“We admitted we were powerless over DRUG’S – that our lives had become unmanageable.”

Posted: May 14, 2013 in Uncategorized

Step One:

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When I first entered the room I thought I was humble enough to admit defeat. This first step, I thought, was to be the easiest. 

 I’d woken up early that morning, around 9 or 10, to go have coffee with a friend. It had been roughly four days since my last fix. The hebejeebies had just start to creep in. I was nausous and shaky, to name only the physical symptoms. Those, however, were nothing compared to the mental anguish I was experiencing. 

I don’t really recall making a decision to stop using. I didn’t sit down the previous Sunday and say to myself, “Okay, get your crap together.”. Nor did I do that the next day. To this day I don’t know what caused me to pick up that phone and ask for help that Thursday. Some might say it was God. Some might say it was  the friend I was having coffee with and will ultimately start a relationship with. Some might say I’d just had enough. Whatever the case may be a decision was made to start a new life. 

Thursday was the day I had been dreading. This would be the first full day off of work I would have since my last use. A whole day without a single plan. Just a junkie alone with his thoughts. A very toxic enviroment indeed. 

At the time I was living in an efficiency apartment in downtown Port St. Joe. I was literally across the street from the Drug’s. To call it an apartment would be a stretching the truth, it was essentially a bedroom that I had crammed into it what little I had to show for my 30 years of exsitence. Various knick-knacks. A vast collection of books that I’d had only the first 20 pages read out of each. Perpetually closed blinds with a thick coating of dust. Sheets marred with cigarettes burns, each one showing a time I got so high I passed out with a lit cigarette in hand. A mini fridge stuffed with every condiment imaginable, along with food I’d bought on a whim and would eventually go bad before I could muster up the energy to cook it. An ashtray on top of my nightstand filled to the brim with cigarettes. A draw in the nightstand filled with past due bills from collection agencies, a small plate with a straw and an old debit card that I used to chop up & snort my adderal. An empty pill bottle that I carried my methadone/ Hydro’s around in. Everything in that room represented unmanageability.

Was my life unmanageable?

Was I powerless? Not quite.

After coffee, I was off to my room to unwittingly make a life altering decision. 

I had decided the day prior I wanted to talk to someone about quitting. I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to quit, just that I wanted to talk to someone about quitting. At first I wasn’t sure were to turn. So the first call I made was to Life Management to make an appointment with a mental health professional  At the time I just wanted different pills to help me stop taking those other pills. After setting the appointment I thought I could just relax and take the day easy. Not the case. 

It’s still tough for me to describe in detail what obsessing about pill’s is like without inadvertently obsessing about dope. I still find it difficult to get too in detail about my story thus far without a faint desire to use but after getting off the phone with the secretary at Life Management I slipped deep into an obsession. I starred blankly at the television at it flickered, chain smoking and steadily thinking about Pain pill’s. I fought such a battle within my neurosis I became sick to my stomach. I was certain I was going to have a panic attack. I became so over wrought with emotion it literally scared me. 

“Just take a few to calm your nerves, you don’t have to get high!” is what it would tell me. Just enough to get me by is all it needs. Just enough to keep it alive and well. 

All my connections were still in my phone. My contact list had become a whos who of  opiate’s dealers and Pill head’s. I wanted to talk to someone, but who?? I needed someone that I could scream HELP ME to at the top of my  lungs!! I picked up the yellow pages and under addiction treatment there it is, the number for your local Rehab.

I called and was immediatly put in contact with someone. I won’t give his name, since that whole Anonymous issue, but he played a crucial role in my survival that day by simply being there. By staying on the phone and listen to me anxiously ramble as I literally walked in circles around my room he stopped me from picking up another one. My life changed after that phone call. I came to the crossroads and picked the rockier road. I went to a meeting that night and continued going for some time before I had become disillusioned but make no mistake about it, Rehab & god helped save my life. It gave me a purpose and a direction when I was useless and lost and I for that I am forever grateful. 

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