Sunday, July 5, 2026
Today is Sunday, July 5, 2026.
Ten days ago, I made the worst decision of my life.
I drove while intoxicated.
The part that scares me the most isn’t even the accident. It’s that I don’t remember leaving my house.
Earlier that morning, my son asked if I would be okay to pick up my husband when he got off work. He works nights and was supposed to work again that evening. I told him, “Absolutely.” At the time, I was still recovering from drinking the night before.
I remember sitting at my desk with what was left of a bottle of Fireball, slowly nursing it while scrolling through Facebook.
To understand what happened next, I need to back up a little.
Over Father’s Day weekend, I found out that my mom’s side of the family had another large family gathering. My mom died in July 2014, and since my dad passed away in January 2018, my sisters and I have felt like we’ve slowly disappeared from that side of the family. Invitations stopped coming. Holidays happened without us. Family reunions came and went, and we weren’t part of them.
My mom was one of ten children—six sisters and three brothers. You’d think a family that big would never let one another feel forgotten.
But that’s how it felt.
The truth is, I don’t think they treated my mom much differently when she was alive. There were times they’d make plans, then change them and somehow “forget” to tell her. I never understood how someone could forget their own sister.
That Thursday morning, June 25, I was rereading a Facebook post I had written about how hurt I was and how abandoned I felt by that side of the family.
I was angry.
Not just irritated.
Deep, years-old, unresolved anger.
Looking back now, I believe I decided I wanted to drive to some of their houses and tell them exactly what I thought.
I don’t know if that’s where I was going.
I can’t say for certain because I don’t remember leaving my house.
I don’t remember getting into my car.
I don’t remember where I drove.
I don’t remember the accident.
The next memory I have is waking up in a hospital bed.
I was handcuffed.
There were police officers standing over me.
That was the moment my life changed.
Leave a comment