I lay here in this hospital bed thinking what will become of my life now? It's now roughly 13 months since I first stepped into a rehab for my crack cocaine use and I'm looking at my third time in that span. In 2013 just about 5 years to the day prior I stepped into my first detox and rehab to battle my alcohol and heroin/opiate use. Certainly a story for another time, but that was the orientation and welcome process for the start of my recovery. Anyway...
My struggle over the last few years has been my powerlessness over crack cocaine and any drugs that can produce the euphoric feeling similar to that of crack. I not only love that feeling of the drug but also the added baggage you get when hitting psychosis that comes along with being up for days using. This drug has its claws firmly sunk into my very being and I had no desire to want to quit when I made my second attempt.
When I reached treatment on February 28th, 2019 it was the second time in nine months. To be honest and blunt I didn't know how to eat, drink, piss, fuck, sleep, talk, live and breath without the use of crack cocaine. I had lost everything I had at that point in my life, AGAIN... my job, my vehicle, my living space, my sanity and almost my life, as well as nearly killing my girlfriend that I felt was my everything, my ride or die. Yet I still wasn't ready to surrender and stop using. I still had the desire to keep using all that I could consume! The definition of insanity living in full bloom through me.
Now to backtrack a little bit let me talk about what led up to my first attempt at trying to arrest my drug use.
I first started on this road called "Recovery" back in May/June 2013 after a detox and rehab for alcohol and opiate use or actually, "abuse". I know today that I am an addict and cannot successfully use ANY mood or mind altering drugs. It took me a long time to realize that and I've since stopped trying to act like I'm not an addict. When I use today i know I only want more and don't stop using until what i have is completely gone.
In July of 2017 I relapsed while an overnight store clerk for a local truck stop off interstate 89 in Northern Vermont. I'm not quite sure where exactly things went wrong, they say your relapse starts before you pick up. I had everything going for me by outward appearances. Internally one of my major character defects, selfishness crept back in disguising itself with loneliness for, friendliness towards and other forms to capture my "love" or more appropriately obsession, for and need for approval from women. This would prove one of my most fatal flaws that still plagues me to this day 2 years after my relapse. If you've sat in enough NA (Narcotics Anonymous) meetings you'll know that alcohol is a drug (DUH!) from the reading "How It Works" read at the beginning of just about every NA meeting. Well my sick and twisted little comparison of "pussy is a drug" may sound disturbing but is 110% completely accurate! Like drugs, if one was good two was better carried over to how I needed my "romantic" life to be. Sadly enough and even with remorse I can honestly say that I've never been faithful to any woman in my life, EVER! That coming from a man who's been through 2 marriages and has 2 daughter's. You'd think somewhere along the line in my 43 years there'd be at least one that I respected enough not to subject to my selfish ways. Nope!, each one has just been another hostage. Given this realization and knowledge of self I can still try to argue why the suggestion of no dating, no women for the first year of recovery doesn't apply to me.
As Crack Cocaine became even more rooted into my daily routine, my physical functions of being human became even more dependent upon having the drug in both personal and social settings. I was unable to function without it. I ceased wanting to eat and lost 70 pounds in about six months. I ceased wanting to work and do things most people do. I couldn't shit, shower or shave without being high.
By the spring of 2018 the strain my use put on relationships, work and every other facet of my life boiled over to my physical well being and how my body responded in certain situations. Well I was so physically beat up from using that I ruptured my right bicep just "fucking" around wrestling with a buddy at work. Of course my addict thinking was like yeah let's blame it on work and get workman's comp. I couldn't even pull that off correctly at this point. So I came to the realization that I was at a bottom and rehab became the logical choice. I had hit the point of being sick and tired of being sick and tired!
The surgery takes place and then it's a waiting game to get cleared medically to be able to go to treatment. Since the closure of MapleLeaf I had no idea which of the 2 treatment facilities would be best for me. I chose to go to Valley Vista in Bradford, Vermont because a close friend in my NA homegroup had recommended it. I was completely surrendered and ready to get back to a life IN RECOVERY!
... To be continued
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