Unpack the baggage

So, throughout this little writing endeavor, I continually decide what’s important to share.  Most of the time, this changes daily, and I prefer inspiration to lead the process.  And sometimes something keeps coming back. I wouldn’t say it’s a gnawing feeling, so much as I would call it a light rapping at the window of my better self.   That’s when I take a closer look at it, and question just what is revisiting me and why.  The window is transparent, and I can see what’s there, I just need a little time before I invite it in.  But I’m ready, so let’s get to it.

I wasn’t “one and done.”  If you are not familiar with this saying, let me educate you.  This phrase refers to those lucky individuals who have been to treatment once, made significant life changes, and never went back to their addictive behavior again.  That was not me.  And unfortunately, that is a rarity in the recovery world.  I don’t know the statistics involved, but I would venture to guess that of the people that have made it to that point (gone to rehab), by far, the vast majority will be back at least one more time.  Sometimes many, many times.  If this is a shock to many of you, it just points out the fact that the general public does not have crucial information regarding what actually occurs in addiction and recovery.  I understand why it’s surprising, because I too, didn’t have any knowledge of this until just a few years ago.  And additionally, I understand why this fact is so discouraging to both the addicted individual and those who love them.  But it’s a fact, ya’ll.  We may as well face it.  And even scream it from the mountaintops.  And this is just referring to those of us who have gone into formal treatment.  The relapse rate for ALL is……..horribly discouraging.  And to point it out with accuracy, only puts me in a negative mindset, so I’m going to charge you with finding out those figures for yourself.  They suck.  Pure and simple.  And I am already quite the minority figure in even making it to 10 months!

I do not let this information sway my current efforts in any way.  In fact, it only encourages me to be diligent in my recovery efforts, cognizant of my success thus far, and charged in my attempts to bring light to the reality of addiction in our society.  My own addiction was in full swing WELL before I had real and pertinent information regarding how addiction functions in our lives and worsens throughout time.

Throughout these posts, I’ve already told you some about the progression throughout the years, but I’d like to address the last few, specifically. 

About four years ago, I scared myself one day after drinking to the point of oblivion.  It most certainly was not the first time I did this, but it was scary enough for me to consider treatment.  At this point, I was divorced, alone without children 50% of the time, and was already supposed to have sworn off alcohol.  So….leading up to voluntarily entering rehab, I drank in the evenings when I didn’t have my children.  I didn’t go out with other single moms, partying it up and taking boobalicious selfies at the local happy hour joint.  I simply had at least a bottle of wine by myself after I came home from teaching in the afternoon.  It seemed perfectly reasonable to me at the time.  I wasn’t putting my children at risk, physically, and I wasn’t putting myself at risk for too much stupidity (like going home with some random dude who would make me feel better about being divorced and alone).  Of course, there’s so much irony in those statements now, because the risks were ever-so-present, and sat on the couch next to me the whole time, maybe even smothering me with the blanket that usually accompanied the couch potato drinking sessions.  Nonetheless, that’s what my schedule looked like when I came home from teaching when the kids were at their dad’s.  Day, after day, after day.  Then, one night near the end of the school year, I drank so much that I scared myself into a fateful realization.  The summer was about to arrive in about a week, and I truly didn’t trust myself to have 50% of the days, alone without children, and no daily teaching position to be accountable to.  I knew exactly what those days would look like, so I decided to put myself in rehab right after finals week. 

Yes, at that point, it was entirely possible to abstain from drinking for the next week while I had the children, get through finals week, and even drive myself to rehab.  Well, admittedly, I did have what I thought was my last hurrah the night before I left, but still, I was clean and sober while I drove a couple of hours away to my first stint in rehab.  You are first admitted to the detox facility, where I didn’t really have any major withdrawal symptoms for the next few days.  Medications weren’t given, at least as I remember it, and I was truly the only client awake and horribly bored with no company those three days.  That sincerely annoyed the other detox patients, and I was teased and told that I didn’t really belong there. 

I remember that 30 days, and I can’t say that I dismissed the education, counseling or my initial commitment to sobriety, but I CAN say that the entire treatment and recovery experience (though short-lived) was nothing like what I have experienced for the last 10 months. 

And I wonder why. 

Well, there were some crucial differences:

First of all, I had no clear and intentional after-care plan.  This is the plan that is put into motion once you return home, and can include continued counseling, 12-step meetings, or even sober living for a few months.  I simply went right back home to being a single mom, and being completely alone half of the time.  So…..it really didn’t take long before I drank again in solitude.  Maybe a couple of weeks.  I just started slowly, as if I now had the ability to control it in a different way.  Yep, that was the thinking.  Additionally, I hadn’t committed to AA in any way….having found problems with the program and simple annoyance in the presumption that attending these meetings would keep me sober.  AND, at that time, I had even decided that music was my “higher power,” and the rehab I attended didn’t even allow us to hear music or produce it in any way for the full 30 days…..so I have to say that I think I questioned just about everything coming from an institution that seemed to keep my higher power away from me. (I have since defined my higher power differently, but that’s for another day.  And, yes, music is sometimes seen as a “trigger” by some rehab facilities.  Oooooo, don’t get me started on that one!)

In the following three years, I tried to keep my drinking a secret from my close friends, my ex-husband, the kids, my parents, and pretty much all who knew me.  That is, if they knew of my past.  And I was more successful than you might imagine.  My parents didn’t really ask about my sobriety, because they didn’t want to offend me.  At least this is what I assume was the case.  And my kids never saw me drink or drunk, except for a couple of times when my teenage daughter came by the house unexpectedly.  Things would fall apart momentarily when this occurred, but I would minimize the lasting effects of our broken trust, making a renewed commitment to control the drinking even more.  Oh yes, and to hide it better.

When I first reunited with Mike (we grew up together), I told him of my history and even the rehab stint.  I did not lie, but it was easy to consider that the past drinking may have been circumstantial…..in that there had been major life events that often surrounded times when the drinking worsened.  Does that make sense?  There’s no easy way to explain that, but let’s just say that moving overseas with my family, surviving a broken marriage, and my son being involved in a major medical scare…..could have been seen as reasons why the drinking was worse during certain time periods.  Bear in mind, I did not slough off my drinking in this way when I explained my past to him…..but I think that’s how it was initially taken.  

But, it did not take him long to see that it was a current problem.  He continued to urge me to lessen my consumption and even stop drinking entirely.  And he wanted so badly for me to acknowledge that I was hurting myself.  I DO know now, that I was hurting much more and many more than myself, but he always focused on me.  He was kind in that way.

So, this last decision to go to rehab, came after my daughter came by the house another unexpected time.  That meant that her father was informed later, and he then told me that the kids would not be coming to my house for overnight stays…..for months. 

And I fell apart.  I didn’t fight him.  I just fell apart.  It took only weeks.

I didn’t want the Christmas holidays to be turmoil for the children, so I took what time he said I could have, made it through those days, and drank just about the rest of the Christmas break.   I can’t believe I pulled it together for the resumption of school, but I did.  Unfortunately, that meant that I went straight back into my teaching schedule (which now included nightly 5-hour rehearsals for the musical) and also the impossible and crazy attempt to keep my emotional self together.

Well, it didn’t take long to find out that no one can do that.  Not if they are a drinker.  There was no legal threat from my ex-husband, but I was too afraid to open that kind of revolt against his stipulations.  And I’m not sure I deserved to.  That’s questionable.  I know that fear during that time was more than I could handle on a daily basis, and I don’t think that I felt worthy to fight.

So, I almost think I let myself just sink into the inevitable.  It was self-defeating and self-sabotaging in every way.  I just waved a giant white flag at addiction, laid prostrate in the street, and succumbed to the beast that finally showed himself in the light.

That’s when I resigned from my teaching position, agreed to rehab, and went to La Hacienda in Hunt, TX.  My focus was quite singular.  I would make every effort to face the reality of my addiction, with honesty, willingness, and incredible attentiveness.

That continues today.

I know that there is a lot to talk about regarding how I did this, and just why it’s so incredibly different this time…but this has been a lot for today, folks. 

Just know that when I say I’ve got a history with this disorder, I truly mean it.  A whole closet full of albums and scrapbooks of remembrances left in its wake.  It will take awhile to unpack those memories, but I think it’s important to present a real picture.  Free from assumptions and incorrect information. 

It is what it is, and I accept all that has happened.  I am grateful that I have nothing but vivid and positive memories of the last 10 months, and I don’t know how I would ever give that up voluntarily in the future.  I can’t imagine doing that, but I don’t have to think about that.  I must only concentrate on today.  Thank God. 

Thank A LOT of people.  And thank Me, dammit.  I’ve worked fucking hard, and we all deserve to feel good about ourselves.  It’s been a long time coming. 

In the next writing, I'll try to unpack some of what is working for me now.  Even that is difficult to express and delineate.  There is much judgement in the recovery world, as if there's anything such as "the right way to do it."  

I know this.  What I'm doing is working for me, and no one can tell me otherwise.  I check in with my God and my better self everyday, and that's what they tell me.  

Have a great day, and create good memories for yourself and those around you.  I accept yesterday, but it can't be carried along in my purse all day, taking up space in my mind and heart.  I'd rather face the day with no baggage, barefoot and fancy-free.