48. The Beginning of the End Pt. 2
The events that unfolded on December 16th, 2019, forever changed the trajectory of my life. Two days into a challenging detox from alcohol and Benzodiazepines, I grappled with severe withdrawal symptoms—cold sweats, shaky hands, upset stomach, etc. The detox from both of those substances is BRUTAL. Imagine having the flu and then amplifying that miserable feeling fiftyfold and you will get a taste of what withdrawing from these drugs feels like. From experience, I knew it would only be 2-3 days more before I would begin feeling better.
Anticipating a brief detox, fate took a drastic turn when I experienced a life-altering fall. What was meant to be a short-term detox quickly transformed into an extended hospital stay lasting over a month. An evening trip to the bathroom ended abruptly with a seizure, causing me to collapse, with my head bouncing off the porcelain toilet. Awaking amidst a cluster of nurses shining lights in my face, my attempts to stand up revealed an immobilized lower body—my brain-to-feet “connection” was disrupted, resulting in a diagnosis of temporary leg paralysis. Alone and defeated in my hospital room, the notion of never walking again at the age of twenty-seven weighed heavily. The initially brief detox evolved into an arduous month of rehabilitation, where doctors and therapists guided me through the intricate process of essentially relearning how to walk.
During this journey, the absence of my drug dealer and the “friends” I had been using drugs with became starkly apparent. My true friends I grew up with were the ones to show up and check in on me. They had distanced themselves from me for some time because they couldn’t bear to stand around and watch me kill myself with drugs and poor decisions. My immediate family, who had witnessed firsthand the toll of my addiction, were able to visit during this hospital stay. A moment of clarity struck one night when the stark reality hit me—I was trapped in a hospital, possibly paralyzed, and facing monumental legal troubles while my friends were busy celebrating milestones of marriage, parenthood, and career advancements. Meanwhile, I was barely able to go to the bathroom on my own.
One day, a visit from my mother highlighted the far-reaching impact of my addiction beyond myself. Her worn appearance revealed the toll of endless worry. She had even taken out a life insurance policy on me—a sobering testament to the imminent danger I posed to myself. She quite literally spent every single night wondering if she was going to get the call that I was locked up again or worse, dead. I was so selfish to think my addiction was my problem, and only mine. I didn’t realize that it was far bigger than myself. My once-selfish perspective on my addiction crumbled as I realized the profound ripple effect my addiction had on those who cared about me.
Following my accident, the drug treatment court I was a participant in at the time issued a warrant for my arrest. Their proposition was clear: enter a drug treatment rehab, and the looming warrant would be lifted. Without hesitation, I embraced the opportunity and checked into a rehab immediately following my month-long hospital stay. My legs were still on the path to recovery. I left the hospital in a wheelchair and continued with physical therapy while in drug treatment rehab. Upon successful completion of the thirty-day program, I transitioned from a wheelchair to a walker, marking two months of sobriety bridging my hospitalization and rehabilitation. What initially appeared as the most dreadful event—the fall in the hospital—now, in hindsight, seems like a divine intervention that saved my life.
Reflecting on the saying that drug addiction leads to jails, institutions, or death, I had already encountered two of these outcomes. Death lingered as the only unexplored consequence, threatening to materialize if I succumbed to the urge to use drugs again. This journey, marked by its challenges, revealed itself as a profound turning point in my life, guiding me clear of the grim possibilities that once felt inescapable.
I am extremely grateful that the drug treatment court decided to give me another chance rather than throwing me out of the program and sending me to prison. They saw something in me that I did not see at the time. I had a whole new outlook on life and drugs weren’t a part of it. I would go on to complete the requirements of each phase of drug treatment court honestly and successfully. Those felonies I was initially charged with were dropped for a much lesser charge that does not affect my record as much.
Don’t get me wrong, every day of recovery isn’t easy. Some days are much harder than others. What I know now is that my worst day in recovery is far better than my best day using drugs. You see, for some, a night of drinking or drug use is a fleeting experience that ends promptly. Unfortunately, that's not the case for me and it never will be. When I use alcohol and drugs, I burn all my bridges and eventually experience a catastrophic, life-changing event as a result. I’ve tried using drugs every which way and it ALWAYS end the same way for me. I just can’t do it and lead a happy, functional life.
These days, I make sure not to forget my past. Someone once told me, “If you forget your past, you’re bound to go back.” That really resonated with me. I don’t dwell on the past; I simply reflect on it. If I can climb out of the pits of addiction, anyone can. It just takes some honest internal work on yourself. Your life will improve tenfold, I can promise you that.
If you’re struggling, or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope. If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be in the position I am today to help to spread awareness.
