If you hang around the barbershop...

Imagine going to sleep, waking up and finding out you killed somebody. 
That's exactly what happened to me. 
Three years ago, I was drunk and fell asleep at the wheel. I'm not trying to make excuses.
But I never ever would have done such a thing on purpose. And if there were 
some way I could go back and change it, I would. 
In fact, I've been sober ever since.
Now I'm paying for my crime by being incarcerated two weeks a year for the 
next 10 years.
This blog follows my journey afterward, trying to put my life back together in 
between spending a week in jail at Christmas and at Father's Day each year.

I have this inner dialog debate going on lately concerning whether or not it is safe for me some three years after I got sober to dip my toes into the waters of temptation involving alcohol and drugs. 
Let me first say that I am strong in my sobriety. I do not miss drinking, and ninety-nine percent of the time, I don't even think about smoking weed.
It's that one percent that has me guarded and shut-in from the evils of the world most of the time.
Since the accident, I have purposely avoided situations where I might be tempted to drink or use.
That has kind of limited my options insofar as going out is concerned, at least that's how I see it.
I used to enjoy the nightlife, but there are things about it that scare me now.
I can't control what other people do. I can't control whether someone in a concert venue lights up a joint, triggering my addiction. I can't make someone who is not in recovery understand that if we go out and you are my ride, you cannot drink. You have to have a designated driver or a cab because that's just how I roll.

...

This inner conflict began when I thought about some of the recovery tools I have learned and how some of them don't seem to coincide.
Those of us who are trying to get clean and sober and stay that way are told early on that we have to change our playmates and playgrounds.
I have also heard old-timers sometimes say, "If you hang around the barbershop long enough, you're going to get a haircut."
Both of those statements would seem to suggest it's not OK to go to hang around people who drink or use drugs, and if you do so often enough, you're going to relapse. 
Here's where it gets confusing.
The literature in my recovery program, written in the 1930s, also says you can go anywhere and do anything you want after you get sober - even places where liquor is served - as long as you stay in fit spiritual condition.
So, I find myself trying to figure out which recovery credo I should follow.
It seem there is no clear-cut answer.

...

Judge Mark Fishburn took care of a part of the problem when he banned me from going to bars as a part of the plea deal I took in June 2011.
However, I am finding there are lots of other gray areas that aren't covered by the court order, so I occasionally find myself having to make a decision.
For instance, I am allowed to go to restaurants where alcohol is served.
And of course, there are sometimes gatherings at homes and private venues with family members or friends who are not in recovery. I can't tell these well-meaning folks not to have a drink or puff away on their drug of choice.
My program suggests I should talk to my sponsor whenever I have any question or issue.
There are also questions I can ask myself about the purpose of the event I am considering attending. 
-- Am I strong enough spiritually speaking?
-- Is the temptation worth the risk?
-- Is there a justifiable reason for my attendance?
-- Or am I simply romanticizing a lifestyle I once lived?

...

There was a situation last fall in which my 20-year, high-school reunion was being held in a bar on Second Avenue in Nashville.
Just my luck, right? 
Not wanting to take the chance of violating my probation, I took the high road and spoke with my probation officer, who communicated with the judge and let me know that he gave me permission to attend.
He told the probation officer to tell me, "Just don't drink."
I said, "OK."
I didn't drink that night, but it was a bit weird to say the least to see my former classmates boozing it up just like I used to do in my favorite East Nashville haunts.
After a couple hours of walking around seeing them clinking glasses, asking for refills and then spotting a lonely bottle of Chambord on the bar - my favorite liqueur - I slipped off to the bathroom to call a cab.
I had to get out of there. I found myself just not being able to relate to it anymore.

...

My life is so different now. I'm just in a different place.
It's not as if I am looking down at so-called normal drinkers or folks that just haven't admitted a drinking or using problem yet from some sort of high moral pedestal.
I remember well the days when I joined in the camaraderie of the bar scene, raising a glass to toast the latest gathering of the same eight to 10 people week after week, month after month, year after year.
I thought these nights of liquor-filled fun were more about friendship than a buzz.
That's how it started anyway. It seemed like innocent fun.
Gradually, things began to get wilder and wilder with sex, drugs and rock-n-roll front and center, not only in my life, but in the lives of pretty much everyone around me. 
I had briefly broken up with my longtime boyfriend, and that's when things started to spin a little out of control.
Three months passed, and I ran into him at a local business. Soon afterward, I contacted him and we had dinner, but things were complicated.
Let's just say he had moved on, too.
Somehow, we found our way back to each other, and I spent the next six months trying to mend fences.
I stayed away from the bars. I stayed away from my "friends."

...

One fateful night after six months of abstinence from alcohol, I decided I wanted to go out for "one more night" with them.
One more night cost me everything, and cost a man his life.
That's why I can't be nonchalant about where I go and what I do.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that those "friends" I went out to meet that night after a six-month, dry-drunk scattered like an atomic bomb fell into my lap when I was charged.
Only one stayed in contact, albeit infrequently. We have recently reconnected.
I don't harbor ill will toward anyone. It is what it is. They moved on, and so did I, along a different road.
I'm hoping they will look at my life as somewhat of an example, whether they continue to drink the way we used to, whether they think they have a problem at all.
Maybe one day, one or more of them will ask me about sobriety, will want it for themselves.
When and if they do, I am ready, willing and able to help.
I am willing to take them to a meeting or to church, to introduce them to my way of life, to remind them how good life can be without all that poison clouding a beautiful mind and a soul God created uniquely.

...


My sobriety and my relationship with Jesus Christ are the most important things in my life today.
So, I have to be thoughtful as I consider opportunities to venture out into the world again.
I cannot afford to mess up now.
It has taken me more than three years to have some semblance of normalcy in my life.
I have a job. I get to see my children, and I have quality of life. I am on a waiting list for an apartment, the first situation in which I will be independent again. 
I no longer need a drug-induced haze to enjoy a beautiful day, to face seemingly insurmountable obstacles or to escape emotional pain.
For that, I am grateful.


...

I wish I knew how to resolve my dilemma.
It's tough wanting to be a part of the world around you, but not trusting people and situations enough to really venture out beyond four familiar walls.
Sure, I've gone to functions at recovery clubhouses, most recently a karaoke event that I shut down with some of my friends in the wee hours of the morning.
I sang at least a dozen songs including those from artists including Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, En Vogue and Heart.
Those events don't happen often enough. I want more out of life.
I find myself going to work, going to meetings, going to church and going to sleep. The next day I wake up and do it all over again.
Yes, I'm staying sober, and that's the most important thing.
But I know I can do this better, meaning I know I can have a better quality life and not have to worry about being tempted to take a drink or light up a joint. 
But how? That's the question.
I 'won't stop 'til I get enough.' 
Stay tuned. 













...

A living amends

Imagine going to sleep, waking up and finding out you killed somebody. 
That's exactly what happened to me. 
Three years ago, I was drunk and fell asleep at the wheel. I'm not trying to make excuses.
But I never ever would have done such a thing on purpose. And if there were 
some way I could go back and change it, I would. 
In fact, I've been sober ever since.
Now I'm paying for my crime by being incarcerated two weeks a year for the 
next 10 years.
This blog follows my journey afterward, trying to put my life back together in 
between spending a week in jail at Christmas and at Father's Day each year.

Eddy McCreery is on  my mind everyday.
I think about him as I go about my daily life, working, going to recovery meetings, in my interactions with family and friends, and especially when I speak to groups about the accident.
I have been doing that a lot lately. I guess that's what I felt compelled to write again.
Today, I spoke to a support group for women whose children were taken by the Department of Children's Services because of mother's drug use.
On Feb. 10, I was at a local church speaking to about 50 youth and six adult workers.
The audience changes, but the message is always the same: this is what can happen to you if you drink and drive.
I tell them how I had everything in the world going for me.
I was married while I was going to college, and then divorced and became a single mother, who was holding down a job as a reporter first in Dickson and then in Gallatin.
My second year out of the gate as a professional journalist, I won second place in the Tennessee Press Association Contest for best news reporting for a series of stories I wrote about groundwater contamination, stemming from the illegal dumping of toxic chemicals in the Dickson County Landfill.
In Gallatin, I won two first-place awards at the TPA contest, one in 2007 for best news reporting, and one in 2009 for best single feature.
I had three wonderful children, a daughter and two sons, who lived with me two weeks out of every month and with their dad the same amount of time in a joint-custody arrangement.
Perry Baggs, my longtime boyfriend who died in July, was an accomplished musician, a founding member of Jason and The Scorchers, the pioneers of alternative country music, and more specifically, a music genre some call country punk or cowpunk.
The Americana Music Association awarded JATS a lifetime achievement award in best performance in 2008, the band has a display at the Country Music Hall of Fame, and more than three decades of critical acclaim from around the world. 
I was living a dream life.

...

But somewhere down deep, I was unhappy and it manifested in self-destructive ways.
I smoked marijuana daily for 18 years. I had started drinking at the age of 15, and although alcohol wasn't my drug of choice, it was the one that ultimately took all my choices away.
I was on prescription Xanax, and I only abused it one time, the night I had the accident which ended Eddy McCreery's life.
My decision to mix Xanax and alcohol cost a man his life, and a family a husband, father, brother and uncle.
That's something I can never truly make right, but I am trying, in my own way, to do what I can to make what my program of recovery refers to as a living amends to the McCreery family.
This entails living a sober life, a life that is accountable to a sponsor and to others in recovery and ultimately to my higher power, who I call God.
It involves humbling myself every time I tell my story to a different group, every time I play the WSMV footage of my arrest and three subsequent stories and the audio of the 911 call that came in shortly after the accident occurred.
I have seen and heard those recordings countless times now, but it still feels like someone is stabbing me in the heart every time I realize the pain I caused the McCreery family and my own family, a wound that will never truly heal.

...

I liken what I did to a tornado that tore two families apart. The McCreerys lost someone they loved forever, or until they meet him in heaven, if you believe as I do.
Mine suffered as three families were forced to live under one roof, and shove two extra households of furniture in two barn buildings, an attic and a basement.
My children had to move to White House and be separated from their mother for the majority of the last three years. I have only been able to see them every other weekend during that time. I have very few pictures. I can't be in their lives daily to be a parent. It's impossible to be a momma over the phone, but I do my best.
I try to cherish the time I do have with them and not dwell on their absence, but on some nights the separation anxiety I feel, coupled with the sometimes debilitating grief I experience over Perry's death, makes it nearly impossible to be positive.
Then, there's the jail time.
I know many will say 'it could be a lot worse.'
Yes. I know that.
But it doesn't make the time I spend there any easier, or make it go by any faster.
Every day you spend in lockup feels like a week. Weeks feel like months, and months feel like years.
The state also revoked my driver's license, and I although I have a job, I am extremely underemployed.

I am not trying to elicit sympathy. I simply want the reader to know my consequences extend way beyond 10 years of probation and two weeks of incarceration a year.
The time I have lost with my children alone is severe punishment for my crimes. It's not their fault, but they are suffering because of my actions.
These consequences will not end today or tomorrow. Some will last 8 more years. Some will last a lifetime.

...

Although, I can easily get down thinking about the ramifications of my actions, I can just as easily feel inspired about the work I am doing to spread the message in and around the Nashville area.
That's what gets me through the hard times.
I am court-ordered to speak twice a year, on Mr. McCreery's birthday, Feb. 10, and on the anniversary of the accident, Oct. 22, but I do it as often as possible.
I believe that God can work through me to make a difference.
So, when I think about the mission, if you will, nothing else matters.
I am inspired when I hear mothers come to me and tell me how their teenage sons kicked a drug habit after hearing my speech.
I know I must be doing something right.
God is working through me to make all of this possible.
Without his blessing, without the Holy Spirit leading, guiding and directing my words and my path, there can be no stories like that one to be told.


...

I recently read the book of Jonah in the Bible.
He was the one who ran from the Lord, and ended up being thrown into the sea and swallowed into the belly of a big fish for his disobedience.
I could relate to the rebellion, and the ultimate humility that took place in that man of God's heart.
For it is only through our humility and our willingness to turn our will and lives over to a higher power that we will be happy, joyous and free. Self sacrifice and service to others also play a vital role in that transformation.
I don't make this stuff up. I have lived it.
You would be amazed at the good things that will happen if you are willing to let the God of your understanding take the wheel.
So, I guess what I am trying to say here is that I have realized I am not in charge of my own destiny.
God is.
And he can be in charge of yours, too, if you let him.


...

If you take nothing else away from this blog, please remember what happened to Eddie McCreery, what happened to me, what happened to my children, Kristen, Ian and Kavanaugh, and think about your loved ones.
Are you willing to lay your addictions, your habits and hangups down, and seek God's help?
All it takes is this simple prayer: "God help me."
Then, take action.
Go to inpatient or outpatient rehab, if you can. Find recovery at a local NA or AA clubhouse.
Get a sponsor. Work a program, and be accountable for your actions.
Ask for God to lead, guide and direct your paths.
He will never leave you or forsake you.
Amen.