If you’d have asked me a month ago, I never would have imagined doing the things I just did. As I drove along the Pacific Coast Highway back towards my house, my mind was flooded with a mixture of emotions. My hands still trembled as I gripped the steering wheel of my 2005 Ford F-150 Lariat. I glanced at the digital speedometer to check my speed; the last thing I needed at this moment was to be pulled over by the police for something unrelated.
I drew in a deep breath as I lit the first Marlboro I’d smoked in years. I needed something to calm my nerves, to make sure I continued to think clearly. I inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs. I immediately knew I missed the taste. Slowly, I exhaled as a thin wisp of smoke was sucked out of the small opening in the driver’s side window.
There weren’t many cars are the road at 11:30 P.M., even though it was a Saturday night. As I eyed the road ahead, I wondered how I’d let myself to get to this point, how I could jeopardize my life, my career, my marriage, and my freedom as I had just done.
THE BACKGROUND…
I believe it began last month sometime. I was sitting at home one night. My wife was lying on one end of our sectional sofa and I was seated in the recliner of our sectional sofa, seated perpendicularly to my wife. We’d been sleeping on the couch for the last couple weeks as she recovered from a recent surgery and I could see she was quickly falling asleep.
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