So I managed to meet a guy in treatment which breaks the cardinal rule of staying out of relationships for the first year. It's much easier not to focus on ones self when you have someone else around.
Now I can look back at what the real truth was when I left treatment for the second time. I still had a couple of secrets left that I didn't want to talk about. I figured if I ignored them long enough then they would just disappear. I also wasn't ready to fully surrender to my disease yet. There was still a tiny part of me that thought I was so unique I could maybe learn to use successfully.
The guy I met in treatment I knew had a crush on me, but we didn't begin dating until I was out of treatment and he was actually still in. He seemed really nice, but fresh out of treatment everyone is vulnerable.
We actually did go to meetings together quite frequently. Every once in while he'd be tired from work and suggest we just stay home and be lazy. Not a good move in early recovery either. You start thinking you're doing ok, and maybe you could skip more.
My dad pressured me into getting a job as a CNA. I reluctantly began searching for work as an aid, but deep down I had the sinking feeling it would be my demise. I did get a job through an agency filling in for people that were sick, or on vacation. At first I moved around so much I didn't have a chance to get into much trouble.
Then I took care aof a man with Lou Gehrig's disease in his home. He was at the end stages, and it was difficult to sit and essentially watch someone die. His wife was planning to take care of him a little while longer, and then possibly put him in a hospice house.
My parents were going to Minnesota, so I figured I'd get wasted and no one would be the wiser. (A pattern I often followed.) So I stole some of my patients Xanax, and went home that day to get high and have a few cocktails. I remember my boyfriend coming over after I had crushed and snorted some of the Xanax, and I remember having at least one drink.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital not knowing what the he'll was going on. I pulled out the IV and catheter, got dressed located my phone, called my boyfriend and said pick me up. Mind you I was still wasted. The hospital called the police in order for them to get me to stay, but they had no authority.
So the boyfriend took me home. I came to sometime later that afternoon with my parents standing over me asking me if I wanted to talk. Ridden with shame I declined. I still wasn't getting it. I ended up in the hospital because I passed out on the couch, vomited up blood and had a seizure. My boyfriend didn't know what to do since he had been drinking and called an ambulance.
I managed to keep my shit straight for a little while. My boyfriends neighbor or was on all sorts of narcotics, and wasn't shy about it. I managed to ignore it for so long before I stopped by and got a handful of Vicodin.
I started off occasionally using. I would have some Vicodin on the weekends, and manage to leave it alone while I worked. I thought I had things under control, but I'm an addict, and I was far from in control.......
Friday, September 16, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Treatment Round 2!
Koinonia was a lot different from the first facility I was in. For one I actually made the decision to go in myself, for two it was coed, and for three we were allowed caffiene and sugar.
It was difficult getting used to the routine. We were up everyday at 6:30 and had classes all day long. My room mate was awesome, we got along great! We were like two little kids at a slumber party, giggling into the night.
But treatment was far from fun and games at times. My counselor hated me from the start I was sure. And I found it difficult to open up. We had a very odd female group while I was in treatment. One of the girls monopolized most of the group time. Looking back I should've been more assertive, but live and learn.
I did work rather hard on some issues, but there were some I was just not going to let go of. I thought if I ignored them long enough they would just go away. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way, and secrets keep us sick. But being the stubborn addict that I am, I thought that somehow my situation was unique and I could get away with it.
We did do a lot of screwing around in treatment. At the time I thought I was taking everything so seriously, but I most certainly was not. We flirted with the guys, and in one case two individuals snuck off behind the shed one evening to get their groove on. Luckily I was gone when that all came out.
One guy was in there, I knew his sister from high school, so we developed a bond. We sat through family night every Thursday with our dads. My mom was not a good one for participating in my recovery. She was still under the impression that it was a phase. My dad did well though and my friends dad sort of adopted me. Good men, both of them. My dad and his friend diligently participated in the family program, and Alanon. My dad became less angry with me, and had a better understanding that I have a disease, not a moral defect. We actually began to communicate in a more healthy manor.
Then the day came for my room mate to go home, and I was sad. We had developed such a close bond. All I could do was hope she stayed clean. To this date I don't think she is. They put me with a new room mate right away. I was a little ticked off, but she proved to be a wonderful person as well. I just had it in my head at the start that no one could replace the first girl.
There was always sone drama with the females if course. There were two that hated each others guts, and fought like cats and dogs. For the most part we actually got along besides those two. I forget what the circumstances were entirely, but the situation came to a head one day and the one female got sent back to the jail.
I did get to travel a little bit while I was in treatment. I was lucky enough to go to Unity Jam, and Washburn. Two ca,pouts that were a blast. There was so much more to treatment than what I have written about already. I will continue this story, but looking back right now, I'm really not exactly sure what I got out of this treatment........
It was difficult getting used to the routine. We were up everyday at 6:30 and had classes all day long. My room mate was awesome, we got along great! We were like two little kids at a slumber party, giggling into the night.
But treatment was far from fun and games at times. My counselor hated me from the start I was sure. And I found it difficult to open up. We had a very odd female group while I was in treatment. One of the girls monopolized most of the group time. Looking back I should've been more assertive, but live and learn.
I did work rather hard on some issues, but there were some I was just not going to let go of. I thought if I ignored them long enough they would just go away. Unfortunately life doesn't work that way, and secrets keep us sick. But being the stubborn addict that I am, I thought that somehow my situation was unique and I could get away with it.
We did do a lot of screwing around in treatment. At the time I thought I was taking everything so seriously, but I most certainly was not. We flirted with the guys, and in one case two individuals snuck off behind the shed one evening to get their groove on. Luckily I was gone when that all came out.
One guy was in there, I knew his sister from high school, so we developed a bond. We sat through family night every Thursday with our dads. My mom was not a good one for participating in my recovery. She was still under the impression that it was a phase. My dad did well though and my friends dad sort of adopted me. Good men, both of them. My dad and his friend diligently participated in the family program, and Alanon. My dad became less angry with me, and had a better understanding that I have a disease, not a moral defect. We actually began to communicate in a more healthy manor.
Then the day came for my room mate to go home, and I was sad. We had developed such a close bond. All I could do was hope she stayed clean. To this date I don't think she is. They put me with a new room mate right away. I was a little ticked off, but she proved to be a wonderful person as well. I just had it in my head at the start that no one could replace the first girl.
There was always sone drama with the females if course. There were two that hated each others guts, and fought like cats and dogs. For the most part we actually got along besides those two. I forget what the circumstances were entirely, but the situation came to a head one day and the one female got sent back to the jail.
I did get to travel a little bit while I was in treatment. I was lucky enough to go to Unity Jam, and Washburn. Two ca,pouts that were a blast. There was so much more to treatment than what I have written about already. I will continue this story, but looking back right now, I'm really not exactly sure what I got out of this treatment........
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