Back in my younger days when I was a functionally dysfunctional alcoholic, going to my outpatient treatment to avoid jail time at the court’s discretion, our counselor always asked us how we were.
Each and everyone of us always told that counselor, “we’re okay.” Or, actually, “I’m okay. It was of course a lie that I’m sure that counselor probably knew all too well. The truth for all of us would have meant jail time and having to start this program all over again.
It was a joke because none of us believed we had a problem. We had our friends sign our forms that we attended AA meetings, mostly at our favorite watering holes. I’m sure now isn’t any different. We get arrested opt for deferred prosecution and go through the two year program gambling that no one would notice.
I got away with it the first time around. The last time, not so much when I was arrested in 97 for DUI and told everyone I was being framed by the cops, went to court and a jury found me guilty. I spent a month in jail, and still I didn’t really learn my lesson. If I had to actually go to another counseling, which the judge did order me to perform along with AA meetings, I’m sure I would have told everyone that I was okay, lying about how sober I was and enjoying my life immensely.
The stroke I suffered in 2002 was the wakeup call I needed to put my entire life into clearer focus. I wasn’t okay. I was broken and it took a young man wearing a hoodie at the casino I work at that had that message clearly inscribed boldly on that sweatshirt to see for myself how far I’ve come since that first day I went to my first counseling session over thirty years ago.
Jerry Schellhammer 