The Little Red Car I Killed

When I was in my mid twenties I bought a lipstick red, two door Chevy Cavalier. Well, I didn’t buy it. My credit score at the time was “Hell No.” Instead, my parents bought it for me and I made payments to them. It was the nicest thing I’d ever owned. I felt like a kween driving that car. The first time I drove it, I popped in my brand new Butch Walker CD and listened to this song.

Photo by Stephan Widua on Unsplash

But after awhile, having a new car was no longer important to me. I started smoking in it after vowing I never would. I stopped getting regular tune ups and oil changes. I don’t think I took it through a carwash or vacuumed even once.

After years of treating it like a dumpster and toward the end of it’s life, the floorboards of the car started to flood. I don’t know if it was the rain outside somehow dripping in or if something was happening from inside the engine. I would get in and my feet would feel wet with water on the floorboards. This was a stressor-mostly because I just couldn’t be bothered with car trouble.

I’m not sure what I was so busy doing. I wasn’t married and had no children. All I really had to do was go to work. After that, there was endless amounts of time for me to be a responsible adult and take care of things like getting the car I drove to the repair shop. Somehow, though this task felt impossible.

It was partly due to the fact that I was broke. I didn’t have the money to fix it. I had spent all of my money (and then some) on drinking at the bars and buying another round for the new “best friend.” (I was such a lover when I was drunk). But mostly, I couldn’t be bothered because I was so out of focus.

So I would get into my car to head to work or out to a bar, see that it was flooded with water and think WTF!!?!? I would grab some towels and sop up enough water to drive wherever I was going and then completely forget about the car flooding situation. I got out, shut the door and walked away. That was a problem for later me.

This happened over and over again. I got in the car, my shoes got wet, I sopped up water with towels and then did nothing at all to solve the problem-acting as if I had amnesia. If any remotely responsible human saw me doing this I’m sure I would have been admitted to a hospital for tests.

Eventually the car had enough of this craziness and broke down in the middle of the interstate. I had to put on my flashers and wait for a tow truck to come save me. There’s nothing like a 30 minute ride next to Bob the tow truck guy to prompt regret that I didn’t get the situation taken care of sooner.

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When I look back on this story it reminds me of how complicated everything felt when drinking was at the center of my life. When I woke up hungover and shaky I couldn’t be bothered with my car because I was already at my max emotional capacity just trying to be alive. I was likely running late and feeling rushed, frantic and ashamed.

I couldn’t take care of the car after work or on the weekends because I was in a mad rush to get to the next party, bar or event. I needed to keep a constant buzz to escape the reality that it wasn’t just my car that was falling apart and in need of deep repair, but also me.

In fact, there were times that I didn’t even pick the car up until someone gave me a ride first thing Monday morning to the bar parking lot where I had left it a couple days before. Thinking about my car’s issues beforehand was out of the question. I literally didn’t have the ability to take care of this thing. I was barely making it myself.

This isn’t an example of a flighty 20 something making bad choices. It was a reflection of my deep personal suffering. It was an outward expression of the mess unfolding inside. I was flooding myself with alcohol. The toxic relationship I was in (along with my rewired brain waves) altered me. I was unable to find a single value that mattered.

Sadly, the broken down car and the long ride with Bob the tow truck driver wasn’t the turning point. I continued to center alcohol for another decade. As life went on, I did find ways to do adult-like responsible things-but only because I rewarded myself with booze at the end of every day.

Alcohol always made tomorrow harder. It’s a crushing, never ending cycle that feels impossible to escape. Alcohol robbed me from my time, energy and over all well-being.

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There’s nothing I love more about being sober than having my well-being back. I know that if my car is causing trouble or if my kids are fighting I can manage the situation with clarity. It won’t always be easy. I still feel stressed. It’s a pain to take your car in for an oil change. But that kind of stress doesn’t compare to the stress I felt when I avoided my problems. They were always there, lingering under the alcohol, waiting for me to sober up and notice.

That crushing feeling is gone-and I’m so unbelievably grateful. I know that I can deal, cope and do whatever it takes to face life’s simple (and complicated) challenges. Thanks to living alcohol free I learned to center my well-being over anything else. I have capacity, room and space to handle things. This is a feeling that never gets old.

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Want to hear more of my story? Read my book or check out my blog that chronicles my first few years of sobriety.

Are you a sober person who has a story to tell? I’d LOVE to help you! Check out my workshops page to schedule a free consultation.