12.
Back in October, the morning after I’d relapsed in Club Rock Za, I spent much of the morning looking for my car. I tried to retrace my steps from the night before.
After Sasha pressed her mouth to mine, letting the tequila flow from her mouth to mine, I went straight to the ATM machine. I was in "fuck-it" mode; I knew it and I wanted it. Really, I told myself - and it was true - I’d not been sober as long as I’d continued to drink cough syrup. The future, my plans, consequences...It wasn’t that they didn’t matter, they just didn’t exist.
I couldn’t remember how many times I hit the ATM. I didn’t remember leaving the bar, but I had a vague memory of going over to Daiei and picking up a bottle of vodka. After waking up on the side of the road, I headed back the several blocks to the Japanese store to look for my car.
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I tried to drink in a controlled way for a couple of weeks after my relapse at Club Rock Za. I had no income and my funds were limited. I made fliers advertising my services as a tutor and posted them in coffee shops and community bulletin boards. I had the idea that I could work as a tutor part time and start a practice as an advocate for children with disabilities. Maybe I would get a part time job to provide a steady stream of income while I built my business.
After an initial flurry of activity, printing up and posting the fliers, I continued my drinking while I waited for the calls from frustrated parents to come in. I did get a call from one mother who wanted me to help with her teenage sons math and English homework. I managed to slow down my drinking for several hours before we met at a coffee shop in Kailua.
I showered and thoroughly brushed my teeth immediately before our meeting. I was feeling a bit queasy as I sat down with the single mother who was having trouble getting her son to do his homework. I don’t know if she detected alcohol on me, or sensed something wrong with me, but though she said she would call me once she talked to her son, I never heard back from her after our meeting.
Within week or so of more heavy drinking, and no effort to find income, I began to see my money run out and the hopelessness of my situation. To stretch my funds, I began to shoplift bottles of liquor from several different grocery stores. I knew this couldn’t continue, but I couldn’t stop; I didn’t want to face another painful detoxification process.
Finally, one morning in mid-November, I found myself feeling too ill to go out to get more liquor. I still had several beers and a little vodka. I weaned myself with the little alcohol I had, spending endless miserable hours in bed with the TV on. In a couple of days I felt well enough to go to an twelve step meeting. It was an early morning meeting that I’d been to before. The group met on the beach. As usual, I stayed to myself, arriving a little late and leaving the circle before the end of the meeting to avoid interacting with anyone.
I spent the next few days going to this and other meetings. I spent my days at the beach thinking about what I would do with myself. I didn’t want to go back to my family on the mainland, I had no income and hadn’t paid my rent for over 6 months. The house in Maunawili belonged to my close friend from law school, Julia, who moved to the mainland after she graduated. She’d cut me a lot of slack, but I couldn’t continue to live there.
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