65. More Journals From Rehab Pt. 2

During my time in rehab, I committed to keeping a daily journal—a space where I could pour out my thoughts, struggles, and reflections as I faced the challenges of recovery head-on.  Writing became a vital outlet for me, helping me process the rollercoaster of emotions that came with detox and healing.  These passages reflect the highs and lows of my journey, from the depths of withdrawal to moments of clarity and growth.  Each entry is a raw reflection of my battle with addiction and my determination to rebuild my life.  Please keep in mind that I was fresh off a relapse when these entries were written, so my thoughts may not be as clear or organized as usual.  What you’ll find here is raw, honest, and deeply personal—my unfiltered experience of trying to piece my life back together.

Day 3 – Detox (05/24/2024)

Last night was another rough one.  I managed to get a little more sleep than the previous nights, but still nowhere near enough to feel functional.  My body’s exhausted, yet my mind won’t stop racing. Today, I start tapering off both Methadone and Valium—Methadone to help ease the heroin and fentanyl withdrawals, and Valium to calm the alcohol and benzo cravings.  They help, but this detox is brutal.  My body feels like it’s fighting itself, and I just keep wondering how I ended up here again. It’s so hard, and I’m desperate for the moment when I can finally say, "I feel better."  I just want to breathe without this weight on my chest, without my limbs feeling like they’re filled with lead.

I’m supposed to "roll over" into rehab soon, meaning they’ll consider my detox finished, and I’ll officially be in the program.  I’ve decided I’m staying, no matter what.  I just hope my insurance covers the full 28 days.  That part makes me anxious because I know it's out of my control, but worrying about it doesn’t make it any easier to push away.  It feels like I’m holding my breath, waiting to see if I’m given enough time to actually start healing.  It’s exhausting to always feel like my future’s hanging by a thread I can’t control.

This morning, I was able to keep my breakfast down, which felt like a small victory.  I have a new roommate for the next few days, but we don’t talk much—we’re both going through our own hell.  I’m really hoping for a single room when I get to rehab.  It sounds like such a small thing, but those rooms have warm showers, and the communal ones barely get lukewarm.  Plus, my OCD kicks in hard if I end up with a roommate who’s messy.  Whether  I get a single or not, I’m going to make the most of this.  I have to.  I don’t have any other option anymore.

I spoke to my friend last night, and it helped, but I’m nervous to call my mom.  She’s so angry with me, and I understand why.  I’ve let her down time and time again.  I want so badly to make her proud, to prove I’m someone she can trust, but how can I ask for trust when I’ve shattered it so many times?  I don’t even know if I deserve it.  Maybe I never will.  But I’m trying—God, I’m trying.  I wish she could see that, but I also know that my trying doesn’t undo all the damage I’ve caused.

Weekends here are quiet, not as many groups, which leaves a lot of time to think.  Maybe too much time.  I watch TV, read, work on little crafts, and try to keep to myself.  The other patients seem nice enough, and for once, everyone here seems like they actually want to get better.  That’s not always the case.  I’m the youngest one here.  It feels surreal, looking at these older men and women, hearing their stories.  They’re some of the smartest people I’ve ever met, battling demons just like mine.  It makes me feel dumb sometimes, but I know that’s just the addiction talking.  That voice in my head that tells me I’m not enough, that I’m too broken. I’ve heard it so many times that it’s hard not to believe.

It’s sad, really, how comfortable I feel in rehab.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been through this program.  Fourth? Fifth?  It’s all a blur.  I was lying in bed last night, thinking about Chris, about the pain I felt after losing him, and how that pain nearly drove me to follow him.  I’m grateful I came here instead, that I chose life in the face of all that pain but it doesn’t make it easier.  The guilt eats at me.  There are so many people who love me, who would be devastated if they lost me.  When I’m using, I don’t think about any of that.  I don’t think about the consequences.  I’ve always been like that—impulsive, careless.  My mom tells me that all the time, and she’s right.  I don’t stop to consider the damage until it’s too late.  I wish I could change that part of me, and I hope rehab gives me the tools to finally break free of it.

I can’t believe I’m back here.  I had it all together—working out every day, picking up new hobbies, loving my job.  Now, I don’t even know if I’ll still have that job when I get out.  That thought crushes me.  I wasn’t perfect, but I was doing well and now, I’m right back at the bottom, wondering if I’ll ever really get better.  Wondering if I’ll ever feel normal again.  I just don’t want to disappoint everyone again.

I want to be okay.  I want to live a simple life.  To make the people I care about proud.  I wish I didn’t need drugs to feel “normal.”  I wish my mind didn’t default to escape every time life gets hard. Maybe tomorrow will be better.  I really hope so because I don’t know how many more “starting over” moments I have left in me.

Rehab is such a strange, surreal place.  It’s one of the only places where you can walk into a room full of complete strangers, lay bare your deepest, darkest secrets—the things that haunt you, that you’re terrified to say out loud—and no one judges you for it.  Instead of disgust or pity, you’re met with understanding, even empathy, because they’ve all been there, too.  It’s like this unspoken bond forms between everyone, no matter how different our lives outside may have been.  We’re all broken in our own ways, all here trying to piece ourselves back together.  That kind of vulnerability, shared openly, makes rehab feel like a refuge, even though the pain we carry with us is so heavy.

Even though I feel absolutely terrible, today wasn’t all that bad.  It had its rough moments, but I got through it, and that’s something.  I’m holding on to that small bit of progress, hoping that tomorrow brings more of the same, maybe even a little better.  It’s hard to stay optimistic when every part of me feels worn out, but I’m learning that even in the worst of times, there are these small victories.  I’ll take whatever I can get and just pray that tomorrow gives me a bit more strength.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

64. Journals From Rehab

During my time in rehab, I committed to keeping a daily journal—a space where I could pour out my thoughts, struggles, and reflections as I faced the challenges of recovery head-on.  Writing became a vital outlet for me, helping me process the rollercoaster of emotions that came with detox and healing.  These passages reflect the highs and lows of my journey, from the depths of withdrawal to moments of clarity and growth.  Each entry is a raw reflection of my battle with addiction and my determination to rebuild my life.  Please keep in mind that I was fresh off a relapse when these entries were written, so my thoughts may not be as clear or organized as usual.  What you’ll find here is raw, honest, and deeply personal—my unfiltered experience of trying to piece my life back together.

Day 1 – Detox (05/22/2024)

Last evening, I made the difficult decision to check myself into detox at Bon Secours Hospital in Port Jervis, New York.  Saying I feel defeated doesn’t even begin to cover it.  I’ve let myself down and, more painfully, I’ve let down so many people who care about me.  My family is devastated, and they have every right to feel that way.  I should have asked for help.  There are so many people who would have dropped everything to support me, but instead, I turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the deep pain I’ve been carrying since the loss of my best friend, Chris.

I’ve been struggling with immense guilt since his passing.  We were inseparable growing up, and we used alcohol and drugs together for years.  I can’t shake the thought—if we hadn’t used together, would he still be here today?  This guilt has been eating away at me, and I allowed it to lead me down a path I know too well.  I have so much going for me, and it feels like I’ve thrown it all away in one moment.  But I know it’s possible to reclaim my life—I’ve had long periods of sobriety before.  I can achieve that again.

When I arrived at detox, I planned to stay only for that portion, but after a night of reflection,  I’ve decided to stay for rehab as well.  I need time to clear my head, to look within, and to make the changes necessary so I never end up in this position again.  I owe apologies to my family, my friends, my coworkers, and so many others.  The weight of letting so many people down is overwhelming, and I know that right now, my words don’t carry much meaning.  I have to show them my commitment through my actions.

I don’t know if I’ll be forgiven, and I can’t blame anyone if I’m not.  I’ve hurt people deeply, including my mother.  When I spoke to her last night, she said something that shook me to my core: “You are destroying me.”  Hearing her say that, with tears in her voice, made me realize just how much pain I’ve caused.  I never meant to hurt her—or anyone.  I just don’t want to feel this pain anymore.  I’m tired.  I’m tired of hurting people.  I’m tired of letting people down.  I want to make my family proud.

Right now, I’m going through a medical detox, with medications to help ease the withdrawal symptoms.  Even so, I feel sick as a dog—cold sweats, dry heaving with nothing left to throw up, restless legs, and crippling anxiety.  It feels like the worst flu I’ve ever had, multiplied by ten.  I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself.  This pain, this suffering—it’s all self-inflicted.  I just want to find peace, to be happy without needing substances to numb my feelings.

I know this is going to be a long journey, but I’m ready to take the next step.

Day 2 – Detox (05/23/2024)

Last night was brutal.  I’m in full-blown withdrawal, and when the nurses came in to tell me it was time for breakfast, it felt like I had only slept for ten minutes the entire night.  I dragged myself to the shower, hoping for some relief, but the water wasn’t even close to warm.  That cold shower was a harsh way to start the day.  I tried eating breakfast, but I could barely keep it down.  The food here is actually pretty good, but when you’re deep in withdrawal, it doesn’t matter.  I threw it up within minutes.  The only thing I can stomach right now is diet ginger ale mixed with cranberry juice.  I really hope I start feeling better soon.

Despite how awful I’ve been feeling, I’ve made it to all of today’s group sessions.  I’m determined to give this rehab stay everything I’ve got.  I can’t keep doing this to myself.  It sounds cliché, but I feel like I’m knocking on death’s door—and sooner or later, someone’s going to answer.  That realization hit me hard today.  I initially thought I’d just stay for detox and follow up with outpatient care, but that’s not going to be enough.  I’ve decided to stay for rehab, no question about it.

As for what comes after rehab?  I’m not sure.  Part of me doesn’t want to go into a long-term program, even though I might need it.  I’d love to go home, be with my family, and see my dog, Bumpy.  Summer is starting, and the thought of being stuck in rehab during it is hard to accept.  But I also know I’m not in the right headspace to make that decision now.  I need to let my body flush out all the alcohol and drugs before I can think clearly about what’s next.

I wish I had been stronger, that I hadn’t picked up and used again.  I hate the position I’ve put myself in... again.  I’m so disappointed in myself, and it’s hard not to feel downright depressed.  I’m on medication for depression, but it doesn’t work when I’m using.  Right now, I just feel lost—mentally and emotionally drained.  The mental pain is almost unbearable, but I’m trying my best to push through it.

I know my words don’t carry much weight anymore.  I’ve said “I’m going to do better” before, but I haven’t followed through.  My dishonesty has hurt my credibility, and I get that.  Still, I need to try to get back on track and rebuild my life, piece by piece.  I really hope I can sleep better tonight; I need the rest.  This is going to be a long, hard road.  I’ve been down it before, but I’m not sure if I can do it again.  Still, I’ve got to be strong, for myself and for the people who love me.  I’m going to fight like hell to get back to where I was before this relapse.

There’s no doubt it’s going to be difficult.  I’m prepared for that.  I’m going to take this time in rehab to reflect deeply on everything—on where I went wrong, what I need to change, and how to stay on this path for good.  I hope I can make it work this time.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

63. Returning Home After Substance Abuse Treatment

On September 1st, I successfully completed my treatment at Odyssey House, located in the Lower East Side of New York City.  Returning home after completing substance abuse treatment is an experience filled with a mix of emotions—pride in my progress, excitement for what’s ahead, and, admittedly, a bit of nervousness about how I’ll navigate life outside the safety of rehab.  Having spent months in a structured environment, I now face the challenge of continuing my recovery journey in the “real world.”  One of the most important things that I’ve learned during my time in treatment is that recovery doesn’t stop when rehab ends.  It’s a lifelong commitment, and to stay on the path to sobriety, I need to be intentional about my actions and choices every day.  I want to share what has worked for me in staying on course after treatment.  These are the strategies I use to maintain my sobriety, including attending outpatient services, hitting the gym, and remaining vigilant against triggers like people, places, and things that could lead me back down the wrong path.

One of the first things I did after coming home was sign up for outpatient services.  I knew that I needed continued support to maintain the momentum I built in rehab, and outpatient programs offer just that.  Outpatient treatment provides a structured space where I can continue receiving therapy, attend group sessions, and work with professionals who understand addiction.  It allows me to stay connected to the tools I learned during inpatient treatment but within the context of my everyday life.  For me, attending outpatient services has been crucial in bridging the gap between rehab and the outside world.  It keeps me accountable and gives me a place to process any challenges I face now that I’m back in my normal environment.  Some days, I still struggle with urges, feelings of guilt, or anxiety, and having a consistent therapeutic outlet gives me an opportunity to work through those emotions in a healthy way.

The group therapy sessions in outpatient are particularly helpful. Hearing others share their stories reminds me that I’m not alone in this journey; there’s something powerful about supporting each other.  We celebrate our victories together and learn from each other's setbacks.  Outpatient care provides me with an ongoing sense of community that has become a pillar of my recovery.

A huge part of my recovery plan after rehab has been getting physically active again, and the gym has played a major role in that. I’ve found that working out doesn’t just improve my physical health; it also helps me stay mentally and emotionally balanced.  Going to the gym provides structure to my day and serves as a positive outlet for stress, which used to be one of my biggest triggers for substance use.

When I’m at the gym, I feel like I’m not just working on my body—I’m also working on my mind.  The routine of getting up and moving each day helps me stick to a healthy schedule, and it gives me a sense of purpose.  Plus, the physical benefits are undeniable: I sleep better, my energy levels are higher, and I’m building a body that I’m proud of, which ultimately does wonders for my self-esteem. There’s also something incredibly empowering about setting fitness goals and achieving them. Whether I’m lifting heavier weights, running a little longer on the treadmill, or seeing improvements in my endurance, these small wins remind me that I am capable of change and progress.  It’s not always easy, and there are most definitely days when I don’t feel like going, but every time I push through, I’m reminded of the strength I have to overcome challenges—both in the gym and in life. The gym has become more than just a place to work out; it’s part of my recovery routine.  It helps me focus on something positive, and on tough days, it’s a much-needed release.  Exercise has truly been a game-changer for me in maintaining both my sobriety and my mental health.

One of the most important lessons I learned in rehab is that addiction doesn’t go away once you stop using.  It’s a chronic disease, and staying sober requires constant vigilance.  I’ve come to understand that in order to stay on this path, I have to be mindful of the people, places, and things that can trigger cravings or lead me toward a relapse.  In active addiction, many of my relationships revolved around substance use.  It was tough, but I had to make the decision to distance myself from those people once I got out of rehab.  I realized that being around individuals who are still using or who don’t respect my sobriety is a direct threat to everything I’ve worked for. So, I’ve made a conscious effort to surround myself with people who support my recovery and who want to see me succeed.  Sometimes this has meant letting go of old friendships, but it’s been necessary for my well-being.

There are also certain places that I now avoid because they remind me of my past substance use.  Whether it’s the bar I used to frequent or the neighborhood where I spent most of my time using, I know that these environments are full of triggers.  Instead, I’ve sought out new places that support my sober lifestyle.  These places include the gym or a community center where I attend a support group meeting. Finding new, healthier spaces has helped me stay on track.

There are also certain things that can trigger memories of my old lifestyle.  Whether it’s certain types of music, specific routines, or even seeing particular items, I’ve had to become aware of how these “things” affect me emotionally. I’ve learned to either avoid them completely or, when I can’t, develop coping strategies to deal with the feelings they stir up.

A big part of staying vigilant is practicing mindfulness.  I try to stay aware of how I’m feeling at any given moment.  Am I stressed?  Angry? Lonely?  These emotions can lead me down a dangerous path if I don’t address them head-on.  Whether it’s through journaling, meditation, or simply talking things out with a therapist or supportive friend, I’ve found that being mindful of my emotional state is key to avoiding relapse.

Returning home after rehab has been a challenging but rewarding part of my recovery.  To maintain my sobriety, I’ve leaned on outpatient services for continued support, incorporated a healthy routine through exercise at the gym, and stayed vigilant against the disease of addiction by avoiding old triggers.  Each of these strategies helps me build a life I’m proud of—one that is grounded in my commitment to sobriety.  While the road ahead may not always be easy, I feel equipped with the tools and resources I need to stay on course.  Every day, I remind myself of how far I’ve come and what I’m capable of achieving.  Recovery is a lifelong journey, but I’m taking it one day at a time, confident that I can continue moving forward.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

62. Cutting People Out of Your Life for Sobriety

The journey to sobriety is an extremely challenging one, marked by a series of painful but necessary decisions.  Among the most heart-wrenching of these is the need to sever ties with certain individuals—people who have, at one point, held significant roles in our lives.  This act, which can feel similar to ripping out a piece of our soul, is often vital to breaking free from the grips of addiction.  While it may seem like an insurmountable task, the decision to cut specific people out of your life when striving to get clean and sober is not just important—it is crucial to your survival.

Addiction is often nurtured by the people we surround ourselves with, consciously or unconsciously.  Some of the bonds that weigh us down in our addiction are friends who share in our vices, partners who enable our destructive behaviors, or even family members who, out of misguided love, shield us from the consequences of our actions.  They tie us to a past filled with pain, regret, and self-destruction, making it nearly impossible to move forward.  These relationships may have once been built on love, camaraderie, or shared experiences, but when addiction takes hold, they become something else entirely.  They morph into a cycle of mutual destruction, where each person's pain and struggle feed into the others.  In this toxic dance, the line between friend and foe blurs, and what once brought joy now only brings despair.  To break free from addiction, we must break free from these bonds.  It is not a matter of rejecting the people we care about but of choosing our own lives over the relentless pull of addiction.  It is recognizing that some relationships, no matter how deep or long-standing, have become detrimental to our well-being.  And in this recognition lies the first step towards healing.

Cutting people out of your life is not an easy decision, nor should it be.  These are people who have been there in the darkest of times, who have shared in your highs and lows.  But as you begin the journey of sobriety, it becomes painfully clear that their presence, however comforting it may seem, is hindering your progress.  The emotional toll of severing these ties can be overwhelming.  There is grief in letting go of people who were once an integral part of your life.  There is guilt in knowing that your decision may hurt them, especially if they are struggling with their own demons.  And there is fear—fear of loneliness, of the unknown, and of losing a part of yourself.  Yet, within this pain lies the seed of transformation.  By letting go of those who no longer serve your higher purpose, you create space for new, healthier relationships to take root.  You begin to build a support system that uplifts and encourages you, rather than one that drags you back into the abyss.  And in doing so, you honor the commitment you have made to yourself to live a life free from the shackles of addiction.

Establishing boundaries is an essential part of the recovery process.  It is an act of self-preservation, a way of protecting yourself from the triggers that could lead to relapse.  Boundaries are not about punishment or rejection; they are about creating a safe space where you can heal and grow.  When you cut someone out of your life, it is not an act of cruelty, but of necessity.  You are not condemning them; you are choosing yourself.  You are acknowledging that, in this moment, your sobriety must come first, even if it means making difficult and painful decisions.  The power of boundaries lies in their ability to redefine your relationships. They allow you to interact with others from a place of strength, rather than vulnerability.  They give you the freedom to focus on your own recovery without the constant pull of negative influences.  And most importantly, they remind you that your well-being is worth protecting.

As you navigate the painful process of cutting people out of your life, it is important to remember that this is not the end of your story—it is the beginning of a new chapter.  In the space left behind by those you have let go, there is room for growth, healing, and new connections.  There is the opportunity to build a life that is grounded in sobriety, where the relationships you form are based on mutual respect, support, and love.  The people you meet on this journey will be different.  They will understand your struggles because they have faced their own.  They will celebrate your victories, no matter how small, and they will stand by you in times of weakness.  These are the people who will help you rebuild your life, piece by piece until you have created something beautiful and enduring.

In the end, the decision to cut specific people out of your life is an act of self-love.  It is a recognition that your life is worth saving, that your dreams are worth pursuing, and that your happiness is worth fighting for.  It is a declaration that you will no longer be defined by your past, but by the choices you make in the present.  Sobriety is a gift—a gift that you give to yourself every day that you choose to stay clean.  It is a gift that requires sacrifice, but one that offers the promise of a brighter future.  While the road to recovery may be long and filled with challenges, it is a road worth traveling.  For at the end of it lies the freedom to live your life on your own terms, free from the chains of addiction, and surrounded by the love and support of those who truly care for you.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

61. A Valuable Lesson Learned

It has been three months since I checked myself into rehab for substance abuse.  As many of you know, this isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been in and out of rehabs for years now.  I’m not boasting when I say that—it’s just the reality of my situation.  Relapse has played a huge part in my recovery journey.  I’m currently a patient in Odyssey House, a long-term residential treatment program in New York City.  I live in a large brownstone with forty other men who also suffer from drug and alcohol addiction.  These men range in age from as young as 19 to as old as 67 years old.

This past week, a new patient named John was admitted into the program.  Whenever new patients arrive, they wait in the front desk area before being assigned a bedroom in the house.  Since the room where we hold all our daily meetings is past the front desk, we almost always catch a glimpse of the new arrivals as they’re being checked in.  One morning, as I was heading to a group session, I passed by John during his check-in.  His clothes were worn and dirty, his hair and beard looked unkempt, and he carried only a small garbage bag that I assumed held his spare clothes.  At the time, I didn’t think much of it. In a place like Odyssey House, it’s not uncommon to see people come in with very little.  I quickly introduced myself to John, exchanged a few polite words, and continued on with my day, not giving him much more thought.  John went through the usual admission process, was assigned a room, and the week moved on.

On Thursday, Brother Theo, one of the cooks at Odyssey House, organized a barbecue for all the patients in the program.  There’s a small patio at the back of the building where we’re allowed to smoke, hang out, and enjoy some fresh air.  Brother Theo was grilling hamburgers and hot dogs for us, and with the weather being perfect, most of us decided to eat outside.  I was waiting in line, with John standing right behind me.  When it was my turn, I grabbed a hamburger and placed it on my plate.  Then, as I picked up a hot dog to add to my meal, I fumbled and dropped it onto the patio.

Instinctively, I bent down to pick it up, but before I could, John had already snatched it off the ground.  To my surprise, he ate the hot dog right there in what felt like three or four bites.  I stood there, completely baffled, unable to believe what I had just witnessed.  I chuckled and said, "What the hell are you doing, John?"  Brother Theo noticed the mishap and was about to give me another hot dog since mine had hit the dirty floor.  But John looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Kyle, if you had been where I’ve been, you’d understand."  His words hit me, but I didn’t fully process their weight at the time.  I just nodded, took another hot dog, and continued enjoying my meal and the company of the other patients.  It wasn’t until later that I began to really think about what John had said, realizing that his actions spoke volumes about the hardships he had faced and the depths of his hunger—both physical and emotional.

Later that night, I laid in bed thinking about what John had said.  It really hit me like a ton of bricks as I processed what he had said.  Living in close quarters with people from such diverse backgrounds has been eye-opening in ways I never expected.  Each man here has a story, a past filled with pain, and reasons for why they turned to substances.  Initially, it was easy to judge some of them, especially when their behaviors were triggering or reminded me of parts of myself I wasn’t proud of.  But as the days turned into weeks, I started to see beyond their actions and began to understand the deep wounds they carry.  It’s taught me the crucial lesson of putting myself in someone else’s shoes before making any judgments.

Understanding someone else’s struggles has made me realize that we all have different breaking points, different reasons for why we falter.  For many of us here, life has been a series of battles that we’ve lost more often than won.  In recognizing that each of us is fighting something, I’ve learned to replace judgment with empathy.  This lesson doesn’t just apply within the walls of Odyssey House—it extends to every aspect of life.  It’s easy to see someone’s actions and label them without knowing their story but when you take the time to step into their shoes, to try and feel what they feel, you gain a whole new perspective.

This shift in thinking has not only changed how I view the men around me but also how I view myself.  I’ve been harsh on myself for years, judging my failures and relapses as signs of weakness.  However, understanding that I, too, have been fighting battles has allowed me to start practicing self-compassion.  The same empathy I’ve learned to extend to others, I’m beginning to extend to myself.  It’s a slow process, but it’s helping me heal in ways I never thought possible.  That’s the real lesson here: before we judge, whether it’s others or ourselves, we should always take a moment to step into those shoes and try to understand the path that’s been walked.    

In my opinion, learning to put yourself in someone else’s shoes before passing judgment is one of the most valuable life lessons you can cultivate.  It’s a lesson in humility and compassion, teaching us that our perspective is just one of many.  We often don't have all the facts, and our assumptions can be misleading.  When we pause to consider what someone else might be going through or has gone through, we open ourselves up to a more nuanced understanding of their behavior.  This doesn't mean excusing harmful actions, but it does mean recognizing that everyone has their battles, and sometimes, those battles can explain why people act the way they do.  This shift in perspective can profoundly impact your relationships and interactions.  It fosters patience, reduces conflict, and builds stronger connections because people feel understood rather than judged.  Over time, practicing empathy in this way can change how you view the world, helping you become more forgiving and less quick to criticize.  The next time you're tempted to judge someone, pause and ask yourself, "What might this person have gone through, or be going through?"  It’s such a simple question, but it can lead to a deeper, kinder, more understanding way of interacting with others.

And remember, 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 able to spread awareness today.

60. Understanding Relapse

In last week’s column, I discussed in detail my latest relapse, which sadly occurred in early May.  Relapse in substance use disorders (SUDs) is a complex and often misunderstood component of the recovery process.  It refers to the return to drug or alcohol use after a period of abstinence.  I’m writing this from my bedroom at Odyssey House, a long-term residential treatment center in the Lower East Side of New York City, where I’ve been in treatment for a little over 50 days.  I’m devastated by my relapse, especially after accumulating nearly four years of sobriety.  I constantly find myself asking this question: How could this have happened?

Since getting clean back in 2020, I was able to repair many relationships that my drug use had destroyed and reclaim many material things I had given away due to my addiction.  I had completely turned my life around, so how did I end up back with alcohol and drugs—the very things that destroyed my life?

Relapse in substance use disorders is a complex concept.  No one is immune to it, no matter how far along they are in their recovery.  It is a part of many alcoholics’ and addicts’ recovery journeys.  However, there are those addicts who are fortunate and were able to get clean on their first attempt and never picked up a drink or drug again.  Unfortunately, I am not one of those people.  Relapse is a significant part of my story, with more occurrences than I can count.

As I mentioned earlier, I am absolutely devastated that I relapsed.  I often find myself sitting around and thinking about my relapse and how it led me to a treatment center in New York City in the middle of summer, my favorite time of the year.  As part of my ongoing commitment to my recovery, I had to make the decision to check myself into treatment.  It was not an easy decision, but it was a necessary one. I needed to confront my relapse head-on and get the help I so desperately needed.  Initially, I viewed my relapse as a huge failure and a sign of weakness. In many ways, it is, but it is important that I reframe this perspective.  Relapse can happen to anyone in recovery, regardless of their commitment and resolve.  Addiction is a chronic disease, characterized by periods of remission and potential recurrence of symptoms.  However, it is essential to remember that relapse does not equate to failure.  It can serve as a valuable lesson, offering insights into unaddressed triggers and the need for additional support.  Recovery is a lifelong journey, and each step, whether forward or backward, is an integral part of the process.  In the treatment center, I found a community of individuals who understand my struggle, offering a space of empathy and shared experiences.  This collective resilience and determination fortified my resolve to not only overcome my addiction but to grow from it.

Recovery from substance use disorders is not a linear process.  It involves multiple stages and can include periods of progress and setbacks.  For some, relapse is part of their recovery journey, providing opportunities to learn and develop coping strategies.  However, it is essential to recognize that not all individuals will experience relapse.  Some people may achieve long-term recovery without significant setbacks, highlighting the diverse nature of recovery pathways.  Understanding that there are various factors that contribute to relapse is extremely important.  By reframing relapse as a potential part of the recovery process rather than a failure, we can reduce stigma, encourage open dialogue, and provide more effective support for those affected by substance use disorders.  So, instead of seeing my relapse as a defeat, I now understand it as a part of the journey, a reminder of my resilience and the need for ongoing support.  This experience has given me the opportunity to reassess my coping strategies and reinforce my commitment to recovery.  Each step, even the difficult ones, contributes to my growth and healing. 

My story is a poignant reminder of the fragile nature of recovery and the importance of compassion and understanding.  My relapse, while painful, is not the end of my journey (thank God).  With renewed determination, I sought the help of doctors, counselors, and therapists.  I have reconnected with my support group, and have embraced the love of my wonderful family and friends.  Once again I navigate the complexities of recovery, one day at a time.  My hope is that my resilience and courage will continue to inspire those around me, proving that even in the face of setbacks, hope and healing are always within reach.  My journey illustrates that relapse, while disheartening, is a step toward deeper understanding and stronger recovery, highlighting the indomitable human spirit and the capacity for renewal.

And remember, 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 able to spread awareness today.

59. My Relapse

On May 22nd, I made the crucial decision to check myself into a 28-day substance abuse treatment center.  This isn't my first experience with rehab—far from it.  Since my initial treatment in 2018, I've cycled through various rehabs for different reasons.  I’ve entered these programs to meet my family’s expectations, to appease friends, and even to satisfy a judge's orders.  What I’ve come to understand is that while anyone can enter treatment for a multitude of reasons, true and lasting recovery only begins when the decision to get clean is made by you for yourself.  The only time I’ve seen treatment truly take hold is when the addict or alcoholic genuinely wants to change their life for their own sake.

Among all my previous attempts at rehab, May 22nd stands out as the first time I sought treatment with the sole intention of improving my own life.  This time, I am committing to this journey not just to fulfill others' demands or expectations, but because I want to heal and build a better future for myself.

On May 22, I found myself parked at a gas station, hopelessly sitting in my car with a loaded needle and a pint of whiskey in the center console.  By then, I had been using alcohol and drugs for about a month straight, each day blending into the next.  That particular day, I had been using from the moment I woke up, trying to numb the overwhelming pain and confusion that had consumed me since losing my best friend to addiction earlier that month.  His death had turned my world upside down and dredged up emotions I hadn’t faced in a very long time.

I was deeply struggling and made the critical error of trying to navigate this turmoil on my own. Instead of reaching out to my support network and sharing what I was going through, I isolated myself, believing I could manage the darkness alone.  It was a mistake that only deepened my despair and made it clear that I needed help more than ever.  This moment marked a turning point for me, highlighting the critical importance of connection and support in overcoming the challenges of addiction.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am both an alcoholic and a drug addict.  There is no doubt in my mind, and I’m certain that those who know me personally would agree.  When I drink, I don’t do so casually; I use alcohol to escape, to alter my state, and once I start, I can’t stop until I either pass out or run out of supply.  Unlike those who can enjoy a single beer or a glass of wine and then simply put the can or bottle away, I am unable to have just one.  The concept of moderation is foreign to me.  People who don’t struggle with alcoholism can enjoy a drink and then move on with their lives, leaving the rest of the six-pack or bottle untouched, even if it’s within reach.  I deeply envy their ability to stop without obsession.  As a teenager, I fantasized about coming home from work, relaxing with a cold beer on my front porch, and savoring the moment as I watched the sunset.  But the reality is, I will never be able to enjoy that simple pleasure.  For me, the allure of a drink always leads to excess, and the fantasy of moderation is just that—a fantasy. I’ve accepted that my relationship with alcohol is fundamentally different, and I have to face that truth if I want to find a path to recovery.

I can’t pinpoint exactly what drove me to check myself into rehab this time.  Something shifted in my mind after I finished that last bag of heroin in my car, but the origin of that thought remains unclear.  I like to believe that my best friend, who had passed away, played a role in this decision. I imagine he was watching over me, seeing the depth of my pain and wanting something better for me.

At one point, I had nearly four years of sobriety, and during that time, I learned a great deal about myself.  I discovered that I use substances to escape from my own feelings and to avoid confronting my inner self.  Addiction is an incredibly powerful force, and I found that I become a person whom no one likes or trusts when I am using.  I’ve come to understand that when I start using, I cannot stop on my own.  I’ve tried every conceivable method to get clean by myself—restricting my use of certain substances or setting limits—but it always spirals back into full-blown addiction.

This cycle has taught me that I cannot break free on my own.  My attempts at controlling my addiction have only reinforced the need for external help.  It's clear now that I need support and guidance to overcome this.  This realization, along with the haunting memory of my friend, pushed me to seek help, understanding that this is the only way I can truly begin to heal and reclaim my life.

This is why staying vigilant in your sobriety is absolutely crucial. Maintaining sobriety demands immense effort and commitment.  It only takes one poor decision to throw everything off balance and find yourself back where you started—or even worse.  I’ve come to terms with the reality that I will always be an addict and alcoholic. Some days, accepting this is easier; other days, it’s a real struggle. Focusing on just today makes it more manageable, whereas thinking about not using for the rest of my life can feel overwhelming.  That’s why the adage to take it "one day at a time" is so vital.

Currently, I’m in a long-term residential treatment center in New York City, working diligently to understand myself better, develop healthy coping mechanisms, and identify what was missing in my recovery before this relapse.  The timeline for my return home is uncertain, but I'm not overly concerned about it.  When I feel ready to transition back, I’ll discuss it with my therapist and formulate a plan.  While I miss my family and friends deeply, I know I’m exactly where I need to be right now.

I’m looking forward to returning home and giving recovery another serious try.  Today marks 74 days of sobriety, and I feel better than I ever have before.  Writing this column again brings me a lot of joy. You might not realize it, but you play a huge role in my journey.  This platform is incredibly therapeutic for me, and your support fuels my recovery.  I am profoundly grateful for every reader and can’t thank you enough for being a part of this process.

I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who wrote me letters and sent cards during my stay in rehab.  Your words of encouragement and support are a constant source of strength and comfort, and they played a significant role in my journey toward recovery.  Thank you for being there for me.

And remember, 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 able to spread awareness today.

58. Movies on Addiction Worth Watching

Since getting clean from alcohol and drugs there have been four compelling films that I’ve watched that offer poignant insights into the harrowing journey of individuals grappling with substance abuse. Through the lens of cinema, we navigate the highs and lows of addiction, witnessing the raw realities of its impact on individuals, relationships, and the pursuit of redemption.  From the gritty streets of 1990s New York to the skies above in post-traumatic flight aftermath, each film paints a vivid picture of the multifaceted challenges that accompany addiction, while also illuminating the transformative power of recovery.  This week, my focus will be on four captivating films: "Beautiful Boy," "Basketball Diaries," "Flight," and "A Star is Born."

1. Beautiful Boy

In "Beautiful Boy," we follow the gripping and emotionally charged journey of a young man, Nic Sheff, as he battles the insidious grip of addiction.  The story unfolds through the eyes of an addict in recovery, offering a raw and authentic portrayal of the harrowing realities of substance abuse and its profound impact on relationships.

Nic Sheff, a talented and promising young writer among other things, finds himself ensnared in the relentless cycle of addiction.  As he spirals deeper into the clutches of drugs, his relationship with his father, David, becomes strained as David desperately tries to understand and save his son.

The narrative alternates between the present and flashbacks that chronicle Nic's descent into the world of substance abuse.  The film captures the heart-wrenching moments of hope and despair, showcasing the toll addiction takes not only on the individual but also on their loved ones.

In “Beautiful Boy,” we witness the brutal honesty of the struggle for sobriety.  The film explores themes of forgiveness, redemption, and the unwavering love between a father and his son. Through the highs and lows of Nic's journey, we see the resilience required to confront the demons of addiction and rebuild shattered lives.

"Beautiful Boy" is a poignant exploration of the complexities of addiction, told with empathy and a profound understanding of the human spirit's capacity for healing.  It serves as a powerful reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is hope for redemption and the possibility of reclaiming a beautiful life. 

2. Basketball Diaries

"Basketball Diaries" takes you on a gritty and heart-wrenching journey through the turbulent life of Jim Carroll, a high school basketball prodigy turned addict in the merciless streets of 1990s New York City.

Jim, played by a young Leonardo DiCaprio, once had the world at his feet as a basketball star with dreams of a brighter future.  However, the allure of the streets, coupled with the grip of substance abuse, pulls him into a downward spiral of chaos and self-destruction.  The film unfolds as a series of haunting flashbacks, chronicling Jim's descent from the heights of promise to the depths of despair.

As an addict looking back, the narrative delves into the intense highs and crushing lows of addiction, painting an unfiltered picture of the destructive path that Jim and his friends navigate. From the seemingly innocent experimentation with drugs to the perilous allure of crime, the movie exposes the harsh realities of urban life and the insidious allure of escape through substance abuse.

Through the haze of addiction, moments of clarity emerge, revealing the toll on Jim's relationships and his struggle to maintain a semblance of normalcy.  The film poignantly captures the desperation and isolation that often accompany addiction, making it a raw and unapologetic portrayal of the battle for survival.

"Basketball Diaries" is a story of hope and resilience, showcasing Jim's arduous journey toward recovery.  It explores the power of redemption, the strength of the human spirit, and the unwavering support of those who believe in second chances.  The film serves as a testament to the transformative nature of recovery, illustrating that even from rock bottom, one can find the strength to rise and reclaim a life of purpose.

3. Flight

"Flight is a gripping tale that takes you through the tumultuous journey of Captain Whip Whitaker, a skilled airline pilot whose life takes a nosedive due to the haunting grip of addiction.  Narrated from the perspective of an addict in recovery, the film explores the complexities of substance abuse, the battle for redemption, and the ultimate quest for self-forgiveness.

Whip Whitaker, portrayed by Denzel Washington, is a charismatic pilot whose bravado conceals a turbulent personal life dominated by alcohol and drugs.  The narrative kicks off with a harrowing in-flight emergency, where Whip's exceptional skills miraculously save the lives of many passengers. However, this heroic act only serves to intensify the scrutiny of his personal demons.

The film delves into the unraveling of his life post-incident.  Faced with the investigation into the crash, Whip is forced to confront the consequences of his addiction, both professionally and personally.  The narrative doesn't shy away from the harsh realities of substance abuse, portraying Whip's struggles with denial, isolation, and the impact on his relationships.

"Flight," becomes a poignant exploration of the rocky path to recovery as Whip grapples with his past and attempts to rebuild his shattered life.  The film doesn't glamourize addiction but rather exposes its destructive nature, emphasizing the strength required to break free from its chains.

This film beautifully captures the power of redemption and self-discovery, as Whip faces the harsh consequences of his actions and strives to make amends.  "Flight," navigates the rocky terrain of addiction recovery, offering a portrayal of the rocky journey towards sobriety and the possibility of finding solace in the midst of one's own storm.

4. A Star is Born

In the gripping drama "A Star is Born," we delve into the tumultuous world of fame, addiction, and love through the eyes of Jack, a tormented musician battling his inner demons.  Jack, a once-iconic rock star, stumbles upon Ally, a struggling artist with a mesmerizing voice, and sees in her the potential to reignite his fading career.

As Jack and Ally's love story unfolds, the narrative takes a dark turn, portraying the throes of addiction that plague Jack's every step.  His turbulent journey is a rollercoaster of highs and lows, mirroring the chaotic rhythm of his rock-and-roll lifestyle.  Jack's drug dependency becomes a haunting symphony that echoes through the film, painting a vivid picture of the destructive power of addiction.

Despite the glaring shadows cast by Jack's demons, Ally rises as a beacon of hope and resilience. She blossoms into a rising star, navigating the pitfalls of fame while desperately trying to save the man she loves.  The film captures the heartbreaking contrast between Ally's ascent to stardom and Jack's descent into the abyss of substance abuse.

Against the backdrop of sold-out concerts, soulful ballads, and Hollywood's glittering lights, "A Star is Born," becomes a heartbreaking exploration of the fragility of human connections.

In this harrowing tale of love and addiction, "A Star is Born," paints a vivid portrait of the music industry's dark underbelly, offering a raw and unfiltered look into the consequences of fame and the pursuit of artistic greatness.

Each of these cinematic journeys offers a raw and unapologetic portrayal of the multifaceted challenges individuals face when grappling with substance abuse.  These narratives serve as poignant reminders of the far-reaching consequences of addiction on relationships, personal growth, and the pursuit of redemption.  The films delve deeply into the heart of darkness, exposing the harsh realities of denial, isolation, and the toll on loved ones.  However, amidst the shadows, they also illuminate the transformative power of recovery, showcasing the resilience required to confront one's demons and rebuild shattered lives.  As we navigate these cinematic masterpieces, we unravel stories of hope, redemption, and the unwavering human spirit's capacity to soar beyond shadows.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

57. Ten Things I Would Tell My Younger Self

Man, life is so crazy.  It’s such a wild journey filled with twists, turns, and unforeseen challenges.  As a recovering addict reflecting on the tumultuous path I've traveled, I find solace in the idea of reaching back through time to offer guidance to my younger self.  In the throes of addiction, clarity often eludes us, and the consequences of our actions seem distant.  If I could communicate with the version of me trapped by the grips of substance abuse, here are ten crucial lessons that might have illuminated the shadows along the way.

1.        Embrace Vulnerability:

In the haze of addiction, and at times even in sobriety, vulnerability is often perceived as a weakness.  However, it is through embracing vulnerability that we find strength.  Opening up about struggles and seeking support is not an admission of defeat but instead, a courageous step toward recovery.  So, I would tell my younger self to shed the armor, to be completely open about the pain and the struggles, and to let others in.

2.        Self-Compassion is the Cornerstone of Healing:

It's so easy to drown in self-loathing when trapped by addiction.  My younger self needed to understand that healing truly begins with self-compassion.  Forgiving oneself for past mistakes and embracing imperfections is a pivotal aspect of recovery.  In the face of darkness, a compassionate attitude towards oneself can be a guiding light.

3.        The Illusion of Control:

Addiction thrives on the illusion of control.  I would caution my younger self against the fallacy of believing I had the reins on substance abuse. Acknowledging powerlessness over addiction is not surrender; it's the first step towards liberation.  Understanding this concept earlier would have saved me from years of futile attempts to control the uncontrollable.

4.        Seek Professional Help:

Admitting the need for professional help is not an admission of failure but a declaration of strength. Therapy and counseling provide invaluable tools for navigating the complex terrain of addiction. My younger self needed to hear that seeking professional help was not a sign of weakness but a courageous leap toward recovery.

5.        Cultivate Healthy Coping Mechanisms:

In the whirlwind of addiction, the appeal of abusing substances as a coping mechanism is strong.  I would advise my younger self to explore healthier alternatives – mindfulness, exercise, creative outlets – to cope with life's challenges.  Discovering constructive ways to manage stress and emotions is essential for sustained recovery.

6.        Connect With a Supportive Community:

Isolation is a breeding ground for addiction.  Building connections with others who understand the struggles and triumphs of recovery creates a supportive network that is indispensable.  My younger self needed to recognize the importance of surrounding oneself with a community that fosters growth, engages in healthy hobbies, and provides unwavering encouragement.

7.        Confront Trauma and Root Causes:

Addiction often stems from deeper wounds and unresolved trauma.  I would encourage my younger self to confront these underlying issues head-on through therapy and self-reflection. Gabor Mate is a doctor, renowned speaker, and bestselling author.  He says, “Addiction is only a symptom, it’s not the fundamental problem.  The fundamental problem is trauma.”  So, unearthing the root causes of addiction is crucial for sustained recovery and personal growth.

8.        Mindfulness and Present Moment Awareness:

One’s past is often riddled with regrets, and the future can be daunting, especially for someone entangled in addiction.  Teaching my younger self the power of mindfulness and the importance of living in the present moment would have been a transformative gift.  Awareness of the present allows for a conscious choice to shape a brighter future.

9.        Patience is a Virtue:

Recovery is not a linear journey; it is a series of peaks and valleys.  My younger self needed to understand that setbacks were not synonymous with failure.  Patience, resilience, and perseverance are the foundation of recovery.  Each stumble and setback is an opportunity to learn and grow stronger.

10.  Rediscover Authenticity:

Addiction often masks one's true self.  I would tell my younger self that recovery is not only about breaking free from substances but rediscovering authenticity.  Embracing one's genuine identity, free from the constraints of addiction, is one of the most profound and liberating experiences.

Reflecting on my journey through addiction, these ten lessons stand as beacons of guidance that potentially could have helped to illuminate the darkness of my past.  If I could convey this wisdom to my younger self, perhaps the road to recovery would have been smoother, and the shadows less daunting.  Regardless of whether you align with every lesson I've outlined, I'm highly confident that at least one of them could yield a positive impact on any child.  Even if you find yourself disagreeing with all ten, I firmly believe there's no harm in allowing any child to explore and consider these lessons.  Though I cannot rewrite the past, I hope that these lessons may serve as a compass for those still grappling with the challenges of addiction, guiding them toward a brighter and more fulfilling future.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

56. Your Past Does Not Define You

The journey of overcoming substance abuse, compounded by a lengthy criminal history, is a challenging and multifaceted endeavor. Society often perpetuates the belief that an individual's past, especially involving legal transgressions, defines their identity.  This misconception can be particularly burdensome for those grappling with substance abuse and a criminal record.  However, it is crucial to understand that one's past does not always necessarily dictate their future.  In the context of substance abuse and criminal history, breaking free from the chains of addiction involves a profound shift in perspective – a realization that the narrative of one's life is not predetermined by past mistakes but can be rewritten through resilience, growth, and change.

Substance abuse and criminal behavior very often share a complex and interconnected relationship.  The legal consequences of substance abuse can lead to criminal charges, creating a vicious cycle that seems impossible to escape.  However, it is essential to recognize that this cycle does not define an individual's inherent character. Substance abuse and criminal behavior are symptomatic of underlying issues that can be addressed through rehabilitation, support, and a commitment to change.

A criminal history is a part of an individual's narrative, but it does not encapsulate their entire identity.  It is important to distinguish between the actions that led to a criminal record and the potential for transformation and growth.  The criminal justice system often focuses on punishment, but the journey of overcoming substance abuse and a criminal history involves rehabilitation, redemption, and reintegration into society.

The legal system often reinforces the myth that a person's criminal history defines them indefinitely. This perspective can hinder an individual's efforts to break free from the shackles of addiction and criminal behavior.  A more enlightened approach recognizes that individuals can change and rehabilitate themselves, contributing positively to society despite their past mistakes.

Recovery from substance abuse and criminal behavior is a comprehensive process that goes beyond mere abstinence.  It involves addressing the root causes of both issues, rebuilding relationships, and navigating the legal consequences while fostering personal growth. Recovery is not about erasing the past.  Instead, it is about transforming it into a source of strength and resilience.

The stigma surrounding criminal history often exacerbates the challenges faced by individuals seeking recovery.  External societal stigma and internalized self-stigmatization can impede progress. Challenging these narratives involves recognizing that everyone is capable of change and redemption.  Society, too, must evolve its perspective on individuals with criminal records, providing opportunities for rehabilitation and reintegration.

The journey of overcoming substance abuse and criminal history is inherently marked by adversity. However, adversity does not define an individual; it provides an opportunity for growth and resilience.  Though significant, the legal consequences of past actions should not be insurmountable barriers to rehabilitation and a brighter future. Resilience involves facing the challenges presented by substance abuse and a criminal record, learning from them, and using those experiences to fuel personal development.

Self-reflection remains a powerful tool on the path to recovery, especially when dealing with both substance abuse and a criminal history.  It involves introspection, acknowledging mistakes, understanding the factors that led to substance abuse and criminal behavior, and taking responsibility for one's actions.  While the past serves as a teacher, it should not be a lifelong sentence.  Through self-reflection, individuals can gain insights into their motivations and triggers, empowering them to make informed decisions for a healthy and law-abiding future.

True liberation from the clutches of substance abuse and a criminal history comes from embracing change and transformation.  It involves adopting a growth mindset, understanding that integrity and character can be developed through dedication and hard work.  By fostering a mindset that welcomes change and views challenges as opportunities for growth, individuals can rewrite their narratives and embark on a journey of continuous improvement despite the legal hurdles they may face.

Recovery from substance abuse and criminal history is not a solitary endeavor; it thrives in a supportive environment.  Building a network of understanding friends, family, and professionals becomes even more critical when legal challenges are part of the equation.  A supportive environment encourages openness, reduces the stigma surrounding both issues and reinforces the idea that a person's past, though marked by mistakes, does not define their worth or potential for positive change.

The journey of overcoming substance abuse and a criminal history is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.  By dispelling the myth that one's past, especially involving legal transgressions, defines their identity, individuals can embark on a transformative journey toward recovery. Substance abuse and a criminal history should be viewed as symptoms, not inherent traits, and the narrative of one's life can be rewritten through self-reflection, resilience, and the embrace of change.  The power to redefine oneself lies within, waiting to be harnessed on the path to a healthier, law-abiding, and more fulfilling future. Breaking the chains of addiction and legal consequences requires not only letting go of the past but also realizing the infinite potential for growth and change that lies ahead.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

55. A Journey of Vulnerability, Connection, & Transformation

People often inquire about my choice to divulge the intimate details of my former substance abuse and criminal history in this weekly column.  Some view it as a daring venture with a high-risk factor, and perhaps, they're right.  Frequently, I'm met with questioning looks and asked, "Why do you disclose so much about your past?"  Doubts linger: "What if you pursue a job, and potential employers stumble upon all these revelations?"  The truth is that delving into my criminal record reveals only a fraction of my story, offering a limited perspective.  The safeguard of HIPAA laws ensures that details regarding my struggles with substance abuse and mental health remain largely concealed.  And so, the question remains: why embark on the risky journey of laying bare my past "skeletons" for all to read?

Well, let me explain… I recently began venturing into the realm of Facebook Marketplace to sell various antiques and collectibles which has introduced me to a diverse array of individuals, each with their own unique life stories.  A few weeks ago, I conducted a transaction with a gentleman.  We negotiated back and forth a bit and eventually came to an agreement on a fair price.  After the interaction, he left an encouraging comment in my inbox, urging me to "keep doing what you're doing" in reference to my weekly columns and my past TEDxGoshen talk.  He had browsed through some of my Facebook posts regarding my journey with substance abuse and mental health disorders, tuned into my TEDxGoshen talk from this past summer, and even began reading these weekly columns on my website (kream-blog.com) where I share the very narratives you are currently reading (mind you, they are delayed by six weeks).

Now, fast forward to just a few days ago, as he reached out again to acquire another item I had listed for sale.  We engaged in similar negotiations, again reaching a fair agreement on a price for the item. At that point, I assumed our conversation would conclude with the completion of the transaction.  However, my expectations were pleasantly shattered when he responded with an unexpected message.  Here's what he sent...

“I'm going out of my comfort zone but as they say what the hell.  Let me know the total and I'll Venmo you the money. And as usual, it was an absolute pleasure doing business with you.  You've been a role model for me with my current change in lifestyle that has to do with my diet, weight control, and diabetes management.  I am now, over the course of three months, in diabetes remission because of my weight loss and it's not a fad.  It is a total commitment to a new lifestyle and reading your story has truly been inspirational, and motivating, and it will continue to motivate me in the future as I take one day at a time making sure I don't stray from my plan.  Thankfully day by day I'm getting stronger with this and it's just turning into complete normalcy.  Thanks for being so strong yourself and helping me even if it's been at a distance.”

I’ve never crossed paths with this gentleman in the real world and if he were to stand beside me in a grocery store, he would more than likely slip by unnoticed.  Yet, his encouraging words have served as a powerful reminder of why I willingly expose the depths of my past.  This vulnerability in my weekly columns is not confined to only those grappling with substance abuse or mental health disorders; it extends its relevance to anyone aspiring to initiate positive changes in their lives.  This column, while rooted in my personal experiences with substance abuse and mental health struggles, transcends those boundaries.  Its insights and principles can resonate with anyone on a journey toward improvement, whether it involves weight loss, smoking cessation, increased physical activity, or any other positive lifestyle transformation.  By sharing the intricate events and lessons from my own history, I aim to offer a universal narrative that speaks to the broader spectrum of human challenges and triumphs.

Through the lens of my past, I strive to weave a narrative that resonates with the shared aspirations and obstacles that unite us all.  Whether someone is navigating the complexities of addiction, embarking on a fitness journey, or endeavoring to cultivate healthier habits, the underlying principles of resilience, self-discovery, and the pursuit of positive change remain constant.  In embracing vulnerability, I aspire to foster a sense of communal understanding and encouragement, illustrating that our collective narratives hold the potential to inspire and uplift each other on the path to personal growth.

In reflecting on this incredible journey of self-disclosure, connection, and unexpected inspiration, I am reminded that the power of sharing one's truth extends far beyond achieving personal catharsis (the process of releasing negative emotions such as grief and anger, thereby relieving the adverse psychological impact of these emotions). The heartfelt message from the gentleman on Facebook Marketplace reinforces the transformative impact that vulnerability can have on others, and it reinforces my purpose of doing what I do.  His courage to step out of his comfort zone and share his own journey towards a healthier lifestyle echoes the essence of this column – that our stories, no matter how diverse, possess the universal ability to motivate and uplift.  As we navigate the unpredictable terrain of life, each revelation, every shared experience, becomes a stepping-stone toward collective resilience and growth.  In embracing vulnerability, we not only illuminate our own path but also illuminate the way for others to find strength, inspiration, and a shared sense of humanity.  Together, we can forge a narrative that transcends the boundaries of individual struggles, creating a tapestry of connection and encouragement that binds us in the pursuit of positive lifestyle changes.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

54. Functioning Alcoholics/Addicts – Do They Really Exist?

The concept of a "functioning alcoholic" or "functioning drug addict" often elicits a sense of contradiction, challenging the conventional understanding of addiction.  The term "functioning alcoholic" or "functioning addict" is frequently used to describe individuals who, despite having a substance abuse problem, are able to maintain a semblance of normalcy in their daily lives.  These individuals may hold down jobs, fulfill family responsibilities, and engage in social activities while struggling with alcoholism and/or drug addiction.  They may not exhibit the stereotypical signs of impairment that are commonly associated with substance abuse.  It's important to note that the concept of a functioning alcoholic or addict doesn't imply that the person is immune to the negative consequences of substance abuse. Rather, it suggests that they are adept at concealing their struggles and maintaining a facade of functionality.  Over time, however, the impact of substance abuse can take a toll on their physical and mental health, relationships, and overall well-being.

While some individuals may appear to function relatively well despite their addiction, it's crucial to recognize that this is not a stable or sustainable way of living.  Substance abuse tends to have cumulative and detrimental effects over time, and seeking help and treatment is essential for addressing the underlying issues and achieving lasting recovery.

Functioning individuals with substance abuse disorders develop a tolerance to the effects of alcohol or drugs over time, allowing them to consume significant amounts without overt signs of impairment.  Contrary to the stereotypical image of a non-functioning addict, those who are functional continue to excel in their professional and personal lives.  They hold down jobs, fulfill family obligations, and maintain social connections, all while concealing their internal struggles.  Functioning alcoholics and addicts master the art of hiding their battles.  They deny the severity of their addiction, both to themselves and others, using denial as a coping mechanism to preserve a semblance of normalcy.  Functioning addicts often justify their substance abuse as a means of stress relief, enhanced creativity, or other perceived benefits.  These rationalizations further enable them to maintain functionality despite their addiction.

And so… the question lingers: Can one truly sustain a lifestyle as a functioning alcoholic or drug addict in the long run?  While it may seem plausible in the short term, the consequences of such a life eventually catch up, challenging the very fabric of stability these individuals work so hard to maintain.

Substance abuse takes a toll on both physical and mental health. Despite their functional exterior, functioning addicts may experience deteriorating health, heightened stress, and mental health issues like anxiety and depression.  Maintaining personal relationships becomes an uphill battle for functioning addicts.  Loved ones may eventually sense changes in behavior, mood swings, and unreliability, leading to strained relationships and emotional turbulence.  While functioning alcoholics and addicts may excel at work initially, the prolonged effects of substance abuse can jeopardize their careers.  Decreased productivity, absenteeism, and impaired decision-making can unravel the professional facade they meticulously construct.  Functioning alcoholics and addicts are not immune to legal repercussions.  Driving under the influence, substance-related offenses, and other legal troubles may emerge, further complicating their personal and professional lives.

In my journey through the struggles of substance abuse and subsequent recovery, I've encountered numerous individuals who embody the paradoxical role of a functioning alcoholic or addict.  One such example is a man named Johnny, a 54-year-old former top executive at a prestigious banking company, who held an impressive array of degrees and certifications.  With a loving spouse, two beautiful children, and a desirable lifestyle featuring a huge house and luxury cars, Johnny seemed to have it all.

Alcoholism ran rampant in his family history and had claimed both of his parents, while his siblings battled their own struggles with excessive drinking.  Johnny's journey with alcoholism began in high school, intensifying to a point where, during his college years, he was consuming hard liquor on a daily basis.  Even with his daily drinking, he was able to graduate at the top of his class and begin his career in the banking industry.  As he embarked on his professional career, Johnny continued his heavy drinking habits.  His daily train commute became the setting for discreetly downing three to five "shooters" (the small liquor bottles that hold a shot of liquor) obtained from liquor stores. Over time, this evolved into a cycle of pre-work, lunchtime, and post-work drinking.  The volume escalated, shifting from shooters to a full fifth of charcoal rum consumed throughout the day.  One fateful day, Johnny broke his unwavering streak of never forgetting to grab a fifth of liquor for his next day’s morning commute to work.  Despite the unprecedented lapse, Johnny wasn’t too worried and planned on getting his fix when the liquor store opened the following day.  The next morning, during his train ride commute to New York City, Johnny experienced an unsettling trifecta of symptoms: an upset stomach, hand tremors, and intense cold sweats.  Attributing these maladies to a possible viral infection circulating, he dismissed the issue as a passing inconvenience.  After his train reached New York City, Johnny's immediate destination was the liquor store to replenish his daily alcohol supply.  Quickly cracking open one of the fifths, he downed half of it in three substantial swigs.  Astonishingly, within fifteen minutes, the tremors subsided, the cold sweats evaporated, and his stomach returned to normal.  Unbeknownst to Johnny at the time, the distressing symptoms were withdrawals stemming from the absence of alcohol that morning.  This episode marked a turning point, as he seldom missed another day without his daily liquor fix.  Constant anxiety gripped him until he secured his regular alcohol haul.  Astonishingly, Johnny maintained this routine for over twenty years, all the while excelling in his career, starting a family, and concealing the extent of his alcohol consumption from almost everyone around him.

However, as Johnny approached retirement, the toll of his excessive drinking began to manifest.  Trying to sustain the same lifestyle without repercussions from his loved ones proved increasingly challenging.  Fearing the judgment of his family, Johnny resorted to more substantial amounts of alcohol during his covert outings.  Lies piled up, his physical and mental health deteriorated, and he became constantly anxious and agitated without a drink.  Two years after retiring, Johnny found himself at rock bottom, contemplating suicide in his garage with the barrel of a loaded 12-gauge shotgun in his mouth and a liter of cheap, charcoal rum beside him.  The culmination of a failed marriage (due to his drinking), financial ruin (due to his drinking), and the relentless grip of alcohol dependence pushed Johnny to the brink.  Despite the depth of his despair, he fortunately couldn't bring himself to end his life (thank God).  This pivotal moment led him to enter a rehab where he would begin to try and turn his life around.  This same rehab is where Johnny and I met for the first time.

The story of Johnny serves as a stark reminder that the facade of functionality in the face of substance abuse is not sustainable in the long run.  For 20 years, Johnny successfully navigated his professional and personal life while harboring a dark secret.  However, the consequences caught up with him, forcing him to confront the devastating impact of his alcohol abuse in a rehabilitation center. 

The kind of life led by individuals like Johnny, and countless others, will eventually come crashing down.  Whether it's a year, two years, or twenty, the inevitable truth is that, eventually, the repercussions of long-term substance abuse catch up.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

53. The Importance of Humor

Believe it or not, humor plays a crucial role in substance abuse and recovery.  Laughter has the power to break down barriers and create a sense of camaraderie among individuals facing the challenges of addiction.  In the midst of recovery, humor serves as a coping mechanism, helping individuals navigate the emotional turbulence that often accompanies the process of overcoming substance abuse. It provides a means to lighten the weight of self-reflection and fosters a positive mindset, promoting resilience and perseverance.  Moreover, shared laughter in support groups or therapy sessions can strengthen social bonds, creating a supportive environment where individuals feel understood and encouraged.  By incorporating humor into the recovery journey, individuals not only find moments of joy but also develop a healthier perspective on their experiences, contributing to long-term well-being and a sustained commitment to sobriety.

Among my various stints in rehab, there were numerous instances when laughter became a lifeline, escaping my lips with such intensity that breathing became a challenge.  Despite these stretches in rehab being some of the darkest times of my entire life, I often find myself looking back and laughing to myself as I remember certain events that unfolded during those times.  Reflecting on those challenging stretches, I realize that even within the depths of hardship, humor serves as a resilient companion, offering respite and a glimpse of positivity during the darkest of times.

My initial experience in rehab dates back to February 2018.  It was a period in my life when I was completely broken and scared of what the future held for me.  The daunting prospect of a challenging detox loomed before me, and uncertainty clouded my belief in my strength to persevere.  Despite these uncertainties, I successfully navigated the detox phase and transitioned to the rehabilitation segment of my stay, a move that entailed a shift to a new wing in the hospital where I would share a room with a roommate.  My roommate, whom I'll refer to as "Miami" for confidentiality purposes, was a 40-year-old crack addict with a serious drinking problem.  A New York City native, Miami found himself in this particular rehab due to a court-mandated intervention.  Homeless, estranged from his children, and with a history of recurring struggles with addiction and the criminal justice system, Miami epitomized the term "institutionalized."  Being institutionalized refers to a state where an individual has spent a significant amount of time living in and adapting to the routines, norms, and structures of an institution, such as a mental health facility, prison, or long-term care facility.  The term is often associated with a person becoming accustomed to the institutional environment to the extent that reintegration into society becomes challenging.  The rehab's bedrooms had thermostats encased in clear, lockable boxes to prevent tampering.  They always remained set to a specific temperature and locked.  On my first night as Miami's roommate, he looked at me and said, "Yo, Cal (this is how he pronounced my name), tonight... we're sleeping in Miami."  Puzzled, I watched as he cleverly used a pencil to pick the lock so that he could crank the thermostat to a sweltering 95 degrees.  This nightly ritual became our shared routine.  Despite my discomfort in the tropical room, Miami, accustomed to sleeping in harsh conditions due to homelessness, reveled in the warmth.  I would be stripped down to my boxers and still profusely sweating while Miami slept like a baby on the other side of the room.  Eventually ousted from rehab for a confrontation with another patient, Miami vanished from my life.  I often find myself pondering his fate, but the memories of his nightly declaration, "We're sleeping in Miami tonight, Cal," consistently bring a smile to my face.  In hindsight, Miami inadvertently infused my early rehab experience with comfort, concluding each challenging day with laughter and camaraderie.

There’s another memory from that first stint in rehab that remains rent-free in my mind.  The TV room was a communal space for patients.   On this day one of the counselors had us gather in the TV room for the group she was running.   Groups could be boring at times, especially after a long day, in the same way school can sometimes be boring for children.  About 20 minutes into the group, a fellow patient, whom I'll call "Tooth," dozed off.  Tooth, much like me and Miami, struggled with severe alcohol dependency.  I wasn’t particularly fond of Tooth.  He just rubbed me the wrong way.  To this day I’m not even sure what it was about him that I didn’t like.  As a consequence of years of neglect compounded by alcohol abuse, most of Tooth’s teeth had rotted.  Tooth cared more about booze and alcohol than he did taking care of his teeth.  His addiction, like mine and so many other addicts, had his priorities all out of whack.  In one of his jail stints, Tooth was fitted for and given dentures.  The dentures that were made for him were way too big for his mouth.  They made his teeth look like a horse’s mouth.  Jail apparently doesn’t provide you with top-notch dental services. During the group session, Tooth dozed off, his limp form in the chair with his head slumped backward so that his mouth faced the ceiling, emitting occasional snores.  Suddenly, Tooth let out a massive snort, jolting upright, leading everyone to believe he had awoken abruptly. However, he continued coughing and gasping for air.  The revelation unfolded that Tooth's dentures had dislodged during his nap, slipping halfway down his throat.  He was literally choking on his dentures. Swift medical intervention ensued, employing the Heimlich maneuver to prevent a life-threatening situation.  Eventually, the dentures were dislodged, and despite Tooth not being my preferred companion in rehab, his good sense of humor prevailed.  After the incident, the entire group, including the counselor, erupted in tears of laughter upon realizing Tooth's unusual predicament. Though infrequent, this experience sometimes resurfaces in my thoughts, never failing to bring a smile to my face.

The role of humor, especially in the context of substance abuse and recovery, is undeniably transformative.  It can transcend the challenges of addiction, fostering camaraderie, resilience, and a positive mindset during the arduous journey towards sobriety.  As I reflect on my own experiences in rehab, marked by the darkness of detoxes and uncertainty of the future, moments of shared laughter still manage to bring a smile to my face to this very day.  From Miami's nightly rituals that added extreme warmth to our bedroom to Tooth's unexpected denture mishap, humor became an unexpected ally in the face of adversity.  These memories, though marked with the struggles of addiction, now bring a smile to my face, underscoring the therapeutic power of laughter in navigating the complexities of recovery.  Through humor, individuals not only find moments of joy but also forge bonds that contribute to long-term well-being and a sustained commitment to sobriety.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

52. Easter

Five years ago, I spent Easter in a jail cell while detoxing cold turkey from alcohol and Benzodiazepines in Orange County Jail.  It turns out that the Easter Bunny doesn’t make a pit stop at the local jail to deliver candy and hide eggs for the prisoners.  I’d been arrested many times before, but this time I was facing much more serious charges than in the past - ones that, if convicted, carry hefty prison sentences.

A mere week before Easter of 2019, I was arrested by the City of Middletown Police after pulling into a public parking lot and recklessly clipping a parked car.  I was so messed up from eating Xanax “bars” and drinking beers earlier that day that I didn’t even realize I had hit anything at all.  Obliviously, I parked, locked up my car, and went into the bar across the street to throw back a few more cold ones and keep my “buzz” going.  A short while later I looked outside and happened to see police lights flashing in the parking lot that I had parked in. To this day, I still don’t know what I was thinking when I stormed out of that bar and up to those police officers, brazenly and rudely asking what they were doing near my car knowing damn well what I had stashed away inside.  If this isn’t proof that drugs make you do crazy things, then I don’t know what is.  The officers proceeded to tell me I was caught on camera hitting a parked car.  Next, they asked if I had any weapons or drugs on me and it was at that very moment that I realized the jig was up, and I was done for.  I told them that I did have “some” pills in my car that could be found in my driver-side door panel and the center console.  Officers began searching my car, ripping through my belongings until they finally found two sandwich bags full of a combined 520 Xanax “bars.”  They arrested me on the spot and charged me with felony intent to distribute a controlled substance, felony possession of a controlled substance, several drug possession misdemeanors, and tons of driving violations.

I woke up out of my blackout in Orange County Jail nearly two days later (no exaggeration at all) with absolutely no recollection of what I had been arrested for.  Mixing alcohol and Benzodiazepines is extremely dangerous, often resulting in “blackouts.”  I vividly remember waking up and reading the word “INMATE” written on the leg of my jail jumpsuit, and the horrible feeling of my heart sinking into my stomach that immediately followed.

I spent the entire week locked in a single cell, for over twenty-three hours a day in the medical unit.  I was placed there for a minimum of seven days which is protocol for an inmate withdrawing from alcohol AND Benzos.  I was let out of my cell for thirty minutes daily to shower and make a phone call.  There were days when the COs were so busy dealing with other prisoners in the dorm that my shower and phone calls were overlooked.  My cell consisted of a metal cot, a toilet with a sink connected on top, and a broken clock/speaker on one of the walls.  My cell door had a small, sliver of window that looked out into the common area of the dorm where other prisoners passed time watching TV, eating meals, working out, and playing card games.  I was only allowed to have two white T-shirts, two pairs of boxers, two pairs of socks, and one pair of “jail slides” (a slip-on shoe) in my cell at any given time.  I wasn’t allowed ANY books or magazines the entire week. Time seems to slow down to almost a complete halt when you’re withdrawing from alcohol and drugs while locked in a jail cell with absolutely nothing to do.  I was so bored that I resorted to counting the small holes in each concrete block of my jail cell’s walls.  I was grasping at straws; doing anything to try and pass the time.

Easter arrived a week later, and I was still locked up.  There would be no annual Easter dinner with my family that night.  Instead, I found myself eating bread that I sprinkled a packet of sugar on.  It was all I could manage to keep down as a result of withdrawals paired with how nasty the food looked AND smelled.  I’ll never forget the stench of some of those meals; it’s as though the smell was burned into my nostrils. Although these memories from addiction are unpleasant, they help me remain vigilant against my disease of addiction.  Someone once told me that if I forget where I came from, I’m bound to end up back there; and I most definitely don’t want that.  Today, I get to spend Easter with my family and life just keeps getting better and better for me the longer I stay clean.

May this Easter holiday season find you safe and serene, as we continue to navigate life's journey, one step at a time.  Cheers!

51. How a Lady Asking Me to Write a Weekly Column for The Indy Has Changed My Life in Unimaginable Ways

At the age of 31, I found an extraordinary bond with a woman who happens to be my mother's age… Literally.  They went to school together!  Our friendship transcends generational boundaries and that defies some societal norms.  Our shared interests became the cornerstone of this unique companionship.  Through a shared love for our little town and our love for helping others, we discovered common ground that surpassed the differences in our birth years.  Our friendship, built on mutual respect and genuine affection, serves as a testament to the notion that true companionship knows no age limits.  In an unexpected turn of events nearly one year ago, Wendy Bynum-Wade, one of the editors of The Independent Republican, asked me to write a weekly column delving into the details of my experiences with substance abuse, mental health, and recovery. Wendy took a leap of faith in me.  It requires a unique individual to take a risk and entrust a former drug addict with writing an article for a local newspaper.  She granted me the freedom to explore any topic I desired, assuring me that if there was ever content she didn't endorse, she would communicate her concerns.  This unexpected invitation has provided me with a platform to share my wisdom and experiences with a much bigger audience.  As we embarked on this new venture together, our friendship took on an additional layer of purpose, demonstrating that age is merely a number in the context of friendships and that shared passions can unite even the most unlikely companions.

Embarking on the challenging path of recovery from substance abuse and mental health issues is a deeply personal journey, filled with twists, turns, and unexpected revelations.  Little did I know that this opportunity to write a weekly column on these topics would not only become an outlet for my experiences but also a lifeline that would profoundly impact my recovery.  Being able to chronicle my struggles and triumphs has not only enhanced others understanding of substance abuse and mental health but has also played a pivotal role in my life.  I can honestly say, with 100% certainty, that this opportunity gave new purpose to my life and sent me down a path that I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams.

The act of chronicling my experiences forced me to confront the roots of my challenges, unraveling the intricate layers of my journey.  Through reflection, I’ve gained valuable insights into the patterns of my behavior, the events and triggers that led me to substance abuse, and the underlying mental health issues that I ignored for far too long.  I've grappled with expressing emotions throughout my life, finding it challenging to convey my feelings authentically.  I must admit, I'm not particularly affectionate, and that’s me being generous.  The reasons behind this aspect of my personality remain somewhat elusive to me.  Nevertheless, I recognize that personal growth is an ongoing journey, and I'm actively working on it.  Writing quickly became a lifeline, helping to reveal aspects of myself that required attention, like showing affection and sharing emotions.  In the midst of this, a unique opportunity has emerged, serving as a valuable outlet for me.  Within this space, I've discovered a comfort zone where expressing emotions, typically elusive in my daily interactions, becomes more natural. Surprisingly, I've found that the act of translating my emotions onto paper feels significantly more fluid than attempting to do so in real-life situations.  From the outset, the act of putting pen to paper became my daily therapeutic refuge.  The process of articulating my experiences, struggles, and victories offered a cathartic release, allowing me to confront the raw emotions that had long been suppressed.  Writing has become a form of self-expression, a means through which I can document the complexities of my journey.  I found solace in this, as each sentence has become a stepping stone on the path to healing.

As my columns unfolded, they became a bridge between my personal struggles and the larger community.  The power of storytelling became evident as readers connected with my narratives, realizing that they were not alone in their own personal battles.  The columns have opened up conversations about substance abuse and mental health, dismantling the walls of stigma that keep many silent for far too long. In sharing my vulnerabilities, I inadvertently became a beacon of hope for others, and the sense of community that emerged became an unexpected source of strength for me.  The column continues to be a means for therapeutic dialogue with my readers.  Through conversations, emails, and community events, I discovered the profound impact my words had on others facing similar challenges.  The exchange of experiences, advice, and encouragement created a supportive network that has transcended the confines of a printed page.  In turn, these interactions continue to reinforce my commitment to recovery, as the collective strength of shared stories becomes a lifeline for not just myself but many others.

This weekly commitment quickly became a powerful tool for accountability.  It forced me to confront my own progress and setbacks.  The act of sharing my struggles with a wider audience created a sense of responsibility, motivating me to stay committed to my recovery.  It was through this sense of accountability that I began to witness noticeable changes in my habits and mindset, solidifying my dedication to recovery.

There have been moments in my journey when the shadows of despair threatened to push me to the brink.  However, the commitment to my weekly column has helped pull me back from the brink.  The responsibility to deliver a piece each week became a source of structure and purpose, providing me with a reason to persevere during the darkest hours. In those moments, writing became not just a therapeutic exercise but a beacon of light that guided me through the storm. The process of understanding and articulating the complexities of mental health and substance abuse has helped forge a deep connection with my readers.  In turn, this connection became a source of strength, reinforcing the idea that recovery is not a solitary journey but rather a collective effort to support and uplift one another.

A mere year ago, the idea that I would be the author of a weekly column on substance abuse, mental health, and recovery would have been met with laughter.  The notion of forming a deep friendship with a woman my mother's age would have seemed even more absurd.  Yet, here we are, a year into my journey as a columnist for The Independent Republican, and Wendy Bynum-Wade, the editor, has seamlessly transformed into one of my closest confidantes.  The profound impact of this unexpected friendship has been nothing short of transformative.  This unique opportunity has offered me a crucial outlet, a space outside the confines of my own mind—a place that, for me, can be dangerous.  Pouring my thoughts onto paper has become a therapeutic endeavor, a means of holding myself accountable in my recovery journey.  The act of writing has provided a sense of comfort for me, marking the first time I've truly felt at ease with my place in this hectic world.  So, with that being said, I’d like to thank my readers.  You have helped me more than you know in this past year.  And to one of my best friends, Wendy Bynum-Wade, thank you for taking a chance on me and for the opportunity that you have provided me.  I am forever grateful for you.

The opportunity to write this weekly column on substance abuse and mental health has been an unforeseen lifeline in my journey to recovery.  From a therapeutic outlet for personal struggles to a platform for fostering connection and breaking stigmas, the act of chronicling my experiences has been truly transformative.  The commitment to accountability, self-reflection, and engaging in a therapeutic dialogue has not only enhanced my understanding of recovery but has also played a pivotal role in giving new purpose to my life.  As I continue to navigate the winding road of recovery, I am grateful for the unexpected gift of writing a weekly column—a gift that continues to illuminate my path toward healing.  Thank you again, Wendy, you’ve changed my life in unimaginable ways.

Here’s to another year of columns!

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

50. The Serenity Prayer

At first glance, I may appear as a six-foot-tall, skinny individual adorned with tattoos all over my body.  However, a closer inspection reveals that these very tattoos are more than mere ink on my skin; they are a tapestry of words, phrases, and images that carry profound personal significance. While some may view these tattoos without immediate comprehension, each inscription holds a deep meaning for me.  Take, for instance, the ink etched onto my neck bearing the phrase, "One Day at a Time."  Criticized by many who argue that a neck tattoo may impact others' perceptions, particularly in a professional context, what they fail to recognize is the significance this mantra holds for me.  Every time I gaze into a mirror, the words "One Day at a Time" serve as a poignant reminder to remain anchored in the present moment, steering clear of the tumultuous currents of the past or the anxieties of the future.  It acts as a guiding light, reining me back from the brink and providing a comforting sense of relief.  While outsiders may see nothing more than a tattooed neck, I see a daily lifeline that has profoundly influenced my journey to sobriety.

My most  meaningful piece is inscribed on my left forearm — a prayer known as "The Serenity Prayer."  It is short and sweet, and it goes like this, “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”  Beyond being a work of art, this “prayer” has played a pivotal role in both my recovery and my general approach to life.  Its words are not merely decorative; they encapsulate a philosophy that has provided me with immense strength and resilience.  In essence, these tattoos serve as more than inked designs on my skin; they are visual reminders of the principles that guide my daily life. 

The Serenity Prayer is simple, yet it stands as the cornerstone of my life's transformation.  Its influence extends far beyond the realm of ink on my skin; it has become a guiding force that shapes my perspective and approach to life’s challenges.  Often, when the terms "prayer" and "God" are invoked, they are tethered to religious contexts.  However, the Serenity Prayer defies such narrow associations.  Many recovery programs, such as Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) and Narcotics Anonymous (NA), incorporate the Serenity Prayer into their practices, and these programs are designed to be inclusive of individuals with different religious or spiritual beliefs.  It transcends religious boundaries, evolving into a spiritual mantra that resonates with the essence of human experience.  This prayer is a testament to the universality of its message, a message that goes beyond the confines of any specific faith.  It beckons us to embrace the concept of serenity, courage, and wisdom, offering a roadmap for navigating life's complexities.  It’s a source of support and empowerment for individuals, regardless of their religious inclinations.

In my journey through recovery and life's ebbs and flows, the Serenity Prayer has been a constant companion.  Its spiritual resonance has provided me with the strength to accept the unchangeable, the courage to confront the challenges within my control, and the wisdom to discern between the two.  As I trace its words with my fingertips, I am reminded not only of my own battles but also of the collective human experience—marked by struggle, resilience, and the pursuit of serenity.

The first line of the Serenity Prayer speaks to the importance of serenity, urging individuals to find peace in accepting the aspects of their lives that lie beyond their control.  In the realm of substance abuse and recovery, this acceptance is a foundational step.  Many who struggle with addiction grapple with a sense of powerlessness over their drug(s) of choice and the compulsion to use them. The Serenity Prayer encourages individuals to embrace serenity as a powerful tool for navigating the challenges that arise from this lack of control.  Acceptance involves acknowledging the reality of one's addiction without succumbing to despair.  It means recognizing the limitations of one's ability to change the past and understanding that some factors are beyond personal influence.  Serenity becomes a cornerstone for building resilience and maintaining mental and emotional stability, essential elements in the journey toward recovery.

The second line of the Serenity Prayer emphasizes the role of courage in the face of change. Acknowledging the need for change is a critical step in recovery, and courage becomes the catalyst for transformation. Individuals facing addiction are often confronted with the daunting task of breaking destructive patterns, confronting painful emotions, and making difficult decisions.  The Serenity Prayer instills a sense of courage, empowering individuals to take control of the aspects of their lives that are within their power to change.  Courage involves facing the challenges of alcohol and drug withdrawal, seeking help, and addressing the underlying issues contributing to addiction. It means confronting the fear of change and embracing the discomfort that can accompany growth. The Serenity Prayer serves as a rallying cry for those in recovery, reminding them that within their vulnerability lies the strength to pursue a healthier, substance-free life.

The final line of the Serenity Prayer encapsulates the essence of wisdom, urging individuals to discern between what can and cannot be changed.  This aspect of the prayer is particularly relevant in the context of addiction, where individuals may grapple with uncertainty about the root causes of their struggles and the most effective paths to recovery.  Wisdom in recovery involves making informed decisions, seeking guidance from experienced individuals or professionals, and developing a deep understanding of oneself.  It requires the ability to differentiate between situations that can be altered through one's efforts and those that can’t be altered, demanding acceptance of such.  The Serenity Prayer acts as a guide, fostering a sense of clarity and discernment that is indispensable in navigating the complexities of recovery.

The inked phrases, "One Day at a Time" and "The Serenity Prayer," encapsulate a philosophy of mindfulness, resilience, and serenity that have become integral to my journey.  In a world quick to judge based on appearances, these tattoos are not merely aesthetic choices; they are symbols of personal triumph and enduring reminders of the wisdom that has propelled me forward on my path to recovery and personal growth.

The Serenity Prayer stands as a universal source of guidance, transcending boundaries of spirituality, religious beliefs, or even one's stance as an atheist.  Its profound wisdom is not confined to those grappling with addiction; rather, it extends to anyone navigating the complexities of life. However, its timeless wisdom speaks directly to the challenges individuals face on the path to sobriety.  As those in recovery internalize the principles embedded in the Serenity Prayer, they find strength in acceptance, empowerment in courage, and clarity in wisdom.  It serves as a poignant reminder that, regardless of our individual circumstances, we all encounter moments where acceptance, courage, and wisdom are paramount.  The beauty of the Serenity Prayer lies in its adaptability, offering solace and empowerment to all.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

49. Emily Sigerson’s “Reverse Poem” on Addiction

In 2018, during my first-ever stint in rehab, I encountered a remarkably unique poem that initially didn't leave a profound impression on me. However, as I navigated through subsequent rehab programs in the following years, this particular poem often resurfaced in group therapy sessions, gradually revealing its genuine beauty upon each revisit. Delving deeper into its origins, I discovered that this masterpiece was penned by a woman named Emily Sigerson.  I’m not sure if she suffers from the disease of addiction or not.  I don’t think it matters either way.  Despite my limited knowledge about Emily, her poem resonated deeply with me. Through my research, I found that the poem is uniquely classified as a “reverse poem,” something I had never heard of before.  A reverse poem is a unique form of poetry where the meaning of the text becomes clear when read in a specific order, usually from top to bottom, and then takes on a different meaning when read in the opposite direction, from bottom to top.  In this specific poem reading it conventionally, from top to bottom, unveils a portrayal of the mindset of someone caught in active addiction.  Yet, when read in reverse, from bottom to top, the entire perspective changes, capturing the essence of the mindset of someone in recovery.  Regardless of Emily's personal connection to addiction, her poem beautifully conveys the intricate journey from the depths of addiction to the hopeful ascent of recovery.  Below is the poem when read conventionally, portraying the mindset of someone caught in the grips of active addiction…

In addiction

My soul is lost

I refuse to believe

That I can break out of this prison

Now I know, from the depths of my being

That recovery is unattainable

It is an absolute lie

That I am worthy of love and understanding

I will wholeheartedly confess

That my solution is in my next high

It is hopeless to think

I can get better

In case you believe otherwise

I respectfully disagree

I am too far gone and

I don’t think that

I am strong enough to fight this

You must not really know me because

I give up too easily

If you say that

I can do this

I don’t believe you

Now, upon reading it in reverse (the poem below has been reversed for you), the perspective shifts to the mindset of someone in recovery from active addiction.

I don’t believe you

I can do this

If you say that

I give up too easily

You must not really know me because

I am strong enough to fight this

I don’t think that

I am too far gone and

I respectfully disagree

In case you believe otherwise

I can get better

It is hopeless to think

That my solution is in my next high

I will wholeheartedly confess

That I am worthy of love and understanding

It is an absolute lie

That recovery is unattainable

Now I know, from the depths of my being

That I can break out of this prison

I refuse to believe

My soul is lost

In addiction

Sigerson cleverly presents a narrative that initially appears to embrace a feeling of hopelessness that is often experienced in active addiction.  It begins with a stark admission, "In addiction, my soul is lost," setting the tone for a journey through the depths of despair.  The lines, "I refuse to believe that I can break out of this prison," express a sense of entrapment, portraying addiction as an insurmountable confinement. The use of the term "prison" conveys a powerful metaphor, suggesting the inescapable nature of the struggles faced by those in the throes of active addiction.  That view is then intensified as she asserts, "Now I know, from the depths of my being, that recovery is unattainable."  Here, the poem seems to declare a definitive verdict that seeking recovery from addiction is not possible. 

The reversal, however, brings a surprising twist, exposing the inherent deception within the poem.  By untangling the words, a different narrative emerges.  The realization that "recovery is unattainable" becomes, "it is an absolute lie that recovery is unattainable."  This shift challenges the reader's initial assumptions and highlights the potential for recovery, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.  The lines stating, "it is an absolute lie that I am worthy of love and understanding," initially indicate an addict’s deep-rooted feeling of self-loathing.  However, when reversed, it transforms into a declaration of self-worth: "It is an absolute lie that I am not worthy of love and understanding."  This dual perspective beautifully captures the internal conflict within individuals struggling with addiction, torn between feelings of unworthiness and the inherent human need for love and understanding.  "I will wholeheartedly confess that my solution is in my next high," first appears as a surrender to the destructive cycle of addiction.  However, the reversal challenges the perception that drugs hold the key to resolution, emphasizing the importance of seeking healthier alternatives for coping. The poem's complexity deepens with the lines, "It is hopeless to think I can get better; in case you believe otherwise, I respectfully disagree."  The reversed version asserts, "I can get better, it is hopeless to think, that my solution is in my next high."  This perfectly encapsulates the uncertainty often experienced by individuals grappling with addiction, torn between the despair of hopelessness and the flicker of optimism that change is possible.  The poem culminates with a moving reflection on self-perception: "You must not really know me because I give up too easily. If you say that I can do this, I don’t believe you."  The reversal challenges this pessimistic attitude, transforming it into an acknowledgment of resilience: "If you say that I give up too easily, you must not really know me because I am strong enough to fight this."  This final revelation exposed in the reversal challenges stereotypes surrounding addiction, asserting the strength and potential for recovery within each struggling individual.

Emily Sigerson's reverse poem on addiction artfully navigates the complexities of drug addiction.  By manipulating language, Sigerson challenges the reader to reconsider their preconceptions and judgments regarding individuals grappling with addiction.  The reversal of the poem challenges these preconceptions and illuminates the inherent resilience and potential for recovery within individuals struggling with addiction. Sigerson’s reversal encourages an understanding of addiction, emphasizing empathy, support, and the possibility of a transformative lifestyle change.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

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.

47. The Beginning of the End

On December 14, 2019, I found myself entangled in a regrettable incident that now stands as my last criminal encounter with law enforcement.  The details of that night are somewhat hazy due to a deadly combination of Xanax and beer consumption throughout the day.  I had gotten into a car wreck somewhere on Route 207, nestled between Goshen and Campbell Hall.  In the immediate aftermath of the collision, panic set in.  In possession of around 300 Xanax pills and other assorted medications (that were not prescribed to me), I faced a dilemma that was exacerbated by the sudden appearance of a good Samaritan who had stopped to check on my well-being.  I insisted that all was fine.  I gestured a quick thumbs up and motioned for her to depart, mindful of the impending legal repercussions.  My car was wrapped around a telephone pole, and I was giving this lady a thumbs-up as if everything was fine… INSANITY.  It was a cold, rainy evening.  My attempt to dissolve my stash of drugs in a large puddle near the crash site was unsuccessful.  My thinking was totally clouded by the alcohol and drugs, and I stupidly didn’t take the pills out of the bags they were in, so they just floated on top of the puddle; much like a rubber duck floats in a bathtub full of water. For those unfamiliar with the area, Route 207 is a narrow road with a 55-mph speed limit and a State Trooper Barrack that looms just two miles away.  The ominous "whoop whoop" sound of approaching police cars confirmed the severity of my predicament and minutes later, multiple State Troopers arrived at the scene.

The interrogation unfolded swiftly as the police officers inquired into my activities that fateful night, probing about any alcohol consumption. One officer claimed to detect the unmistakable scent of alcohol on my breath, leaving me with my back against the wall.  I decided honesty might be my best option—though it was a selective truth.  Confessing to a mere two beers earlier in the evening, I conveniently omitted the six or seven additional beers I had consumed.  The next thing I remember is being in a police station, my memory failing to capture the journey there.  My pants were soaking wet from the rain and my unsuccessful attempt at hiding my stash of pills in the gulley puddle.  With one hand uncomfortably restrained to a bench with a pair of handcuffs, I remember shivering like crazy.  I asked the officers when they were going to take me to jail, anticipating the prospect of dry clothes. Astonishingly, the officer informed me that I was going to be released on my recognizance with a scheduled court date, sparing me the anticipated incarceration.  I guess I should mention that I was already a participant in drug treatment court, an alternative to incarceration, a consequence of a similar arrest six months prior that had led to a brief jail term.  Participants in drug court, bound by a strict contract, were prohibited from any arrest.  This stipulation mandated immediate reporting to our drug court counselor in the event of any police contact at all.  My crash was on Friday night, so I knew I had a weekend before getting into contact with my counselor was going to be possible.  I found myself released from the police station around five o'clock the next morning.  Stranded without a car due to the wreckage, I phoned a close friend for a ride home. Emerging from the police station, soaked and chilled to the bone, anxiety gnawed at me as the uncertain future loomed ahead.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, that arrest served as the catalyst for a profound turning point in my life.  Little did I realize that without that pivotal moment, my trajectory might have been drastically different, more than likely ending with premature death.  Exiting the police station, I braced myself for the storm awaiting me at home—anger and disappointment hanging in the air like a dark cloud. Once inside, I hopped in a warm shower and fell asleep shortly afterward. Upon awakening, I packed a bag full of clothes and prepared myself for another trip to yet another detox facility.  At this point, I found myself unprepared to embark on the journey to sobriety.  Doubt lingered, casting shadows on my belief in the possibility of achieving and maintaining a clean lifestyle.  Despite my initial skepticism, I acknowledged the profound disappointment and anger I had caused my family and wanted to try to begin fixing that to the best of my ability.  I didn’t have the slightest idea of what was in store for me in the coming days.  I entered the detox facility with the expectation of a brief stay, anticipating three to four days at most to cleanse the alcohol and drugs from my system.  If my time there had indeed been that short, I doubt I would be penning these words today.  Life often unfolds in mysterious ways.

Join me for the continuation of this journey in part two next week… and remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.

46. Journals from Rehab - Part 3

Journaling is an integral component of substance abuse rehabilitation programs for various reasons.  It provides a private space for self-reflection, allowing individuals to explore their thoughts, emotions, and behaviors, gaining insight into the underlying issues contributing to their substance abuse.  The act of journaling serves as a healthy outlet for expressing emotions, helping individuals address underlying emotional issues that may be linked to their addiction.  Through the process of writing, individuals can identify triggers, such as specific people or situations, and develop self-awareness crucial for developing effective coping strategies and avoiding relapse.  Journaling also facilitates goal setting, helping individuals clarify and track their short-term and long-term goals in the recovery process.  It serves as a documentation of progress, allowing individuals to recognize and celebrate personal growth and achievements.  Additionally, writing can be a therapeutic tool, offering a cathartic process for releasing emotions, reducing stress, and gaining control over thoughts and feelings.

As I sat in my bedroom, surrounded by the muted colors of the rehab facility, I found solace in the blank pages of my journal.  Each entry felt like a huge weight off my back and a huge step towards reclaiming a part of myself that I had lost to the clutches of addiction.  Today, these entries are a mosaic of emotions—raw and unfiltered.  I confronted the wreckage left in the wake of my substance abuse, tracing the path that led me to this point.  The entries document my fears, regrets, and the tentative sparks of hope that flicker within me.  I explored the gritty details of my past, exposing vulnerabilities that fueled my addiction. Journaling slowly became a therapeutic release, a testament to the courage it takes to face the demons within.  There's a peculiar comfort in the act of journaling.  It’s refreshing to acknowledge the patterns that held me captive for well over ten years.

As the days in rehab unfolded, my journal became a roadmap of progress.  I celebrated the small victories—days of sobriety, moments of clarity, and the genuine connections formed with others on the same path.  It's a testament to resilience, a reminder that recovery is not a linear journey but rather a collection of uphill battles.  The journal entries carry the weight of my story, offering a testament to the transformative power of healing.  I wish to emphasize to my readers that these journal entries remain entirely unaltered.  They were all penned during the immediate aftermath of my substance use and detoxification process.  During that time, my thoughts were hazy, and my writing lacked the clarity it possesses today.  I'm offering you these journals in their unadulterated form, just as they were originally penned.

“If I’m being completely honest, I don’t want to get clean.  I’m here because I don’t want to go to jail.  If I didn’t get admitted into rehab, Judge Brockett would have put out a warrant for my arrest and I’d be sitting in a cold jail cell right now.  I guess rehab is the better of my two options. I don’t feel like these groups do much of anything for me.  It’s my fourth time in this specific rehab over the course of 2-3 years and not much has changed.  The only thing that has changed is my criminal record.  Doing these arts and crafts, watching these educational videos, and participating in groups sucks.  I’m not sure there’s much hope for me when I finally leave here.  Nothing has changed the past four times, what will change now?  I miss home.  I miss my family.  I miss my friends.  I miss my dog.”

“Today, I was sitting in my bedroom with my roommate in rehab.  We were talking and he said something that really hit home for me.  We were discussing our pasts.  He is quite a bit older than me, forty-two years to be exact, but we have so much in common.  He looked me square in the eyes and he said “Kyle, I really hope you get a hold on your addiction because you don’t want to be my age, sitting here in rehab trying to pick up the pieces of your past.”  And he’s right.  I really don’t want to be pushing seventy years old sitting in rehab.  At night we need to be in our bedroom by 9:00 PM.  My roommate and I often chat a bit before falling asleep.  He’s lost everything.  His kids won’t talk to him, he’s broke, he’s got no job, and he’s homeless, but you would never guess that sitting here next to him.  I really need to get a hold of my life and figure this out before I wake up in forty years in another rehab facility.  Although it seems like I’ve lost everything, I haven’t.  I still have my family, I still have my friends, and I have another shot to get this right and turn my life around.  I really hope I get it this time.”

“From a very young age, I have had anxiety that was left untreated.  That was no one’s fault but my own because I rarely ever spoke about it.  As I grew older, I channeled my anxiety into anger.  I have an anger problem.  There’s no doubt about it.  I say cruel things that I know will hurt others.  I don’t mean it at the time but it’s like I have no control over it when it’s happening.  There are so many different things that I need to address when I leave here.  My anger, my anxiety, my depression, and the list goes on.  I just want a normal life.  I want to wake up, go to work, come home to a family, and be normal.   My family and friends are thriving in life and here I am sitting in rehab with nothing to my name.  I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get better.  I’m not sure I was completely willing in the past.  I think I am now.  I hope I am now.  I need to get out of New York because I don’t think I can get clean here.  It’s just so hard when everything around me reminds me of using.”

As I conclude my current series of journal entries, I acknowledge that the content may carry a somber tone.  Despite the heaviness of these reflections, I believe it is crucial to share them, recognizing their significance in providing a distinctive insight into my thought processes during this particular juncture of my life.  Transparency in sharing these moments, even if they lean towards the somber, allows for a genuine and unfiltered glimpse into my experiences, fostering understanding and connection.

And remember, 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 able to help spread awareness today.