An Optimistic Look at My Alcoholism

In hindsight, this is probably one of my more idiotic displays of denial, but back around the height of my daily drinking, driving home each night had become difficult, if not downright terrifying. I remember telling my mom that if I kept blearily driving like this, I was likely to end up killing myself, or others, and that I was finally going to do what I should have done a long time ago. “Ryan, that’s great! Have you already called a rehab center?”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve called an optometrist. I’m going to finally get glasses!”

Yes, I really did try to solve my drunk driving dilemma with eyeglasses, which was a bit of a farce, because when you don’t really need glasses, they just make things SOOO much worse, plus, now there was something new and distracting to f*ck with on my face while driving. I believe they did actually clarify some very far away things, like exit signs miles up the highway, but much more noticeably, they made everything in my immediate vicinity a blurry mystery. The interior of my car turned into a foggy dreamscape, and my phone, the speedometer, the radio… all of this was now lost to me.

On the upside, they were really cute. So maybe I can’t see how fast I am going or what radio station I’m listening to, but when they pull my body from the wreckage someone will notice that these glasses really were the perfect shape for my elongated face-type.

Mentally these glasses exist as a reminder of darker times. But physically, they live in the darkness of my Jeep console, where they have remained for several years. Because it was a miracle— around the time I stopped drinking (and finally CALLED A REHAB CENTER and not an optometrist), my eyesight miraculously healed itself! It remains a mystery, and we may never know how or why.