The Night I Became a Prisoner During the War On Drugs
Trauma can become the springboard to courage and change
Even though I had been arrested and tossed in jail before, I never imagined drinking and drugging would land me in jail during the war on drugs. To be clear, my story is about being in jail, not prison. These are two different worlds.
The year was 1990, and I was a very young husband and father of a beautiful son. One day, one of my wife’s childhood friends, Sally (not her real name), called. She had recently moved to Arizona and wanted us to meet her new boyfriend, Jack (not his real name). We invited them to dinner on a Friday night.
I was born not normal. That’s always been my self-assessment. It was as if I had fallen into a wild world that made no sense. Rules were rules, and the consequences of ignoring them were significant.
I grew up in an Irish Catholic family, and we learned at an early age that shame, guilt, and fear were virtues. Every night was “cocktail hour,” which always lasted far longer — every holiday revolved around drinking alcohol. I learned how to drink starting at twelve years old because of my role models.
As I continued through high school, college, and into my first career, drinking was a nightly affair, and I was in love. One of my…
