Have you all heard about Alyssa Jo Lommel yet? If not, here’s the story. Hearing about her brings back memories of an incident that happened to me in September 2012. This incident should have ended my not-so-glorious drinking career, but it didn’t. Alyssa is still a youngster, but I really hope that she and her friends will learn from what happened. And of course I am hoping for a complete recovery on her end. Very scary situation. She will be in my thoughts.
I guess I am lucky that my incident happened in September and not December. My core group of drinking buddies (“The Four Musketeers”!) decided to do some pregaming at our regular watering hole prior to another friend’s birthday gathering. Just a drink or two, nothing major. I arrived and had a veggie burger, and a couple pints of a local brewery’s Octoberfest. Then the four of us decided that a shot would be a good idea. And that turned into three shots in ten minutes (and these weren’t wimpy shots). I also have to add that back in June I started taking antidepressants. Since then, I had been blacking out quite easily. Of course that didn’t deter me from my heavy drinking, it just made me an even bigger trainwreck.
So…back to the shots. The four of us soon realized that we were not driving anywhere, and we called a cab to take us to the restaurant where we were meeting up with the birthday girl and some others. This place has fantastic martinis, so of course we all had to get martinis when we arrived! It was at this place that my memory becomes spotty. I remember drinking a martini or two, and being loud and obnoxious with my buddies. Apparently we decided to go to the bar across the street. I don’t remember going there. I have a flashback of me hoisting one of those giant liters steins of beer and stumbling a bit, but that’s it for the night.
I woke up on a hill in a park that is a couple streets away from my house. It had been raining hard all night, and I was a mess. Mud everywhere, even in my ears. I had been vomiting, of course. I tried to stand up, but I was still so drunk that I could barely get up. At this point, I still didn’t know where I was. I figured it out eventually, and stumbled home. My purse was not on me, so I did not have keys to get into my house. I banged on the door until my boyfriend woke up and let me in. He was frantic, because a) I did not come home the night before and b) I looked like I crawled out of a sewer. He asked me where I had been, what had happened. I had zero recollection of getting to the park. Since my boyfriend thought I had been drugged, he rushed me to the ER. My throat hurt so bad I could barely talk, so x-rays were done. Despite there being no marks on my neck, the nurses were wondering if I had been choked by someone. I remember lying on a hospital bed, shivering uncontrollably, lapsing in and out of consciousness.
Nothing conclusive was found, so I was sent home and spent the next two days in bed horribly ill. My boyfriend called my friends telling them what happened, trying to piece together what happened to me. He also spent the day driving around, trying to retrace my steps looking for my purse. I had been seeing a counselor at this point, and I told her that I was worried about my drinking a few months prior. But I never told her about this night, because I wasn’t ready to stop. I tried valiantly to control my drinking from that point on, but we all know how that went: my car crash, getting life flighted to a hospital seven months ago today. I think I took a month off from drinking after what happened in the park, but I became lonely. I missed my “nights out with the girls”. So I succumbed, and my drinking took off again.
That’s all I’ve got for today. I saw that article, and my heart went out to Alyssa. My situation wasn’t nearly as bad as hers, but still, that could have been me.