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July 2nd, 2013
My therapist told me this would be a good idea. I’m not entirely convinced. It’s obvious I have to try something though. What I’ve been doing hasn’t been working. The choices available to me are pretty clear.
Dr. Martin says writing down my thoughts will help me focus on what I need to do. My parents have been worried about me. I get it. I’m just so angry all the time. What even is the point? You think your life will go one way and then it U-turns into oncoming traffic. Boom. Crash. 10 car pileup. Everything got so out of control, so quickly. Ugh, I didn’t used to be this pathetic. I don’t want to be anymore. So here I am, 1 month sober in here then onto my real life.
July 5th, 2013
What they’re giving me helps, but not much. I haven’t slept since I checked in. My bones feel like they’re bending inside my body. My skin feels like it wants to crawl away from me. I’m always cold and burning up at the same time. Not to mention, all the time I’ve spent in the bathroom has left me raw. It all feels disgusting. I know exactly what could fix it too. But that’s not an option, right now. It didn’t used to be that way. It started out simple.
A few during parties. Then I needed a few more to sleep. Then I needed them to get through the day. Then it happened. There was no harm in it, until there was. I always thought I was one of the millions of people that could handle their shit. I guess not. I feel like such a loser. Even right now, I want to jam this pen into my eye socket, at least that way this pain would stop. The writing helps to distract me a little at least.
July 6th, 2013
My mom visited me today. I wish she hadn’t. I know it only hurts her to see me this way. She said my dad had a work thing come up. She’s lying. I know she is. He’s ashamed of me. What pastor wouldn’t be? I don’t blame him honestly, not that it still doesn’t make me angry. I was a leader in his youth ministry once upon a time. I’ve never told him that the first time I got high was at another youth leader’s house. We were so close back then. A part of me thinks he knows. I mean I wasn’t a very good youth leader if I’m honest. I couldn’t stand those idiotic, sheltered Christian kids. Maybe cause they reminded me so much of myself. I’m sure all the older people at the church are having a field day with me being in rehab. My poor parents. How cliche is it for the pastor’s kid to be rebellious anyway?
I’m not so far gone to blame my parent’s for my situation. They tried with me. They gave me everything I needed. They never really forced religion down my throat. They supported me when I didn’t go to the christian college they were alumni at even if it was massively cheaper for them. It’s honestly annoying I can’t lay any of this at their feet. Maybe I’m just weak. I can’t deal with it.
Mom said she prays for me every day. I only nodded. I don’t have the heart to tell her I haven’t believed in God since I was twelve. Especially since I don’t see the point anyway. God hasn’t helped me kick this thing like so many other ex-addicts at church are so happy to say He has. I’m not too proud to write that I’ve begged this non-existent God to take away this pain. He hasn't. Whatever. I’ll let mom believe what she wants. If God was any good, she’d have given her a son she deserved.
July 11th, 2013
Last night I had a dream where I got high again. The whole nine. I bought the stuff, went home, popped them and I felt them come on. She was there with me too. It felt so real. I could feel my feet on the pavement, the softness of the carpet, her hand in mine. I could feel myself drift into the bliss of the numbness. It was…a relief. Then I woke up, in this goddamned cell they call a recovery room. I was immediately angry. I may have rearranged my room a bit afterwards. Dr. Martin says most that patients she sees experience the same thing, some crap about my brain chemistry being altered. I asked her how long this is supposed to be a thing for. She said most patients are clear of withdrawal symptoms after two years. Two years! I hate this.
July 13th, 2013
My dad came. Mom hadn’t lied evidently. He hugged me, tightly when he saw me. I may have cried. They said they were able to talk my school into giving me the semester off so I could recover without worrying about graduating. I don’t deserve them. I feel guilty about what I’ve put them through. Lord knows this place isn’t cheap.
I asked about Jaime. They looked away from me as soon as I said her name. My dad was kinder about it, but mom did not hold back her distaste of her. She was quick to remind me that she never liked her. That made me angry. I said that she had every right to visit me here and they had no right to stop her. They blamed her for what happened. I told them it wasn’t fair to hold her responsible for things that were my fault.
That was the first time I’d ever really said that. I’m not stupid. I know it’s all my fault, but I don’t think I've ever acknowledged it. It was clarifying. It was lost on my parents, but I think it was a big moment for me.
I did insist that my parents let Jaime visit me. She must be worried.
July 16th, 2013
Apparently, the worst of it is over. The cravings are still there, but it’s manageable now I think. Now it is apparently the monotony of sobriety I have to look forward to. I will be “at-risk” for a while going forward. It’s been two weeks now. I don’t think I’ve been sober this long since high school. I’ve been encouraged to attend meetings now. NA. I have nothing in common with the people in these groups. I stay quiet for most of it, but I’ll try. It bothers me how centered on a higher power these steps are, but if I’ve proven anything to myself is that I can’t handle this on my own. So maybe there’s something to it.
I’m embarrassed my life has gotten to this point. I can’t dwell on that anymore though. I just need to get through this, be over it once and for all. Maybe there is light at the end of this tunnel.
July 20th, 2013
My parents told me they’ve told the staff that Jaime can visit if she wants. I appreciate that. I know they’re scared, but it’s not her fault I’m an addict. It’s mine. They said the staff hasn’t stopped her, she’s just never come according to my parents. Mom couldn’t hold back how pleased she was with that. That’s hard to believe though. She hasn’t tried to visit once?
I’ll be out here in a little over a week. I have to see her.
July 22nd, 2013
I had another dream again last night. This time Jaime was much more the focus of it. We got high together, heavier stuff this time. I was never one for the hard stuff, it scared me too much. At the end though, I was taking way too many pills for it to be safe in any regard. Jaime said so herself when she found out how much I was taking. Bless her. Honestly I’d have ended up in the hospital a whole lot sooner if it wasn’t for her.
I miss her. I still can’t believe she hasn’t visited. She must be waiting to hear from me first or something.
July 24th, 2013
This third step is kicking my ass. How am I supposed to surrender my free will to the Higher Power? That makes zero sense to me. I understand intellectually that on my own, I’ve ended up here, but still… Am I supposed to be just some puppet of a God I’m not so sure cares about me? No way! They say the Higher Power doesn’t have to be a religious thing, it can be anything as long as we surrender to it. Maybe I’m just not getting it. I can’t wrap my mind around anything else but God being the Higher Power, it’s probably my Christian background I have to thank for that.
I’ll go along with this until I’m out of here. I’m sure there are plenty of addicts who get along fine without the 12 steps. I’m probably one of those, because there’s no way I’m getting past this third step. I’m going to get through this. This will just be a blip on the radar. A speed bump. I’ll make it through just fine.
July 27th, 2013
The parents visited again. Still no Jaime. What the hell is going on with her?
I asked my parents if they could get in touch with her. They said no. We argued about that. What harm could one phone call do to their reputation? It’s important to me. It’s whatever, I’ll call her once I’m out. I’m sure there’s an explanation. She wouldn’t just leave me here.
My parents said they have a room ready for me once I’m out. As if the situation wasn’t already embarrassing enough.
August 2nd, 2013
I’m finally getting out of here. It feels like I’ve been in prison for years. I still feel like someone’s worn out shoe. My nerves are shot, my body is sore and I still have trouble sleeping, but I’ve been clean for a month. That’s something.
I’m probably not going to keep writing. It was a nice distraction while I was in there, but I was never too big on studying type stuff. Once my parents are feeling better I’ll get back to school and see what the heck is going on with Jaime. It’s a little messed up she never even checked up on me. I’m not some victim though, I’ll get through this. Maybe someday I can actually have a healthy relationship with drugs. It’s all going to be okay.
September 20th, 2013
The doctors say it was a miracle that they got to me in time. Maybe they shouldn’t have.
I woke up to my mother crying and being connected to a ton of tubes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse. I felt like I got run over. My dad walked in and started weeping. I’d never seen him cry before. Then I knew I’d never felt worse.
I don’t know.
It’s hard not to feel like maybe it would’ve been better had the doctors just let me go. My parents wouldn’t be suffering as much. Though that would probably be worse for them at first. What is wrong with me?
I can’t do this anymore.
September 22nd, 2013
I give up. Fine. You win. I’m Yours.
I’m sorry it took so long. I’ll do it Your way.
September 25th, 2013
Step four is inventory. Ruthless I think. But I think I can probably do anything after accepting God. Belief is not so simple that I should cut out doubt from myself. I still struggle with step three, but that’s okay. Faith is stronger through doubt. That’s what Dad says anyway. I have to move forward, take an honest look at myself. The best I can, not on my own. I don't think I could any other way.
Jaime was no good for me. We are no good for each other. Our puzzle pieces fit together in all the wrong ways. She fed my pride, I fed her vanity. I shouldn’t have gone looking for her. I know I have to write this next part out, I’m gritting my teeth just thinking about it.
When I had found her a few days after I got out. She was in her dorm. I texted her, she had said to come in. She tried to explain why she had not visited. That I scared her when I had OD’ed the first time. She was sorry, supposedly. I gave in, forgave her. It might have been after we made up, or during. But she had offered me some oxy, I said no at first. She pushed, I gave in, again.
What was I thinking? Honestly, I still hadn’t been sleeping well. I thought just a little to take the edge off would help me get through my sobriety. Does that make sense? No. But trying to see logic when you’re addicted is like trying to see through stained glass. Everything is distorted.
I didn’t immediately OD. After two days with Jaime, I was on a proper bender. Embarrassing. My tolerance was shot. When I did OD, she drove me to the hospital and left me there. That’s done I guess.
I’m an idiot. That’s my inventory. I took my parents for granted. I’m vane and obsessive. Proud and ignorant. Terrible combinations. But I’m also lucky. How many others don’t make it past their first OD, let alone two.
Dr. Martin says it isn’t some moral failing that I relapsed. She says the majority of people do. I have to try really hard to believe that. The truth is I never really wanted to be sober. Not then. Now, I know. I don’t really have a choice. I can’t do this anymore.
October 12th, 2014
I printed out these pages for you to show you that everyone fails sometimes. You think I’m some superhero because I’m a year sober. I can’t think about it like that. I’m just one day sober. Tomorrow I’ll be the same. I’m still shocked you wanted me as your sponsor, I’m grateful to you, but also I look up to you. I wish I was as smart about it as you’re being.
Sobriety isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. You have to take care of it like a garden. Trim out the things that are choking out the life trying to grow. It’s not easy, I know. But if I can, you can too. Just one day at a time. Call me when you finish reading it, then we can meet up and go over it.
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