Taming of a Beast
It was back in 1993, the last day of work before Christmas. 70 of us were laid off that day (after 6 months notice), and left at lunch, never to go back. Of course, we hit the local bar first, to celebrate and say our goodbyes. It was winter in Pennsylvania, but dry and above freezing. I split for a while, went to get my bike. Everyone at the bar thought I was nuts (which I got off on) for riding in the winter.
We left the bar around 11PM, me on the bike and my friend in his truck, following me. I made an illegal pass in town, to get around a slower car. My bike had straight pipes on it, very loud when opened up, and I was making lots of noise passing her. I looked to my right to see if it was ok to get back over, when it got quiet, deathly quiet... what happened? I am floating... what the hell? Then I hit and was sliding, feet first, on the street I guess. I remember closing my legs, in case I came up on a fire hydrant or a pole. When I stopped sliding, I got up. My foot hurt, but thats it. I walked to the bike, a half block away, and picked it up. I saw a car there, ripped open from the front to the back, with some lady in it. I tried to start the bike, but nothing. My friend came over and asked if I hit ice or something, all he saw was sparks. The bike was totaled, frame broke in 2 or 3 places, wheel into the engine, dammit. I looked at her car... she wouldnt get out of the car, scared to death of us. My bike hit her in the front headlight and ran down the drivers side of her little car, my highway peg digging into her sheet metal like a can opener, all the way back until my front wheel hit her back wheel. The rear of her car was torn from the body. Damn, I did that? And lived?
Needless to say I got busted for drunk driving. First offense got me probation for a year and a 6 month suspension and a load of fines.
Four months later, a routine medical test shows something wrong with my electrocardiogram. More tests show 4 blockages to my heart, 3 are 100%, one is 75%. I am told that I need bypass surgery now, or die soon. We have it done the next day.
During my recuperation, I rebuild the Harley I wrecked into one of the wildest bikes in the area. I am to get my license back in August, and I cant wait to take the bike out.
I get an invite to one of the local motorcycle clubs annual parties, 100 miles away and secluded on their own hunting camp. I will be driving then, and will be safe drinking there. I pack the bike and head up for a fun 3 days of drinking with the guys. What could go wrong?
2 days later, I wake up in a hospital bed. I have a huge bandage on my belly. I assume I was shot or stabbed. I ask the nurse, she wont answer me. A guy comes in and asks me all sorts of questions, mostly about drinking and family history. He is irritating me, I just want to know why I am there and when do I leave. As things turn out, they found me along the road about 15 miles from the party. I had run off the road in a curve, and was laying there unconscious. I was medivaced by helicopter to a hospital and they put a scope up my stomach to check the bypass out, since the scar was still sort of fresh.
To this day, I have no recollection of that crash. I do not remember leaving the party, or why. Needless to say, I was charged again with drunk driving. This meant mandatory jail time, 3 to 23 months. After years of riding with the guys and drinking all the time, what the hell is going on?
My probation officer from the first offense wasnt happy at all. He was a reformed drinker and lectured me pretty hard. I did the usual nodding of the head while he ranted and raved, but I wasnt listening. He handed me a business card, told me to go see this lady, a psychologist. I got pissed then, because I wasnt crazy, I was just a biker! He said I am ordering you to go, as part of your probation. Dont go, and I lock you up.
I go to my appointment with her, just to get it over with. She never asked me anything about me, but rather about my family. We drew up my family tree, then listed deaths and divorces, who drinks or does drugs, and so on. It was interesting, since I never much thought about any of this. Near the end of our hour, she asked me what I thought. With me, that is not usually a smart thing to do. I told her that I thought this was all bullshit, and did not plan to return. I was only here because I was ordered here by my probation officer. She smiled, and agreed that many people think it is bullshit. Then, she reached into her desk and handed me a worn out book, Adult Children of Alcoholics. She offered me a deal: Take the book and read it. If I decide to not come back after reading it, fine. Just drop the book off someday. I was sort of shocked, she was trusting me with her book. I took it and left, never to return.
I get home and hit the bathroom, where I do most of my reading. I flip through this book and find lots of stories in it, stories that resemble my life and experiences. I keep reading, until I realize my ass is stuck to the seat and in pain! I move to the living room and read, and read, until I am finished with the book. What an interesting book, no wonder she had me read it. Now, my mind is flashing through all the stories in the book, and comparing it to my own experiences. Something is happening.
I call the therapist office and make an appointment, to return the book. I go, and we talk more. This time, it is more about my family tree and how I had some learned behavior patterns. Huh? Learned? What?
To make a long story short, I went to Karen Carrnibucci for about 6 months, once a week. We not only made great headways into my past and into my brain, but we became great friends. I was making changes in my life, the first one was not drinking anything with alcohol in it. Well, my circle of friends did 2 things rode Harleys and drank. I got rid of my beer keg refrigerator and gave away all the whiskey to my friends, and surprisingly, they quit coming around. I was alone in the world, since I didnt party anymore. That was maybe the hardest part so far, having no circle of friends to run with.
It was decided that I was making progress way faster than was expected. My therapist told me to think seriously about going to a one week live-in course nearby at the Caron Institute. She gave me brochures and told me to consider it. She warned me that insurance wouldnt cover the $1000. I talked it over with my wife, and we agreed that it would probably be a good thing to do. My wife had already seen changes for the better and wanted me to get completely fixed. She also knew that I had a court date coming up which would most likely put me in jail for a while, and maybe this trip would help sway the judge into a lighter sentence. She was more optimistic than I was.
I show up in Reading, PA, at the Caron Institute. I am there in my leathers, chain wallet, very typical looking biker-type. I see others there, men and women, some dressed up in fancy clothes, others in jeans and t-shirts. Some drove up in BMWs others were in old ratty cars. The conversations, as we met outside, were mostly about what we did for a living, how much a house cost, all the usual let me impress the hell outta you stuff. It was typically all bullshit, I was thinking.
We get registered, all 18 of us. The week would be spent in an old Victorian style hotel. None of the rooms locked. They put 2 to a room. The only rule was that no one enters another persons room without permission, which was only common sense to me. I didnt know my roomie, so we both put up our initial walls of protection, keeping any talk simple and not very deep.
Our class that night was all of us sitting in a big room, with a chalkboard. Some guy walks in and writes the word CODEPENDENCE on it and turns to us and asks What does this word mean? No one wants to answer, so he picks people to answer. Not many knew, if any, but we all took a shot at it. After we all tried to define it, he finally wrote the definition: The inability to make a decision based on your own thought process (or something like that). Up until this point, I never even heard of the word, and wondered if I was in the right class.
The rest of the night was made up of outlining what we would do the rest of the week. We would be split into 2 groups and work together. Each group had 2 counselors, and we needed to trust them. Well, I trust no one, so this should be interesting as hell. We also got homework, to be done for the next mornings classes. We had to write two letters, to someone, anyone, involved in our lives. Damn who do I write to?
We break up the class and go to the lobby of the building, where we were to socialize and discuss the days events. No one knew each other, so we all stood around drinking coffee and juices that were provided there. After an hour or so, one of the counselors comes in and asks us to look around at each other. What were we doing. What were we holding. Drinks we were doing what we did naturally, drinking while socializing. Then he left. It was quiet, everyone acknowledging what he said. It was very interesting.
I write my 2 letters, one to my real dad (left when I was 4) and one to my adoptive step dad (the Elder in JWs). The letters were total opposites of each other, the one to the step dad full of hate and threats of death, and the one to the real dad filled with questions of why?. I turned them in, knowing I never gave them an address to send them to. I figured they were just gathering information for further classes.
We are broken down into groups of 3, and put into a counselors office. Once there, we are informed that we have to read our letters, one after the other, out loud. I am paired up with 2 of the cutest gals there and have to maintain my cool, that tuff-guy thing. It is voted, not by me, that I will go first. Ugh. So, I ready them, one after the other. I read the hate filled one first, seeing the girls shrink back from me when the threats are made. Then I read the one to my real dad. Let me tell you, I didnt even get thru the first paragraph before breaks in my voice showed up. I maintain, or try to, but eventually I break down in tears, still reading. Holy shit, what a pussy! But I cant stop, and manage to finish the letter. I look up, and the counselor and the 2 girls are crying too. This is going be a long week.
The girls read their letters and we all did the hug thing. After each letter was read, the counselor tore it into pieces. Once we were all done, he burned the papers in a trash can. No one would ever see what we wrote. The exercise was explained to be one that we should do anytime we are upset with someone. Write them our deepest feelings, letting it all out. Then destroy the letter. You let out your anger in the letter, and can then talk to or write to the person without all the pent up anger. Let me tell you, it worked for me that day. I felt so much weight come off my chest. I could breath. I was impressed and amazed. I also made 2 new friends, the girls that watched me be a human.
We had our group meet the next day in a room that had only big pillows in it. We were going to learn another exercise, one that we all had to take part in. Each of us would get 5 minutes, to talk about anything we wanted to. After the 5 minutes were up, the rest of the people there would get 30 seconds each to describe what that person just said. The hitch was though, we could not define their emotion. We could say When she said this-or-that, she was smiling, but we could not say When she said this-or-that, she was happy. When anyone used an emotion in their sentence, we had to raise our hands in correction. Also, if we defined what the person said, we were corrected the same way. Sound simple? Try it sometime. We learned that most of us do not listen well. We also found out that we put our own definition of emotions onto others. Just because someone is smiling does not mean they are happy. We did this every day, all week. By the end of the week, none of us were making mistakes, and everyone knew each other better. I listen well to this day.
The other thing we did was Experiential Modeling. We were told that a few of us would do this each day, basically playing out something in our lives that effected us. I was scared to do it, so I never volunteered. I watches all these men and women work thru their issues. We had all kinds, from child abuse to sex addicts, to cutters, to abusers. What the hell was I there for, I was just a drunk!
The way this worked was, a person went up to do their experience. The counselor would help them pick people that were an important part of their issues. One of them was where a girl had been molested by her brother and hid the fact for years. When the brother died, she had never been able to confront him and this led to problems in her life. She lost it in the room, freaked out, and then the counselors helped her thru it. I was shaking all through these exercises, dreading my turn.
I was able to put it off until our last day, Thursday. I was the only one left when we met, I had to go. I get there in front of everyone and I am asked questions by the counselor. As I answer, he keeps putting his hand on my chest. After a few questions, he tells me to breath. Huh? Yep, he explained that when I am under pressure, I dont breath. This is common with many people like me, and all it does is raise my blood pressure, making me feel like I am going to explode. I tried it, and it did help me think easier. Then, he asked me to find the safest spot in the room and go stand there. Huh? The room is empty except for the pillows and the people. I look around, and walk over to the corner of the room, putting my back into the corner. Everyone walks over and stands in front of me. He said he knew I was going to go there. He asked why I went there, and I explained that no one would be out of my view and no one could sneak up on me. That, as things turned out, was how I survived in life. To this day, I always keep my back to a wall. Some old habits never change.
We go on with my session. More questions, more answers, all along being reminded to breath. I was asked about the drunk driving charges and my bike. I said I sold the bike, to pay legal fees. I was asked if I missed the bike. I explained that I built it from the wrecked one and yes I missed it. The second part of that sentence was through tears, oh shit, here we go again. Then, he asked me why I was here. I started to explain that I had to do this so my kids would not go through what I did, the learned behaviors. That was the hardest to say, I was all blubbery by now. He said good, thats it. Your session is over, you know what you are doing and why. Then, there was this huge group grope. Have you ever been hugged by about 12 people at once, most of them crying?
Friday was our graduation. None of us wanted to leave. Not a week ago, none of us knew or liked each other. Now, when faced with going back to our lives with all this new information, we wanted to stay together forever. We were told that this was normal. Another thing we were told is that, if we were successful in our changes in life, chances were that we may lose our spouses. What attracted your spouse in the first place may now be gone forever, and we had to be ready for this. Yikes!
I get home and am all excited from my new information. I babbled on and on about my week to my wife. She listened, but wasnt quite sure what to make of it. As time went on, she also saw the changes in me, from a angry bad tempered biker to a milder gentler guy that rides bikes. I had quit throwing things when I got frustrated. I didnt yell when I got upset. I didnt punch holes in the walls anymore when things didnt go my way. And best of all, I would listen to her every word. Life was good.
Fast forward almost 10 years. I now only drink a beer or two socially. I did my time for drunk driving and it is all history, never to be repeated. Neither of my kids have picked up any of my past habits, and they follow my lead on most issues. We are still married and celebrating 20 years in 2003. While we arent what most people would consider normal (separate vacations, etc), we are still smiling and doing our thing.
My hope is that, anyone reading this with some of the same issues I had, will learn something. Feel free to ask any questions, but know that I am not shy answering.
Animal