Choices

_­Last week, I put a case of water under my grocery cart.  The cashier didn't see it, and I wasn't charged.  So I went to the customer service desk and asked to pay the $3.99 that I owed.  The customer service representative thought I was crazy.  

This blog is not about stealing water.  This blog is about making choices.

Every day we are faced with countless choices.  

Sometimes the choices are simple.  What should we wear.  What should we make for dinner?  Should I bother even paying the $3.99?  

Other times the choices are significant.  Which college to apply/attend?  To be married or not?  Buy a house or rent?

The degree of difficulty in making a choice should depend on the outcome or consequence.  Unfortunately, our ability to make a rational decision can be influenced by ego.  Thoughts like "That won't happen to me" or "I will be fine" are powerful and easy to accept.

I recently made a choice.  It seemed simple at the time.  

To drive or not to drive? 

Maybe you can relate.  Maybe you have had some wine.  It's late.  You feel fine.  You are by yourself.  Instead of asking for a ride home or calling a taxi, you choose to drive home.

This is not a simple choice.  This is very significant. And with very significant consequences.  

Just a few nights ago, after attending a charity event and having wine,  I decided that I could drive.  It was late.  I was by myself.  It was less than five miles.  I just wanted to go home.  

I drove less than two miles before I was pulled over for suspicion of driving under the influence.  

The officer had me get out of my car, on College Avenue, to conduct several sobriety field tests and a breathalyzer test.  Then I was handcuffed and driven to Mount Nittany Medical Center for blood analysis. 

If you are debating whether to drive after even one glass of wine, think about me.  A middle-aged woman being asked to stand on one leg in front of Kildaire's (in high heeled boots) then asked to walk toe to heel in a straight line in front of an audience of college students.  Think about the humiliation of being handcuffed and placed in the back of a police vehicle under bright lights.  Or, being tossed off to a nurse not by name but by "d.u.i. suspect".  

And if that doesn't deter you, consider the shame that accompanies this offense.  Shame is defined in Webster's dictionary as:

1.  a : a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety

b : the susceptibility to such emotion

2.  a condition of humiliating disgrace or disrepute : 

3. something that brings censure or reproach; also :something to be regretted.

For the past five days, shame has consumed me.  I haven't told one single soul.  Not even my husband.  

I have been dreading reading the newspaper for fear of seeing my name.  I have been avoiding phone calls.  I feel like I have needed a vomit bag to open the mailbox. 

But hiding or trying to hide what happened, only makes what I did more insidious.  This isn't about stealing a case of water.  And I'm not crazy.  

I have always tried to live my life openly, honestly, and authentically, but these past 5 days I have lived in purgatory.  

I can't do it any more.  

My intent in writing this blog is to bring awareness to this issue.  My ultimate intent would be that anyone who reads this story (especially my children), will choose NOT to drive and will always choose to be upfront and honest.

By speaking the truth (I told my family tonight), I already feel a huge weight being lifted from my heart.  I will still dread going to the mailbox for the next few weeks.  I will still have to deal with my sentencing. and I must accept that I made a mistake.  

I made the wrong choice.