargain; I was the one with a car. My dad gave it to me for school and work. Thank goodness he never found out what I had used it for.
The following is a glimpse of that night, as it is described in my book, BOX OF SHAME:
“We parked by the front door, which had only one glass door and two windows. I looked around the parking lot and saw the fog rising, which made the street lights a little dimmer. My anxiety escalated, I tried to take some slow, deep breaths. My neck muscles tensed up. I was hesitating as thoughts of ending in the slammer crossed my mind. I could barely move, but Trish and Ian were counting on me not to bail out now. I took a quick look down the street. “All clear.” It was now or never.
“We should take our socks off and put them on our hands for protection,” suggested Trish, as we had planned to punch the glass door.
“Good idea,” I said. Before exiting the car, we took off our socks and put them on our hands. The thick glass made it impossible to break through with our fists. We were sloppy thieves and only produced a lot of noise.
“Stand back!” Ian said. He kicked at the door and glass shattered to the ground.
We all climbed in, crunching the broken glass beneath our shoes. We were in the store. I had access to shelf after shelf of glorious liquor! I couldn’t help but have a slight grin of satisfaction, while I grabbed the biggest bottle of tequila I could find, along with some wine. We had to move fast; a passing patrol car would eventually drive by. The others filled their arms, and we were out in a flash. My beating heart hammered to the rhythm of hummingbird wings, but my driving had to appear as if we were out for a Sunday afternoon cruise to distract any suspicious eyes. The burglary was both thrilling and terrifying. Back at the house, we toasted on our successful raid.”
The shame was deep. I kept this secret from everyone until recently. I’d mostly forgotten about it until a few years ago. Life really works mysteriously sometimes.
I became a nurse and my niece suggested I apply for a job at an addiction center for drug addicts. I didn’t have personal experience with heroin or opiates, but the insanity and despair of an addicted mind, is all the same. I knew I had to go for it, even though I had no experience in the clinical sense. I thought maybe I could have a connection with hurting people. My time there gave me experience in many areas of nursing, and I saw the pain and joy of overcoming addiction.
Every time I drove to work, I parked my car and entered the building to a place I knew long ago. Decades had passed when I was here, hurting from addiction, desperate to ease my pain. No one knew I’d been here before destroying property, stealing bottles of tequila at this very location that had now become a clinic to treat addicts. The memories flooded my mind and I thought I must've been brought here for a reason. Could it be to immerse myself into the field of addiction? As it turned out, that was not the case. A year later, the seed of sharing an immensely personal story of my shame and secrets began.... BOX OF SHAME: A Memoir of Addiction, Survival, and Forgiveness was born.
Oh the irony!
You'll find BOX OF SHAME, on Amazon. It's available in paperback, hardcover and E-book.
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