Two, Two, Two

This is a long read. I hope you can get through it all, but just in case, there is a TL;DR at the end.

 

It’s taken me a while to get to the point where I could fully talk about what’s been going on the last couple of months. As usual, I was open the entire time on social media, but not detailed or thorough. Just the occasional post about where I was and how it was going. Using social media too much is a fault of mine, but one I hope is useful to others who may find themselves in the same positions I was in.

 

I found myself in positions I had been in before, just a different mix of circumstances at the time. Ones where I was kicking myself for getting back into after all these years. I thought I had gotten past that point in my life where things had gotten unmanageable. Although I could see all the signs if I had just taken a step back to see the fall. The signs were glaring after the fact.

 

I hadn’t been to a meeting in close to a year. I hadn’t had a sponsor in close to that amount of time either. I only ever got past Step One in the program, ever. I stopped seeing my friends, I stopped calling people, and didn’t return their texts or calls often. Mania had set in, and my impulse control was gone; I added a new puppy to my life as an example of that poor judgment. My marriage had been on the wire for a very long time and fighting was nearly every day, over a lot of unresolved behavior on both our parts. One of those fights became the final straw for me. The one thing I could blame it all on. I had been harboring reservations for quite a while.

 

That night after the fight I sat in my car after work after thinking about drinking all day. I was next door to Kroger’s, and they sold wine. So, I sat there for nearly an hour texting back and forth with my husband and my best friend, for which I was supposed to be his best man in his wedding a few days later, for nearly an hour before I decided to go in and buy the bottle. After I got it, I sat in the car for another hour but this time with the open bottle in front of me as I smelled the wine. A smell I’ve missed.

 

After getting enough of the smell I drove home and sat in my driveway for a bit before finally deciding to take that first drink in over three years. Oh yeah, it was three years in between my last drink and now. After three years I decided to say goodbye. I don’t care what anyone says, I threw away that time. I got a case of the fuck it and paid the ultimate price. I reset my entire count again. And I’m one for collecting streaks.

 

My husband begrudgingly put up with my nonsense that night. He let me drink because he didn’t know if there was another option. My husband had never seen this in me before. I’ve been clean the entire time I’ve known him. I had convinced myself that if he could do the things he did, I could surely drink. I think that was a big part of him letting me get a pass that night. I finished that bottle and woke up with a hangover the next day and had to deal with that at work.

 

I woke up with a hangover the next day and had to face the real world I had cornered myself into. I had to deal with that the next day at work. There’s no real coming back once you make that decision. Hangovers aren’t a lesson for me though. It’s just part of the process of being an addict. A symptom I would just manage like the heartburn that’s associated with my medications. I knew there would be consequences for this. However, as a real addict, I wasn’t about to stop. I was going to let my experience of being untrustworthy and having conniving ways let me continue this journey. That’s when I used my advantage of my husband not knowing what to look for to feed this latest relapse.

 

I stayed drunk for about two weeks before I knew something had to be done. During those two weeks, I was sneaking away to the liquor store while my husband was at work and Mom was just living her life not knowing I had relapsed yet. I was hiding booze in the sock drawer, under the bed, hidden in the bathroom vanity, anywhere I thought I could get away with it. I would have a drink before I went to sleep, have a drink as soon as I got up, and snuck away to the bathroom to drink. It was any chance I could get. Going outside to throw up so no one would hear me and so I could make room for me. I convinced myself that because I wasn’t drinking and driving somehow it was better. With that thought I finally decided it was time to get help.

 

I knew I needed help beyond what I could do for myself because if I were left to my own devices, I would surely have given in to other indulgences and substances. I also knew where this path would lead having been to rehab three times before. So, after hiding those bottles, taking showers before my husband got home, popping breath mints like my life depended on it, listening to the most depressing music I could find (I had been building playlists that I would listen to if I were to relapse again, I planned for this shit), and chasing all my drinks with something else to mask the smell… It was time.

 

I talked to my husband about it, and I decided to go ahead and pull the trigger on going to rehab here in Nashville. A friend of mine helped pull some strings to get me into the facility close to home. That decision led to me checking into that rehab the very next day. We were both caught off guard because I forgot how quickly that happens, and especially for him because he had no idea how any of this worked. Then I started to realize I had affected him too. I never thought I would have to have those discussions with him, so I never prepared him for it. I had to explain how the process worked and the next steps. I also had to take into consideration that he was going to have to live the life of two people while I went away for a while. It was a lot to process and expect of someone else. So, he has just been going with the flow of this entire process. I was still so wrapped up in my own shit that I hadn’t really thought of how I had affected multiple people with that.

 

Amazingly he stepped up and showed so much support compassion and empathy. He deservedly had anger and confusion, but he did his best to understand that this was something I needed to do, not just for me, but for us as well. Another thing I wasn’t thinking about was how my mother was going to take this. She moved in with us last summer. She has seen me go to rehab twice at this point. She knew about the first time, but this was too much for her. In the mix of all the confusion and relapse, she decided to move out because she didn’t want to continue to live with me and my husband constantly fighting, but also didn’t want to watch this happen again. I don’t blame her, but it did hurt.

So we got me into this local treatment facility. I drank a ton before I went. I manipulated my husband into letting me drink more. I had him convinced they wouldn’t let me in unless I blew a certain BAC. So I checked in with a .11. They let him sit in on the entire intake process. He was patient, more patient than I think I ever could have been in his position. I quickly became aware of the issues of this facility. They never checked on me past a couple of Q15s. I was never even put on detox meds. The nurses consistently messed up my meds, I have always been a stickler and very cautious about my meds, so this sent me off the edge.

The other thing that became very clear is that this was not a detox/addiction rehab program. It was very much a facility for younger people with severe mental diagnoses. I gave it a shot, but they continued to mess up my meds and I wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen. I decided to AMA (against medical advice) and go home.

I spent the next two weeks at home. I was spending as much time to drink. I kept the same habits and hid it from my husband. He had no idea. It took me two weeks to realize I shouldn’t be doing this alone. So, I reached out again and was able to secure a place in a new treatment facility. This time a long way from home. I was headed to Las Vegas. My husband felt very betrayed this time because I said I was working on it on my own and would do whatever it took to get clean again. Meanwhile, I was back to sock drawers and breath mints. Again, the process was very quick. I was due for a flight the very next day. Same deal, I drank everything I had left before I got to the airport. The goodbye this time was harder than before because I had shown my true addict side and given him no reason to trust me this time around. However, he showed up for me and got me to that airport.

 

This was my moment to shine though… In my eyes. I was already drunk getting to the airport that early afternoon. I went to two bars while I was there and got double at both. On the flight there I got a double. When I got off the flight, I stopped at two more bars and got two more doubles. I was gonna go out with a bang this time. No one was there to stop me. By the time the facility had someone pick me up, I blew a .14 BAC during intake. This time I was put on a taper. I knew I was going to get the help I needed while I was there.

 

The first two weeks were hellish. I don’t detox very well. A side of me comes out and I lash out at people, I convince myself, and others, that I shouldn’t be there. I find any out that I can. I had myself and my husband was convinced that I would be coming home at two weeks. The facility knew that wasn’t going to happen and if I chose to leave it would be another AMA. I eventually got my shit together and instead of counting the days down, I started counting the time they would give me. I fought for every day they would give me. I am so grateful for them not giving up on me, but I’m even more grateful that I was able to get to a point where I didn’t want to give up.

 

This 5th time in treatment was my best go at it. I was able to dig down deep and find a part of me that really wanted this change. This place was great, and I met so many people whose stories are a part of me now. The staff was equally as important to me. I was treated with kindness even though I had started out a terror, then I was supported and guided by those same staff through the rest of my stay. The groups and activities I attended during my time there were enlightening and opened me up to see things I was blocking out before.

The time I got to spend with the other clients was probably some of the most formative times this go round. I sat down and listened to their stories and shared mine when given the chance. I related with people like me who shared this same disease. There were some positive and spiritual moments for me too, like hiking up a mountain and seeing the whole of Las Vegas. It reminded me of the times I went skydiving. I saw the world from a new perspective. I also took the initiative to lock down a sponsor and I wrote my entire First Step out while I was there. Feeling inspired to do that was a great moment these last couple of months.

That’s not to say this most recent trip to rehab wasn’t free of its ups and downs. I struggled a lot there. I was missing home; I was having to face parts of myself I didn’t want to and had to learn how to have some structure. There were tears shed, tense moments, and confronting homophobia and toxic masculinity. But I learned to speak up and advocate for myself. I had to lean into that discomfort and become assertive in positive ways. Most of those moments were successful, but you can’t reach everybody.

 

Now it was time to head back home. I felt like I wanted to stay in rehab because it was safe, consistent, and structured. I was afraid of applying everything I learned to the real world. It’s crazy to think how I didn’t want to be there early on, to complete an entire forty-five-day program.

 

My first test about being in treatment anymore was being in an airport. Airports are drinking sprees for me. I stop at least twice at a bar every time I’m in an airport. When I got to the airport, I passed by all the bars and went and sat still in my seat at my gate. I stayed focused on my phone and had my back to everything. Now it was time to get on the plane and head back. Same deal, I stayed focused and read the Basic Text the entire trip. Now back home in Nashville, the trip through the airport got dicey. First, because I was tempted because I had no one watching me and could do whatever I wanted. The next thing I did was test myself. If you have seen A Million Little Pieces you know what was next.

 

I stopped at a bar and sat there for a few minutes. My husband was waiting at baggage claim. I ordered a drink from the bar. My favorite is vodka soda double. I was shaking as she made the drink and gasped when she sat it in front of me. I wanted to test everything I just went through. I held it, looked at the bubbles, and took a deep breath to smell it. I didn’t take a drink, I sat it back down and walked out of the airport. I wanted to make sure I could put the work to use. It was a stupid move, and I don’t recommend it to anyone, regardless of how far along you are in your clean time. I decided I was ready.

 

When I sat back and accepted my position in life in those moments, I was able to learn, grow, and move forward thriving. I was filled with this newfound hope and excitement. I am early in my recovery, but with the right moves going forward, I can stay clean just for today. It’s all I have promised to me. Living in the past and future do me no good, they both hold me back from what I need today. So just for today I will not take that drink or consume that substance. Today I have my lie in front of me and can do anything.

Two months, two treatment centers, and two choices left. Two months of absorbing a lot of information to use in my daily life. Two treatment centers to get away from the real world learn to be me and understand my disease doesn’t define me or control me anymore. Two choices; keep moving forward without addressing my addiction and continue to use or move forward putting my recovery first above all else and be able to give what’s left to the world around me.

 

So here’s to me doing my best each day to stay clean and have a fulfilling life.

 

TL;DR: I relapsed, spent two months in treatment, got better, and now I’m putting the stuff I learned to work. You really should read the post, it’s much better than a couple of sentences.