"Ashes"

“Ashes”

The slam of the thick steel door echoed loudly behind me at the Hardin County Detention Center. I was free. Well, physically that is. The world I stepped into had not freed from me the debt I owed. Basically, I had been freed from physical captivity, but the prison in my mind was a maximum security facility. Nothing and no one was getting out from that place. I walked down the hallway and into the foyer. As I began to draw out what money I had left from the ATM, I heard a familiar voice behind me. I turned around and there was Momma. I hugged her tighter than I had in a long time. I just remember telling her I was sorry. I didn’t know what else to say.

When we left the jail and started down the road, the decision was made to try to go by the tow yard and see if I could at least get my personal items out of my truck. Upon our arrival, I was notified of a nifty little Kentucky law requiring the registered owner of the vehicle to show up in person to authorize entry into the vehicle. The truck was not in my name. It was in my Ex’s name and I wasn’t sure she was ever going to come. I knew it was just stuff, but it was all I had. The trip up was only supposed to be a quick visit that I had turned into a staycation. Inside that truck, I had my clothes, a suitcase, CB radio, CD Collection, a Black Powder Rifle, and other odds and ends. Looking back, I’m grateful I chose to keep my Trooper School ring on when I was arrested by the KSP 10 days earlier. Long story short, I never saw that truck or any of my personal items again.

Within a few hours of getting back to my Mother’s apartment, I was contacted by a couple of people asking if I was okay. That was a strong word looking back and a pretty vague descriptive word. All I wanted to know was if I got to go home or had that bridge burned?  It wasn’t long before I spoke with a friend that passed along the news that I was afraid of. In third party format, I was told that I didn’t have a home to go back to. This friend said that he had spoken to my ex and that indeed she was finished with me. True to the cycle of insanity, I returned to what “worked”. All I could process was how I could get absolutely obliterated. After 3 DUI’s, 11 total nights in jail, seeing my career, my marriage, my life, my dreams, burn to ground because of my drinking and the consequences of my poor decision making while out there drinking, I still just wanted to pick up another bottle.

Within a few minutes, I had a cold beer popped open and I was on my way again. I do remember not slugging down bottles one after the other. I knew I was going to speak to my ex that evening and I didn’t want her to think I was drinking. So, part of me wanted to try to put on the same show that hadn’t been working and part of me said “screw it” at that very moment in order to dull and numb the pain. That evening, she called. The confirmation came. The truth. The consequences. The exile status.

“I can’t be married to you right now.” I remember those words clearly. They were followed by “God’s got me. He’s gonna take of me.” As if God wasn't going to do that for me. Then again, I didn't feel worthy of being taken care of either. During the course of the conversation, I learned that I truly didn’t have a home to go back to. All of my stuff was in a storage building, locked up. My ex was with her Mom and she wasn’t coming. She had finally drawn her line. I do remember her making reference to the fact that I had a “new problem.” Her family now knew of the choices I was making. All I could muster up when that statement was made was “I’m not a monster.” There was a hesitation in her voice, followed by “Well….”

Thing is, as much as I wanted to pretend I didn’t, I believed it too. I want to be clear about something here so there is no misconception in some of the statements I just made. I know and I do believe today, that as Christians, we are called to forgive others just as Christ forgave us for our Sins before we even made them. That’s why he sacrificed himself as God’s son. I do not believe however that God calls us to continue to place ourselves in the path of a destructive Tornado when we’ve seen it’s damage before. What do you do if you receive notification of a Tornado watch or evening a warning? You take cover, you use caution, you take every measure necessary to protect yourself from the incoming damage. Truth is; I was toxic, I was destructive and I had caused a lot of damage. My ex had every right to back away. I know that today. But then, that’s not where my Alcoholic thinking went. What I saw was different. I did blame myself. I did agree, but I had no clue how to stop it.

I was stranded. Exiled. I had no home, no job, no wife, no license, no truck, no stability and no one wanted me around anymore. All I had was where I was and what I was wearing. Everything else I knew, lay in Ashes. I had single handedly destroyed and burned everything and everyone I had touched.

Many people would’ve chosen that very moment to turn to help. Whether that be in patient or outpatient treatment, a phone call to a pastor, a scream for help, anything. No, not me. I didn’t deserve that. Here is where all the anger, all the pain, all the finger pointing I had done to other’s in my life began to point back at me. All those emotions and thoughts that were jumbled up in my mind began to backfire at me. I was at fault for all this. I was responsible for the damage. I began to become very angry at myself but God was working and he was about to start getting extremely obvious in his messages to me. The other side of the argument for me was control. Even after the events unfolded like they did, I wanted to keep trying to control what was happening in my life. I was just grasping at straws in retrospect.

I continued to drink. The pain was intense and I didn’t want to feel it or face it. It was obvious I was stuck at Mom’s for a while at least. So, I continued to do what worked. I say that lightly. For the next few days, I hung out with Mom, drank and I tried to make sense of what I had done. My mind floated back to the statement Colonel McDonough had made to me at GSP HQ a couple weeks prior. “Sometimes God Whispers and Sometimes God Yells.” God had yelled at me loudly, multiple times, and in different ways. I hadn’t listened and then had stopped the show. I felt so stupid, so low, kind of like garbage that had taken itself out.

I grew up in Church and received Christ into my heart at an early age. My belief in the Lord never waivered but until now, I never allowed him to run the show. I didn’t think that was his job I suppose. I knew though, that I needed to be somewhere in Church that following Sunday morning. I had passed a larger church pretty close to Mom’s place while riding into town with a friend of hers a couple days after leaving the jail. I chose to try it out Sunday Morning. It was Severns Valley Baptist Church. From the outside, the size reminded me of where I had been going in Milledgeville. Inviting, but big enough that maybe no one would see the baggage I was walking in with.

Meanwhile, I made contact with my attorney’s in Georgia to see where they stood with me. I expected them to drop me because I taken their kindness and threw into the burning pit with everyone else. To my surprise, they didn’t. I am still so grateful for the Walker Firm today. I made an appointment in an agency called KAPS. They are an agency that monitors those sentenced with probation and court ordered treatment. I wasn’t on probation yet, but part of my sentencing was to attend the DUI Victim’s Impact Panel and also complete the 20 Hour DUI Risk Reduction Course. I went to that meeting and got set up. I didn’t know how long I was going to be in Kentucky, but I at least had to set it up. KAPS told me about an option for the 20 Hour course that was just around the corner on the downtown ETown Square. They were Hub City Services. I will never forget walking through that door for the first time.

I walked in, signed my name and sat down. I could not believe that I was having to sign up for a DUI Risk Reduction Course. Just a month prior I was arresting drunk drivers for a living. It was then I met Mrs. Laura. Mrs. Laura and her family own the business there and they’ve been providing treatment services there for quite some time. I sat down in front of her and began the intake process. I told her about my story, all the way down to how my Mamaw had washed my wallet. I mentioned how the Georgia State Seal had been washed away and how my Georgia ID had been disintegrated. She looked at me and said “Tyler, someone’s trying to give you a fresh start.” I knew she was right, even then. But I didn’t want a fresh start. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be wanted by the people I already knew. I wanted to return to life as I knew it. But that wasn’t going to happen. The staff at hub city will always have a special place in my heart. Their kindness, especially over the course of the first couple of months in Etown was the first example of God beginning to surround me with people that knew how to love me when I didn’t’ know how to love myself. I completed the intake process, evaluation and got scheduled for those classes as well as several group sessions they wanted me to take. I was actually honest in my eval and the counselor saw fit that I needed more than just the risk reduction course point me in the right direction. She too, was right.

That next Sunday Morning, I stayed true to my intention to go to Church. I knew I needed to be there. At that time, God was the only one that could intercede in what was happening in my life even though I wasn’t ready to give up the control I thought I had. When I walked in, I was welcomed by a greeter and given a visitor’s packet. I took a seat in the large auditorium in a mostly empty row of chairs. It really did have the same feel I was used to. I opened the visitors packet and there, in the very front of the packet was a flier for a program called “Celebrate Recovery.” I read the flier and I knew immediately that there was a reason that God had brought me to that specific church that morning. The flier mentioned that the program was a national program that focused around Christ Centered Recovery for everyone dealing with life hurts, hang ups and habits.” I had never heard of this program before, but I instantaneously knew I was supposed to go the next night. I sat through the sermon, (I can still tell ya what it was about).  At the end of the service, as I prepared to leave, a lady who I’m sure I wouldn’t recognize today tapped me on the shoulder. I was dismayed when she asked me “are you new? I’ve never seen you before.” I was in a room with 300 other people. My vistors packet wasn’t visible, how did she know? We spoke briefly and parted ways. Before I left, I made the decision to catch the Pastor before I left. Pastor Bill was very kind, listened to me story, prayed with me and hooked me up with one of the leaders for Celebrate Recovery. Today, I know that morning was a divine appointment set for me by God. It became a lot more obvious as time went on, but that one morning, that one decision to go to Severns Valley, set so many other events in motion. There is a reason I don’t believe in coincidence anymore.

The next night, I took a taxi back to Severns Valley. I do remember feeling nervous walking in there. I knew there was a strong likelihood that I would have to share what I was going through. I wasn’t sure if I could do that. I was so ashamed. So angry at myself. Again, I was met with love and open arms. I went through worship and went to the newcomers course. This was the first time I had ever heard the term Recovery and what it meant. Growing up with an addict Mother along with working a ton of DUI Enforcement as a Trooper, I had never seen or heard this side of the things. The subject matter made sense and clicked with me. After that night, I was clear to pick one of the small groups to begin attending after the first hour of worship and testimony time. I do recall being excited to get back to CR the next week. One of the groups to choose from was Alcohol and Substance abuse. Even at this point, I was too afraid to step into that room and deal with my choices regarding Alcohol head on. Instead I chose an easier, softer group known as the hurts, habits and hang ups group. As I began attending CR week after week, I was surrounded with people that did learn some of the harder parts of my story. They loved me, cared for me, and began to support me. Again, It was God surrounding me with people who knew how to love me when I didn’t know how to love myself. In my small group, I was able to talk about what I was going through but I was only cheating myself. I wasn’t truly addressing the Alcohol. It was a sub topic under everything else. I couldn’t accept the fact that if I wanted to clear up all the other decisions, dealing with the Alcohol, had to come first. I wasn’t ready to admit I was an Alcoholic yet, but it was coming.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned in to a month. Even though I was going to church on Sundays and CR on Monday nights, I was still drinking. I had way too much idle time in isolation for own good. Then again, that’s what I always strived for. I had finally gotten my wish. Everyone was finally leaving me alone so I could drink. That bedroom at my Mother’s became my own person mental prison cell. Night after night, I would drink till I passed out or cried myself to sleep. Instead of focusing on how to better my life, I fix what was broken, I concentrated on how terrible of a person I was. This is a common theme among most active Alcoholics.  My ex stayed true to her word. She did try to talk with me for a while after I ended up in Etown but eventually she drew the line when she realized I wasn’t going to be honest about my mistakes. I was still too afraid of the consequences of the truth. How much worse could it get? I noticed that across social media, several people that were close to me began talking negative about me in a pretty open manner. Occasionally I would post a bible verse that hit me pretty hard. That was met with accusations of what a hypocrite I was. I wound up removing a lot of people from my friends list that either talked about me, ignored me at that point or I spoken to in quite a while. Even doing that, I remember feeling that they were right. Who was I to post anything biblical. My life was anything but biblical. Maybe it was better I just stayed silent.

I completed the DUI Risk Reduction Course in late September/ early October along with the group sessions. I enjoyed those. I know it sounds strange, but the information was solid, plus those groups gave me somewhere to be and to be busy. I walked into downtown Etown from where Mom lived on many occasions. The exercise was good and it gave me time to process and pray. I met several people that were on similar roads as I. Some of those folks were multiple DUI or Alcohol related offenders too. On that first 2 mile walk into town, I remember hearing a song come on I-Heart Radio. I had never heard it before but I knew it was God talking to me when I heard it. Bottom of Form

You brought me this far
So why would I question you now
You have provided so why would I start to doubt
I've never been stranded, abandoned or left here to fight alone
So I'm giving you control

I lift my life, lift my life up
I give it all in surrender
I lift my heart, lift my heart up
You can have it forever
All my dreams, all my plans
Lord I leave it in your hands
I lift my life, lift my life up

Have your way in me

Unspoken-Lift My Life Up

I knew those words for me. Come to find out, the lead singer is a Recovering Addict. They’ve got several songs that I was able to identify with.

Even though I was hearing God speak to me. I knew he was setting me up to meet people, be places, feel truly loved, I couldn’t stop drinking. I couldn’t stop trying to numb the pain. I couldn’t stop wishing I could just erase so many things and go home. A lot of that cycle continued on for a while.

On one of the visits to Hub City for a session, one of the counselors pulled me aside and asked me if I had ever considered going to AA? The question caught me off guard. Truthfully the answer was yes. I could recall sitting on my couch, drunk, in the middle of the night, at least a year prior, knowing I had a problem. I can remember looking up AA meetings in Milledgeville, knowing I needed to talk to someone, but not being able to move past my fear, pride and control to go. She offered to get me the name of someone to look to, location of the meeting and time. I accepted the information and decided to go. I knew it was going to be hard, but I knew it was time. It was past time. I should’ve already been in those rooms. I didn’t truly what it meant to be an Alcoholic. But, I wasn’t going to lose anything at this point. That night, I got back to Momma’s and told her about the information I had gotten. To my surprise, she offered to go with me. She was familiar with the place and the people from her own journey. The meeting was scheduled for the next Wednesday night.

It was an unforgettable feeling walking into my first real meeting. I was going to CR but this was addressing specifically Alcohol. Several people recognized Momma and welcomed her back. Even I knew it had been a long time since she had been there. I guess I expected sadness and a lot of depression in a lot of these meetings. Sure, there was some of that but these people were happy, laughing, joking. I was unexpected. Just before the meeting started, Mom and I walked in and sat down. Momma had always been my biggest supporter, even when I was wrong. I never imagined being in a recovery meeting with her in this fashion. The meeting started and it wasn’t just a few minutes before I began hearing some familiar scenarios I could relate to. I listened, and it eventually came my turn to share. As I began to speak, I know my voice cracked. The lump in my throat seemed impassable. “Hi my name is Tyler and I am an Alcoholic.”

They were the words I never thought I’d utter, but they were out. Years worth of denial no longer an option.I remember I shared some of my story and I kept using the words “lose” or “lost”. I was heartbroken and angry at myself. I’m sure that came across clearly. One of the old timers spoke up and said, “Man, you gotta quit saying you “lost” anything. You didn’t “lose” anything, you “gave it away.” That was deep. It was probably the first time I heard a statement that drastically altered my perception of where I was in life. He was right. That night became the first of a lot of meetings, a massive intake of information and the continuation of God surrounding me with People that knew how to love me when I didn’t know how to love myself and even when I didn’t think I deserved any love, from anybody.

I’ll share more in “Revelation”

Well I ain't had nothin' to drink
I knew that's probably what you'd think
If I'd drop by this time of night
Remember way back when
I promised you I'd drop in
At one of those meetings down at the "Y"

They started talking' about steps you take
Mistakes you make the hearts you break
And the price you pay
I almost walked away

You could hear a pin drop
When this old man
Stood up and said I'm gonna say it again
Like I do every week
For those who don't know me

It's the simple things in life
Like the kids at home and a loving' wife
That you miss the most, when you lose control
And everything you love starts to disappear
The devil takes your hand and says no fear
Have another shot, just one more beer
Yeah I've been there
That's why I'm here

This old boy stood up in the isle
Said he'd been living' a life of denial
Then he cried, as he talked about wasted years
I couldn't believe what I heard
It was my life word for word
And all of the sudden, it was clear


I know for us it may be too late
But it would mean the world to me
If you were there when I stand to say

It's the simple things in life
Like the kids at home and a loving' wife
That you miss the most, when you lose control
And everything you love starts to disappear
The devil takes your hand and says no fear
Have another shot, just one more beer
Yeah I've been there
That's why I'm here

“That’s Why I’m Here”- Kenny Chesney

"Guilty As Charged" Part III

Guilty As Charged Part III

February 19th, 2017

The Georgia Department Of Driver’s Services wasn’t very busy that Friday morning. I was in and out in about 15 minutes with a new paper copy of my State I.D. After the arrest for the second DUI, the officer had taken the hard copy of my license in accordance with the Georgia Administrative License Suspension Program. Of anyone, I was familiar with that program. I had initiated the same process at least a hundred times prior as a Trooper. I left the DDS facility, had lunch with my ex wife and pointed that white in color Dodge Ram Pickup northbound on I-75 towards London Kentucky. It was Friday, August 30^th. 2013. Although I didn’t mean to, I left exactly 9 years to do the day that I moved to Georgia from Kentucky. I was headed to Kentucky for the weekend. The plan was to return Sunday Afternoon.

I felt I needed the 3 days to hit the reset button. To clear my mind. To get away from the pointing fingers, the media, the pressure, the guilt, the shame, the truth. I didn’t see it this way at the time but I was running. Running away from the mess I had created. The chaos my drinking had brought. The Alcoholic decision making that was terrorizing those closest to me. Just a few days prior I had wound up at the State Patrol Post, drunk, and gotten on the radio in my old patrol car and gone 10-7 on the radio. I can only imagine the panic of my old radio operator’s as they picked up the phone to start making phone calls to make sure I hadn’t shot myself. Thankfully I had people that cared enough about me to get me home and make sure I was safe. The train was continuing to derail and I wasn’t slowing down power.

When I left town, I knew I was going to Kentucky to get away. I knew I was going home to escape. I knew I was going home to drink. The bottle was old faithful. It was all I had left to numb the pain of reality. But I was still in control. I was going to be okay. Just let me have this weekend and I’ll tackle life on Monday.

It was labor day weekend. I had plenty of time in that 400 mile journey north to think. I remember some strange things about that trip up. I remember listening to a lot of country. George Strait, Garth Brooks. I remember finally getting the CD Player in that truck to work right! I’d owned that pickup a year or more and finally figured it out. I spoke to a couple of people about ideas for the future for work. I was trying to put on a good show to make people think I was trying to make better choices. I knew when I got to London, I would have to explain to my grandparents that I wasn’t with the State anymore. How was I supposed to do that? They had made the trip down to Forsyth over 4 years prior for my Trooper School Graduation. Papaw was the first passenger in my patrol car when I left Trooper School. I still remember that ride. I never wanted to do anything but make them proud. I had shattered that. I didn’t know what I was going to say when I got there, but I rode on.

“I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here it's like I'm someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I'll leave.
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me.”

“The House That Built Me”-Miranda Lambert

That evening, I pulled up at the house I grew up in about 6:30. I stepped in and hugged them both tighter than I probably had in a long time. They really didn’t know why, but I did. After we spoke for a little while, I drove down to Corbin. Corbin had just gone “wet” concerning Alcohol sales. I bought an 18 pack of beer and drove back to my Grandparents. As far as I know, Alcohol never entered that house on a regular basis. That night, I sat in the basement and I drank and drank a lot. I went as far into that place where I didn’t have to feel the depression, anger, self loathing and fear as I did when I was “sober”. But, as usual in the cycle of insanity, drinking like that did nothing but intensify the emotions I just listed.

When I awoke the next morning, my head was pounding for the obvious reasons. I got up, stirred around and got my things together. The evening before, as normal, my Mamaw washed my clothes for me. This is just something she did on a regular basis when I came home to visit. When I got up to get ready to head over to Elizabethtown to see Momma for the night, I discovered Mamaw had washed my wallet. The “ironic” thing was that it was my State Patrol Wallet. The same one that housed my Badge, State ID, etc. The Same one that my former Corporal had removed those items from after the Patrol Car Crash. When I examined the wallet, everything seemed to be intact except for 2 distinct items. The wash had erased the State Seal off the front of the wallet AND my brand new Georgia I.D. had been disintegrated. I noted the occurrence and assumed I would run back by DDS when I got back into town.

I left London Saturday afternoon to head over to Etown. A few miles north of London, I got a text from my former Sergeant who was just checking on me. I don’t remember it word for word, but I do remember her foretelling the future. She said “if you don’t tackle your demons, you’re not going to make it. Just don’t drink”. I couldn’t think about not drinking. Besides, drinking wasn’t the problem. I just needed to control it better. Famous last words.

I was headed over to E-town to see my Mom for the night. My plan was to stay Saturday night in Etown and headed back home the next day. Mom had been her apartment for about 6 months. Momma had a story of her own. 30 + years in addiction. Sober for 2 or so. The only reason we had anyone here in Etown was because she came to a treatment facility here in 2011. She finished the qualifications to complete that program in early 2013 and got her own apartment. Momma’s demons were primarily not related to Alcohol and I knew she had been drinking some since she left. I headed up I-75 out of London through Lexington and across the Bluegrass Parkway. I never dreamed it would be the last time I would cross that parkway on my own for a long time.

I arrived in E-town Saturday Afternoon. After a few minutes catching up with Mom, telling her about the last couple of weeks and how life was falling apart. It wasn’t long before, you guessed it, it was time to go buy some Alcohol. We got back to the Apartment and cracked open the first one. The evening went fairly well. Pretty calm and uneventful. I took a call from my ex wife, lied to her about not drinking and told her I would be home the next day.

That night, I went to bed about 11:00. Last thing I wanted to try to drive home feeling hung over, although I knew it wouldn’t be the first time I would’ve done that. That night unfolded rapidly. I wound up waking back up to my then step sister at the house after Mom called her in panic. The reason isn’t important now, but I was invited to her place for a party she was having. I made the choice to go. That night, I ended up at a house in the country, in a county I wasn’t familiar with, with people I didn’t know. Well, for this active Alcoholic, it was the perfect setup. To say I drunk that night is understatement. I got hammered. Plastered. Jacked-up. However you wanna word it. I didn’t drive out there. I didn’t drive back. About 4:00 that next morning she brought me back to Mom’s.

I don’t remember much about what happened next. I don’t remember leaving my Mom’s. I don’t remember riding though E-town. I don’t remember getting on I-65. I vaguely remember missing the ramp for the Bluegrass Parkway. The next thing I remember is coming to about 2 miles south of E-town while traveling in the left lane on I-65. As I “snapped” back into consciousness, I left the roadway, traveled across the left shoulder and into the median of I-65. I have told many people when I’ve shared my testimony that I have no doubt that THIS is where God said, “It’s my turn” and took control. My truck vaulted into the median, struck the median hard enough that I remember the impact, spun counter clockwise and came to an uncontrolled rest facing back north towards Elizabethtown. There was an initial pause when the truck came to rest. I didn’t even know if I should or could move. No one stopped. Maybe no one saw me spin out? I recall trying to hit the gas and just hearing the engine rev loudly. I was stuck. I considered my options, but inside my walls were crumbling. I was finished. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t keep fighting the same fight. It was almost like raising the symbolic white flag. I’ve had several people ask me why I didn’t just step out and start walking. I had 2 pending DUI’s. Why in the world would I call 911 on my self? Well, the Trooper in me didn’t want to start walking. It would’ve been leaving the scene of an accident. So, I stepped out, took a look at my truck which was OBVIOUSLY stuck. The mental image of the headlight hanging from the headlight housing still sticks in my mind today. Reluctantly I picked up my phone and called 911. Dispatch answered. I gave them my name and my where I was. The County Operator transferred me to the Kentucky State Police in E-town. The operator advised me he had a Trooper in the area and that he would be to me in a few minutes. I hung up the phone and waited. I knew what was about to happen. I was going to jail, again, for dui, for the third time in three weeks.

A few minutes later, I saw the blue lights of that patrol car activate and come to a stop above me on the Northbound side. The Trooper stepped out of his patrol car, peered over the guard rail and said “Looks like your gonna need a wrecker!”. I just said, “yes sir”. He stepped over the guard rail and headed me way. “Here we go”  I thought. Sure enough he got within a couple feet of me and in that cool September morning, he detected what any reasonably trained Trooper would. “How much you had to drink man!?” he quipped. I just looked down in silence. I gave him no problem. Actually, I do remember not moving at all in between the time that he pulled up and when the silver bracelets went on. He asked me to submit to field sobriety. I refused. I recall thinking “what’s the point?’. He pulled out his PBT from the patrol. I said “Sir, I’m not being disrespectful but I’m not going to do that either.”. I could tell I had irritated him with my refusal.

I was handcuffed and placed in the back of the patrol car. The KSP. I had grown up admiring these guys. I never thought in my worst nightmare that I would ever end up being arrested period, let alone by a Kentucky Trooper. As I sat in the back of that patrol car, I remember thinking how similar the process was. He advised his dispatch he had one in custody. He called a tow truck and inventoried the vehicle. As we waited, he found my ALS paperwork in the vehicle. He put two and two together that this wasn’t my first rodeo. I told him this was number 3 and that I had been a Trooper until 2 weeks prior. He showed kindness in some of the words he spoke but he did his job. I absolutely hated the fact I existed at that moment. God could’ve called me up right there and I would’ve been okay with that. The tow truck arrived and we went en route to the Hardin County Jail. Turns out the jail was about 3 minutes away. When the Trooper keyed up on the radio, I noticed his Badge Number was 321. It was one digit off from mine. I asked him how long he had on and he said 7 years. Same as I had.

We got to jail and I went through the intox process. He walked me to the Intoxilyzer 5000. It was the same breath testing machine I was certified on. We stood there as it timed out. I refused the state test too. He even tried to warn me that it was going to be worse if I refused. I thought he was just telling me that to get me to submit to the test. I didn’t realize what Kentucky law was. I signed the Kentucky Implied Consent refusal notice and we walked into booking. When I sat down on the bench, the emotion finally broke me. I fell apart. Tears fell down from my eyes. The reality of what was happening was sinking in. I had done it again. This time at home. I didn’t know anyone there. How did I know they wouldn’t just throw me under the jail? No one was gonna come get me. Who would now? Why did I do this now? Why did I keep drinking? Why couldn’t I stop? I just wanted to die. Why did I keep making my life worse. “This nightmare can’t be real.”

It was then that I met Corporal Damon Lasley. Cpl. Lasley was the supervisor on duty that morning in booking. Cpl. Lasley walked up to me, advised me of what my charges were and that a bond had not been set yet but I could make a call. The only person I knew to call was Momma. I dialed her number and waited. When she answered, I just remember breaking down. She tried to calm me the best she could but I could tell she didn’t know what to do. She did tell me she loved me. When I hung up the phone, I didn’t know where I was going, if I was going to get to go home or what was going to happen to me.

I was processed, booked and placed into the “drunk tank” in booking. During processing, Cpl. Lasley examined my property that was placed into a basket to be inventoried. I’ll never forget him picking up my Trooper School ring that I had on at the time of my arrest. “Dude” “What’s going on with you man?” he asked. A few minutes later, as I was changed into that orange jumpsuit, I told him what the last few weeks had been like. He was kind to me. He treated me like a person and not an inmate in that moment. That one interaction in that moment was probably enough to keep me from making a really stupid decision a little later. I do remember laying down on that bunk in booking and closing my eyes. It was going to take hours for me to sober up.

A couple hours later, the jail staff notifed me that I did indeed had been granted a bond. $1000.00 Cash Bond Secured. Unlike Georgia, Kentucky doesn’t utilized bondsman. A bond is either secured, partially secured or unsecured, basically O/R with a contingency. Pre-Trial saw the risk. When I heard the number, I knew no one was coming. I didn’t have it. Momma didn’t have it. I hadn’t talked to my ex wife, but I knew we didn’t have it and I knew they weren’t going to tell my grandparents what was going on. Much of that first day is a blur. Sometimes I wonder if my mind suppressed some of the memory because of the pain, the emotion and the deep remorse.

I was allowed a “through the glass” visit with Momma that afternoon. I can’t tell you the shame and heartbreak and uselessness I felt as I approached the visitation room. No Mother should ever have to see her son in an orange jail uniform. Not me. This can’t be happening. Tears filled my eyes and my voice shook as I picked up the phone from the other side of the glass. “don’t cry” she said. “I love you”. All I could do for 10 millionth time in 2 weeks was say “I’m sorry.” I knew I was but I couldn’t explain exactly how I was sorry. Momma explained to me that she didn’t have the money to get me out and that she had spoken with my ex wife. I remember saying “you’ve got to go treatment when you get out.” For the first time, I said yes. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew I needed help. “it shouldn’t have taken this. It shouldn’t have taken me “losing” everything to know I needed help.” The visit lasted a few minutes and it was time to go. As I hung up the phone, I remember not knowing when I see Momma again, my family again or get to go home anytime soon.

They placed me back in the drunk tank. I stayed there almost 2 days. It took a couple months after I left the jail to realize why I had been placed there. It shouldn’t have. They were worried about me taking my own life. And they should’ve been. As I sat there, sobering up, beginning to think about the facts, my heart raced, my mind raced, my spirit begged for forgiveness. I can vividly remember sitting in the corner of that cell, banging my head on the wall, crying out to God that I just wanted to go home.

By the time the the evening of the second day rolled around, I hadn’t heard from any family. I was surprised when one of the detention officers opened my cell with a stack of towels, sheets and hygiene items. “Come on man, we gotta move ya.” “Oh God, they’re putting me in General Population!” I thought. Nope, that want the case. We walked down a hallway to pod that housed about 6 Solitary cells. It was protective custody but not only PC. It was also the same solitary that was know as “the hole”. Those that are disciplined for fighting within the jail or are violent offenders. No windows, no TV, no human contact. The Officer radioed for the control room to open the cell and I heard the buzz of the controlled lock release. He handed me my items and advised me that it would be place until further notice. At that point, all I knew was I had a bond, but no one was coming. What happened next? Did I have a court date? How long was I going to be locked away? The door slammed and I was locked inside Cell 357.

The cell was maybe 8x10 feet. Just big enough for a small metal 1 seat table, a cot and toilet/sink. That jail smell was unmistakable. As a Trooper, I’d smelled it for too long. The luxury I had there was getting to drop off an arrestee and leave. Not this time. How, in 2 weeks had I gone from holding a Badge Number of 361 to holding an inmate number of 26200?? It was stamped on the white bracelet on my wrist. I sat in that cell and prayed. A lot. I was in a bind, so naturally God was going to hear from me. It was notorious for not communicating with him unless I needed something. I wondered about those I was I hurting. I prayed my ex wife wouldn’t leave me. I hadn’t spoken to her and so far, she hadn’t picked up the phone when I tried to call. I prayed I hadn’t pushed away those I did love.

Since labor day was Monday, I didn’t go to First Appearance until Tuesday. It was via video from the jail. They called the few of us up from the weekend. When they called my name, I stepped in front of the video. To my surprise, the Judge already knew about me and my history. He read my charges. DUI, Failure to maintain lane and open container. “Open Container? I don’t remember having a drink in the truck.” Shouldn’t have surprised me.  I didn’t recall leaving Mom’s. Then, the Judge raised my bond to $2000.00 cash. Doubled it. I remember Judge Simcoe telling me that he knew I was a danger to myself and others. He also noted that it was my third charge in 2 weeks. I was bewildered, lost and shocked as I walked back to my cell. “I’m never leaving” I thought. I broke down in tears again after the first appearance.

Momma came and visited again Tuesday. One of the Detention Officers came and let me out for an hour out of the cell. (Hygeine, phone, etc.). He advised me I had a visitor and that it would be over the video phone. I was notified when it was time to pick up and when I did, I saw Momma’s face on the other end. She tried to comfort me. She also told me I had a court date that coming Friday. I immediately assumed they were going to offer me a plea bargain. She also said she hadn’t heard anymore from my ex-wife. I was drowning and my Alcoholism was trying to take down others with me.

Wednesday morning, the Officer came to offer me my hour out early. It was about 0730. I stepped over to the phone and dialed my ex wife’s number. To my surprise, she answered. All I can about this phone call, is that she made it clear she was basically finished. In the few days since I was arrested, my lies had begun to be uncovered and the truth that I refused to admit was revealed across more than one situation. I remember begging her not to give up on me. “I can change. I can do better”. I pleaded. Like words etched into stone, the reply was grim but honest. “I don’t think you can.”. The one person who had stood by me for nine years. Through all my selfish, self centered behavior. Through my hopes, my dreams, my priorities. The one person I was supposed to protect, love, honor and stay committed to had finally given up on me because I had driven her away. My drinking had done enough damage to destroy the one person I never wanted to hurt. I felt useless, cold, undeserving of life, guilty, toxic (which I was), and alone.

I remember the following events crystal clear. I stepped back into my cell, shut my own iron door and turned around. I reached the point where I knew it was time to check out. It was time to do what everyone wished I would do anyway. I looked at the white sheet on my bunk, looked around and began to look to see how inmates killed themselves in those settings. Then I began to cry.

Right then, right there, is where God started talking. At least that’s when I heard him. He had been talking the whole time. As I sat on my bunk crying, I looked up at the brick wall in front of me. Etched in the brick wall was ink. My eyes followed the blue ink across the borders of the white painted cement blocks. Etched in the wall in front of me, was a cross. Presumably, an inmate had drawn it in the brick. It extended from the ceiling all the way to the floor. As soon as I saw it, I fell to my knees. I do remember hearing God tell me that my story didn’t end there. I felt him tell me I needed to trust him. Suddenly, In my mind I began to hear the words to hymns I sang in church as a child. My mind found the words to worship songs that spoke to me heart. I began to think of versus by memory that God seemed to be pointed out to me. Philippians 4:7 echoed in my mind “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” I didn’t know what was going to happen but I knew at that moment God was telling me to hold on and that he was still in charge.

That’s the closest I’ve ever been to suicide.  I thank God for that moment. I know now where people make it to that don’t know the Lord or don’t trust him.

For two days, I prayed. I sang I my cell, I processed my life.  I processed every person, place, thing or event that to the best of my ability. That Friday morning, I was handcuffed, shackled and transported to the Justice Center for court. It was September 6^th, 2013. I can’t describe the feeling of shuffling into a courtroom in an Orange Jumpsuit in that fashion. Especially as a former law enforcement officer. When I entered the courtroom, I saw my Momma sitting there. I mouthed to her “I’m ok and I love you”. I was offered a deal. They dropped the Failure to maintain lane and the open container. I plead guilty to the DUI. They dropped the aggravated portion. I was sentenced to 10 days to serve with credit for 5 days. Finally, I was given a release date! September 11^th, 2013. That following Tuesday I was out.

I spent the next few days preparing for my release. I prayed, mediated. I’ve often told people that the 10 day period in jail was the best thing for me. Again, if I hadn’t been put in “time out” I know I wouldn’t be here today.

One of the the most powerful moments for me came when the book cart came around the Sunday night before my release. I was allowed to grab a book from the cart. I quickly located a bible from the cart and signed it out. Before I opened it up, I prayed that if God had anything to show me, that I’d be receptive and see it. When I opened that old worn, torn bible, God delivered. I opened it up to Psalm 142. It was David’s cy out to God in Peril from a cave:

¹ I cry aloud to the Lord;
    I lift up my voice to the Lord for mercy. ² I pour out before him my complaint;
    before him I tell my trouble.

³ When my spirit grows faint within me,
    it is you who watch over my way.
In the path where I walk
    people have hidden a snare for me. ⁴ Look and see, there is no one at my right hand;
    no one is concerned for me.
I have no refuge;
    no one cares for my life.

⁵ I cry to you, Lord;
    I say, “You are my refuge,
    my portion in the land of the living.”

⁶ Listen to my cry,
    for I am in desperate need;
rescue me from those who pursue me,
    for they are too strong for me. ⁷ Set me free from my prison,
    that I may praise your name.
Then the righteous will gather about me
    because of your goodness to me.

For two more days I prayed. I knew God had again saved my life for a reason and it was obvious. I had no idea what I was going to be walking out to or who I was going to be walking out to. I just knew I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t sure what trouble or further consequences were going to be waiting for me beyond my release.

On Wednesday Morning, September 11^th, 2013, that release came. A detention officer came to my cell. The cell that had been home for 10 days. I gathered my hygiene items and made the walk back up to booking. I changed out of that orange jumpsuit and into the clothes that I came in with. They were muddy and wrinkled. I received the personal items I had come in with and waited at the door. Not knowing what to expect on the other side, I waited for the buzzer. I knew I wanted different. I knew I needed help to change. Finally it came. I heard the radio sound off. “Control, Door 528/529, Releasing One.” The door unlocked and I stepped through.

I was about to find out that what used to be normal, no longer existed but God was running the show.

I just spent three nights in a two night town
Suns comin' up and I'm just goin' down
Am I ever gonna turn my life around
I just spent three nights in a two night town

It was women, it was sinnin', it was alcohol
It was everything the Bible says will make a man fall
And I didn't wanna little, Lord I wanted it all
It was women, it was sinnin', it was alcohol

When am I, ever gonna learn to walk away
When the chips are down and the cards ain't fallin' my way
Why do I always gotta stay too long till it's too late

I just spent three nights in a two night town
With a bunch of lost souls all tryna get found
Girl I've been a little crazy since you walked out
So I just spent three nights in a two night town

When am I, ever gonna learn to walk away
When the chips are down and the cards ain't fallin' my way
Why do I always gotta stay too long till it's too late

I just spent three nights in a two night town
Suns comin' up and I'm just goin' down
But baby this pain is still hangin' around
I think I'll spend four nights in a two night town

“Two Night Town”-Jason Aldean

February 18th, 2017

Guilty As Charged Part II

The August Sun was beginning to warm the central Georgia air by the time the jail let me bond out on the next morning. I can distinctly recall not wanting to leave the jail. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to die. What and who would I be walking out to? Who could possibly want me around? What good was I going to do now? I had to work. My career was in ruins. Law Enforcement was all I knew. Fear took hold of me. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to be near anyone. I wanted to isolate like I knew how to on a regular basis and pretend the previous 24 hours hadn’t happened. But it had. I was 27 years old and the only full time job I had ever had was with a Law Enforcement Agency. To those that met me at the jail that morning, thank you. You know who you are. I expected to be alone. I felt I deserved to be abandoned, but I wasn’t. Yet.

I remember making a comment in the car on the way back to our apartment. “I guess I’ve got a get a real job now.” That morning after we got home, and within minutes, there was a knock at our door. It was my Troop Captain and Buck Sergeant from the post. I didn’t even know what to say. They both just hugged me and asked me if they could sit down. They did. As we sat at my Kitchen table, the Captain looked at me said “Tyler, I wish you would’ve talked to someone. We could’ve stopped the train wreck before it happened.” He had no idea how bad I wanted that too, but I didn’t know what to say except for “I’m sorry.” My Sergeant looked at me from across the table and said “In the future, people are not going to judge you by the mistakes you’ve made. They’re going to judge you by how you rise from the ashes.” Ashes…That made sense. To me, my whole world was burning down. All I could think of was that I was such a hypocrite. How could I have done what I have done.

The Captain advised me that I was officially on administrative leave. As I signed the administrative leave notice, I knew that it was the beginning of the end. Before I could ask, the Captain let me know that the Major wanted to see me the next day.  After almost 7 years on the patrol I knew enough to know what that meant. I’d be headed to Atlanta the next day to be terminated. The captain asked about my in car computer and a few other pieces of pertinent equipment that needed to immediately be collected. And then, they were gone. I knew I’d be headed to HQ the next morning.

When the door shut, I began to come face to face with the immediate aftermath of my choice. As my ex wife began to speak, I learned of the call she received from my Post Commander advising her of what happened. I began to hear the shock and panic in her voice. I learned that they found at least 2 empty Bud Light Platinum beer bottles in the car. I don’t even remember having them but I do remember drinking that brand that day. I learned that my brother in law, in a hurry to get to my wife was stopped for speeding by a local Police Department and detained for being in possession of a firearm that he had legally purchased. I was horrified at the consequences. The chain reaction and ripple effect of my decisions was obvious. God! What had I done? Fortunately for me, the local news media made sure I was going to KNOW what I had done. They were going to make sure everyone else knew too. The headlines were brutal. “State Trooper arrested for DUI.” My booking photo was plastered all over social media, the television sites and the Macon Telegraph.

I do remember by the end of the day, texts and calls began to come through from those that cared enough to reach out, even when they didn’t know what to say. Some members of the GSP Peer Support team called. I look back now and I see how much I was in Denial about my drinking and the other unspoken regrets I had. I tried to keep it together, but the true reality of what was happening wasn’t even clicking yet. I made the heartbreaking phone call to my Mamaw. All I could tell was I wasn’t with the patrol anymore and that I had lost my job. Later, she called me back and left me a message that makes me cry even when I listen to it today. I still have it saved. In her message, she said “I don’t know what has happened, we don’t always know why things happened. I don’t understand everything that has ever happened to me. But Mamaw and Papaw love you and you’ll always be our special boy.”-It’s hard for me to listen to that even today. Papaw passed on 6 months later.

The next morning, I suited up into civilian dress clothes, my Captain came by and picked me up for the trip to Atlanta. It felt like dressing myself for execution. When we arrived at HQ, I stepped out of that unmarked Dodge Charger and felt my heart drop to my stomach. The very first Trooper I ran into in the parking lot was a Trooper I worked with when I first came out of Trooper School and was assigned to Post 47, Forest Park. (Southside Atlanta).

Walking through the halls at HQ, I kept my head down. I didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone. I was so ashamed of who I was and what I had done that I just wanted to get his termination over with. I wasn’t so lucky. As we passed the Colonel’s office, there he stood. Colonel McDonough was a Major when I went through Trooper School and had specifically made the decision to keep me on the road as I finished up Trooper School. He took a chance on me when I struggled as a rookie and now I had let him down too. He spoke to a few others in the hall and then, I saw him look my way. He stepped over and popped a salute. I snapped to, but I was surprised. I had already written myself off. After we exchanged the usual customary greeting between an Officer and a Trooper, he put his arm around me. As tears filled my eyes, I said for what seemed like the millionth time in 2 days, “I’m sorry”. He said “I know and apology accepted. Just because this happened, doesn’t mean you’re are out of the family.” Then, what he said next, didn’t stick at the time, but later on in my journey it stuck, and sticks with me now every day. “Sometimes God whispers and sometimes God yells, and God’s yelled at ya.”

That day went just as I thought it would. I proceeded to the Major’s office and indeed, I sat there, as the Major notified me that he had no choice but terminate me from the Department. I’d lost it. I’d given away what I had worked so hard to attain. Trooper School was (at the time), the hardest thing I had ever been through. I left HQ with my Captain and made the long ride home. I just knew I wanted to get home and get a drink. I wanted nothing more than to numb the pain.

Over the course of the next 2 weeks, a lot happened. I’ve often compared the time period between August 13^th-September 1^st, kinda like treading water while waiving off the coast guard as if I was ok. Help was circling but I still wasn’t willing to admit I had lost control. I recall going to our home church the Sunday after my patrol car crash. Someone close to us prayed with us before service started and at alter call I went forward, hit my knees and begged God to help stop the pain and stop the damage I was doing to others. I felt the hands of multiple other Christian men lay their hands on me in prayer. I suppose looking back, I was the one cutting my communication off with God. Alcohol blocks that line for me and I know that today.

So far in this post and in the previous post, you heard me talk a lot about the Georgia State Patrol and the value I placed on my job. You’ve heard me talk a lot about Alcohol and the value I placed on Alcohol as my comforter and healer. What you haven’t heard me talk about much is my marriage, my family, and my faith. This should make sense. I wasn’t thinking about those people or things either at the time either. At least not as far as it meant putting them first. See, Alcohol wasn’t my only vice. When everything finally came crashing down, I had tried almost everything to void in my soul. To stop the bleeding, hide the pain, and make myself feel like “enough.”

I need to address a subject at this point that needs to be addressed, but I need to do respectfully. I was not the Christian husband I should’ve been in my first marriage. Unfortunately, infidelity is a major part of my story today. I can look back on my timeline today and the relationship I had with my ex wife and see how obvious it was that I tried to use all kinds of people, places, things and events to try to feel “whole.” Satan comes in all shapes and forms. When the crash came, none of those things had worked. Friends growing up hadn’t worked. Clubs hadn’t worked, even the ones I had served in leadership positions on hadn’t worked. Just as Alcohol didn’t work, College didn’t work either. The Army hadn’t worked. The Sheriff’s Office hadn’t worked. The Georgia State Patrol hadn’t worked. My relationship with my wife hadn’t worked.

I had relationship with my family but it wasn’t where I drew my strength from either. As far as God went, I’ve been a believer in Christ since I was 8, but at this point in my life if you asked me if I gave him complete an total control over every aspect of my life, I might have told you I did, but the fact is, with all the insecurities underneath, I didn’t believe God cared about me or what was going on with me. I grew up in church, was active in church and was in the pew most Sundays over the 9 years in Georgia.

Regretfully, I looked outside of my marriage to fill that void. As my Alcoholism progressed, I began to allow events to occur inside and outside of marriage that assisted in its destruction. After I got sober, It took me a long time to accept that it was only my job to own my part. To clean my side of the street. As I stated in a previous post, it is not my job, goal, or objective to make anyone else’s life worse or to impact anyone else’s life in a greater negative way than what I already might have in the past. With that being said, I bring this up, because as I stated, this was part of my testimony and it was an active issue at the time of my patrol car crash. So, along with the drinking and the emotional and financial implications those decisions brought, my decisions across the board were effecting the emotional and spiritual condition of those closest to me, including my ex wife. I know I’m not unique here either and a lot of folks in recovery out there have been in the same position. I can tell you that at the time, every time I made a poor decision, the guilt, shame and remorse piled up, but somewhere the little voice continued telling me it was okay to continue the cycle of insanity, no matter who I hurt in the process. I was so destructive and with every drink, the “don’t do this” voice dissipated. I made so many choices I regretted for so long. I remember thinking how low and disgusting I was. My grandparents were married almost 65 years when everything fell apart. They were my example. I’ve made peace with my past today but I share these choices, because if I don’t, that one person out there sitting where I was may not make it hear another message on Recovery.

In the days following that trip to HQ, a few things happened pretty fast. I made the decision to retain an attorney in regards to my charges. I had a couple of gentleman that I dealt with on my own cases in court. I visited the Walker Firm in Warner Robins and I will tell you today that those guys are some of the most professional and caring attorneys I’ve ever met. I made their job go from hard, to harder, to down right impossible. I owe so much to those guys today.

The other thing I realized is that I knew I needed to find a job. Money had to come from somewhere. I went ahead and appealed my termination through the State Patrol but I knew it was only so I could share my regrets with the command staff. That was scheduled for the 22^nd of September. I ended up landing a job at one of the local car dealerships in sales. One of my friends was in the car business and he and I had talked about some of the advantages to selling cars. I was ecstatic when I got that job. I knew God was working and I wanted to do better. Things were finally on the upswing. I was scheduled to begin work Monday the 26^th of August.

On August 22^nd, 2013, I traveled, on my own to Atlanta for my appeal. I knew going in I wasn’t going to sway their minds on my termination, but I wanted an opportunity to share my regrets for my decisions. Upon my arrival, I signed in and waited to be called back. I realize now how dark of a place I was in and what a slippery slope I was sitting on. When I got called back, I was escorted to the conference room. The fact that I was escorted hurt. I realized I was an outsider now. I went through the appeal and told the Lt. Col. And the rest of the staff how sorry I was, how much better I wanted to make my life and the commitment I was ready to do that. I left the appeal feeling down, depressed and angry at myself.

That afternoon, the first trap door on the floor of my first “bottom” fell through. I got home, made the decision to drink again and then again, step behind the wheel of a vehicle. I was involved in another collision, this time minor. I rear ended a vehicle on Russell Parkway near Corder Road. Warner Robins PD responded and investigated the crash. I had no business driving that day either. I’ve told folks in the past, I was never suicidal, but I suppose I was by default. I didn’t WANT to kill myself, but I didn’t care if anything happened to me or not. When Warner Robins PD showed up, I recognized the officer. He and I had backed each other up on traffic stops in the past. Sadly, I caused him to have to do his job. He picked up on the odor of an Alcoholic Beverage coming from me and responded accordingly. The sad part is, I thought he wouldn’t notice. He asked me if I had been drinking. Of course I lied and said nothing. This officer was a Drug Recognition Expert. I had active orders for DRE School when my Patrol Car Crash Occurred. I knew he knew.  For the second time in two weeks, I was arrested and charged with DUI. The Georgia implied consent warning was read again from the orange card. This time I refused the test. I remember thinking I hadn’t drank much. I was in so much mental denial, it’s hard to believe today. My wife, for the second time got the call. This was the city jail and the process was quick. They let me out within an hour and again, I had screwed up.

The next day, I received a visit that I am still grateful for today. One of the members of the GSP command staff that knew me called me to ask if he could come visit. He said he wanted to bring down a friend of his and come down and talk. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was a 12 Step Call. Those guys know who they are and I am so appreciative for the effort they showed. We met up and talked, shared and I was told a story that later, helped to bring my journey full circle. I was still so far in denial that I couldn't understand the true meaning behind the trip.  

After that night, with two DUI’s pending, the phones calls and texts began to slow down. People started dropping off my radar. I could tell that people were beginning to give up on me and truthfully, I had already given up on myself. I hated who I was and hated who I wasn’t. I was never going to get it right and there was no way I was going to recover from what I had done. I didn’t think I deserved to.

I made the decision to finally seek professional help. Outpatient, but I was ready. I signed up for counseling and group services at the Phoenix Center in Warner Robins the following Tuesday. Meanwhile, I had started at the car dealership but had made the decision not to say anything about the second DUI. I began training on Monday, took off Tuesday to get registered for Treatment and went back in Wednesday for training. Wednesday afternoon, the consequences caught back up in the form of the media. At about 3:30 that afternoon, the sales manager paged me for a phone over the loud speaker. I remember thinking, “This is my third day, no one should need me.”. When I picked up, it was a reporter with the Macon Telegraph. She told me who she was and that she was looking for a comment on my second DUI. I remember feeling violated and humiliated at the same time. I frustratingly told her that I had no comment and hung up. 15 minutes later, I was released from the dealership due to being “uninsurable.”

As I got into my truck at the dealership, every single fiber of my being felt as if I was never going to be “allowed” to move forward. I felt labeled, damaged, unwanted, unworthy and useless. News broke that evening of the second DUI that had occurred days earlier.  I was paying the price for my wrongs, my sin and my decisions. “All the close calls, begging, pleading, whispers, God why didn’t I listen!?”

That night, I made a decision that ultimately altered the course of my entire life, even in the middle of the storm I was in.  I chose to leave out Friday to come up to Kentucky to see my family. With no job, the media following every step and the emotional support I felt I didn’t have. I packed a bag that Friday morning, fed our 8 year old dog Lexi and walked out the door of that apartment with every intention of returning Monday and setting out on trying to fix what was wrong with me. As if I could do that myself. I remember my wife asking me to wait for her and that she would go with me after work. I said no, that I needed the trip on my own. I wouldn’t make it back to Central Georgia for 6 months and life was about to become a whole lot different..

God was about to show me that it was his turn to take the wheel…………………………………………..

To Be Continued In Guilty As Charged Part III

Your hand was wrapped around the bottle
Your arm wrapped around her waist
You were running at full throttle
Big smile across your face

You were the life of the party
But it was all in your mind
I hate to be the one to tell you
You didn't have a good time

well I bet you don't remember
Kneeling in that bathroom stall
Praying for salvation
And cursing out the hall

The you went right back to drinking
Like everything was fine
But let's be honest with each other
You didn't have a good time

[Chorus]
So take a good hard look in the mirror
And drink that image down
I'm the truth you can't run from
I'm the conscious you can't grind
And the happiness you want so bad
You ain't going to find
Until you start believing
You didn't have a good time

When you woke up this morning
I guess you just assumed
That you got something out of
The empty bottles in this room

There ain't an angel that can save you
When you're listening to the wine
And the demons they won't tell you
You didn't have a good time

[Chorus]

Somebody had to tell you
You didn't have a good time

You Didn’t Have A Good Time-Randy Travis