Nine years ago this week, my fourth-and-soon-to-be-ex wife picked me up from Creative Care, the Malibu dual-diagnosis rehab that had been my home for the previous 35 days. I had resigned my teaching job. I was facing a jail sentence after a felony drunk-driving arrest. I had gone months without seeing my children. I was a disgrace, a punch line, a scandal to my family and my now-former colleagues.