It's almost 100 degrees, I live in Colorado, not what I had imagined. I also didn't think I would be drinking a Dr. Pepper because I can't have a beer.
  I'm home from my weekly "alcohol class," which in itself is a huge trigger for me. (I learned to use those psycho-terms from years of childhood therapy and the desire to be an (adolescent) psychologist.) Mediator: what's your trigger? Me: being here.
  I'm not an alcoholic and I'm not in denial just because I said that I'm not. I broke the law driving with too much alcohol in my blood. Period. I knew it was dangerous. I wanted to get "caught." I was in a stage of life where I gave up internally. On the outside, shit was straight. Inside, a tornado of chaos lived in me...every day. I didn't set out that evening trying to control the Tornado. It was all subconscious, now that I consider the event. I handed the keys over, took responsibility for my law breaking and sat there while the rookie cops got trained on how to "handle this situation." Cop: do you want to do a road side test? Me: Uhhhh....no, thank you. (I'm wearing thigh high "hooker" boots, not about to break a heel in front of eight, yes, eight cops.) Cop: You have to come to the station to take a Breathalyzer test, then. Me: OK. And off we went....In my blur of a memory, I sat in the back of the cop car, thinking about all the people who had sat there before me and how many did I know? Handcuffs are uncomfortable and if I yanked my wrist hard enough, would it bruise? Would anyone care? I stared out the window.
   Almost a year later, here I am. I had to talk about the Incident today in class. How? When? Where? Circumstances. I held my breath. I don't equate this class with drinking. I equate it with loss, change, a diagnoses of PTSD, a big pile of emotional shit. Alcohol is the last thing I'm thinking about. Mediator: Tell us about your DWAI. Me: Aug 28th, a month after my two children moved away from me (for the first time in their 13 and 10 year old lives,) I had an  18 year old who just gave birth, her 16 y/o sister tells me she is  pregnant, I get a call at work that my car will be repossessed soon, and my boyfriend died unexpectedly two days short of a month before the Incident.
    I was getting through this. I was saying it all out loud until I heard the group gasp at the events that proceeded the Incident. Just an FYI, a loud gasp doesn't help calm someone with PTSD who is trying to breath, think and not feel. Silence falls over the room. Yea, asshole who sits in the corner and feels sorry for himself because he drank alone and got busted because his dumbass drove to Burger King while craving a burger. What now, Ms. My-Life-Is-Crap-Because-I'm-Bored-And-Drink-With-My-Stupid-Friends, feel stupid for getting busted because you had a bet with your BFF about who could make better Jello-shots and had to go buy more liquor? I'm not saying I had an excuse for driving while drunk, I had an excuse to be drinking for damn sure, though.
    I've failed quite a few UA's, luckily I have a shield of blessings. My PO got fired because he didn't report me (or his other client's fuck-ups.) Therefore, after his career demise, I got called in and written up. Supervisor: Uhhh....you know you aren't allowed to drink, right? Me: Yea. Her: You have a lot of hot UA's. Me: Really? Weird. (Apparently all my plans to foil the system weren't working, I wasn't getting away with drinking after all, because my idiot PO didn't do his job.) Her: By law I have to write you up. If you fail again, you go to court and a judge could sentence you to 45 days in jail. Me: OK.
I sign. I look at all the hot UA's, there's a lot. At least two each month out of the four a month since I started. I realize I am getting a major "do-over" at this point. I'll quit fuckin around and I don't look good in orange  anyway.
   I haven't had a beer (or anything) since that meeting. It's been two weeks. I don't HAVE to drink. I like to drink, not a lot, just a enough to relax and maybe just not think. I made Dr.Pepper the beer step-in. I can do that psychologically. It's a good trick I learned somewhere in life. Substitution works with men, alcohol, money, friends, a lot of things. I also have a knack for cutting off emotionally from people and things fairly easily. I know these aren't healthy traits. I also know, by going through this Incident, I am sentenced to 42 hours of therapy, which sucks way worse than not being allowed to drink. Good news, 30 hours of therapy are needed for my degree. I enjoy killing two birds with one stone. It's efficient.