- Alcohol
- Mental Health
The night before I came into the program for good, I was completely defeated. My ego was shot. My problems were my own, and I understood that I needed help living. The night before I threatened to kill myself. I told a friend who was teaching English in North Korea, and she called the police from Korea. They took me to a hospital for observation for the night, and the next day I was released. My father came to pick me up. I found myself homeless that day, and I lost my job. My father took me in, and I went to a meeting.
My future sponsor shared at the young people’s group that night, and I remembered him from my previous year in and out of recovery. He made sense. He was calm. He seemed okay with life, and it seemed other members appreciated and respected him. I wanted that so I asked him to be my sponsor.
He asked me two questions. He asked me if I was willing to go to any lengths for sobriety. I said yes. He asked me if I was willing to do what I don’t want to do when I don’t want to do it. I said yes, and I have lived by those answers since that night. That was November 1, 2011. I’m still here, and I’m happy. I rent my own house now. I manage a parts and services department at a car dealership. I am starting my own web start-up company. I have service commitments galore. I have sponsees. I have worked the steps with my sponsor. I have so many friends. My family respects and trusts me again. I love myself. I am good enough today. I have a design for living that allows me the opportunity to help others every single day. I no longer hide away with a half a handle of booze followed up with whatever drugs I could find. I am happy, joyous and free.
The following is a snippet of where I have been. I wrote this when I was 31 and in the midst of my first run-in with recovery. It lasted six months and was followed by another stint of recovery that lasted another six months. I find it hard to call it “recovery” now, because I didn’t do any work. I wasn’t going to a meeting everyday. I wasn’t calling a sponsor or talking to another alcoholic. I wasn’t doing good deeds or service for others in or out of the program. I wasn’t praying in the morning or at night. I am so grateful that I don’t live in this space anymore.
I’m sitting in the parking lot with my high beams on, a pocket full of danger and nowhere to go. I think I will head on over to wherever and do what I want. Boy it’s late. I need to find a place to sleep tonight. I have to get up for work in the morning. What a crappy job anyway. Maybe I will just find another one after I lose this one, because I’m not going. I have this pocket full of danger and nowhere to go.
Sometimes I play the music really loud, and sometimes I play it just loud enough to sing along. I know I sound good, but I want to reassure myself. Sometimes I put the windows down because I know the people who have their windows down would love to hear what I have on in my world. I will turn it up at a red light. I will play the steering wheel like a guitar or a piano or a trumpet just so you know that I know the song like the back of my hand. I don’t know how to play any instruments. When the green light hits, I leave your sight, and I put my windows back up because it’s cold.
I put my pocket full of danger into the cup holder now, and I drive around aimlessly. I thought I knew where to go, but I was lying to myself again. The only place I can go is home, and I can’t go there yet. I have driving to do. I better make sure I don’t break the speed limit. I am in a 40mph zone. I will set my cruise control to 41 and just maneuver the wheel. I have to take back roads. I am on the back roads. I need to get on the highway. I am on the highway. I have to get on the back roads. I have to get on the highway. I have to go north. I have to go south. I need to go over the bridge. I have to get back home. I’s not late enough yet. It’s too early.
Text messaging is an amazing invention. It makes it easier for me to bother you. What I need to tell you is perfectly reasonable right now. I know you will appreciate what I have to say. It’s only 3am, and it’s worth it. Why won’t you respond? I will send you another one. Maybe I should apologize. I will send an apology. I will write you again. I will profess my love. You will respond to that. I will text and drive. My pocket full of danger is still beside me. I need you to answer me. I will try again. I will try again. I will try again. It’s 4am, and you aren’t around. I will try again tomorrow. I have to get home. No I don’t. I need gas.
Maybe if I get home now I can sleep for three hours and make it to work. That’s what I will do. I am going to go home. I can look for another job while I have this one, and that makes more sense. My pocket full of danger is empty tonight, and I’m in need of sleep. I am 40 minutes from home now. I don’t know where I am, but I will take this road this way and see where the next light says I am. Wow I am here. I will get home in a little bit then I will hit the bed.
I tear off my clothes and jump into bed. The first itch hits my leg. There is an itch on my arm. I hear buzzing in my ear, buzzing on my bed. I see a bug on my arm. It runs to the other side of my arm, and I turn my arm to catch it, but I can’t find it now. They crawl up my leg and tickle my knees. I run to the bathroom and look at my back in the mirror because I feel them all over. There is buzzing in my ear, and I flinch. I jump in the shower because that will wash off what I can’t see. I dry off, and it starts again. I tiptoe my way into bed.
My mouth is dry and I try to take a sip of water. It feels like my teeth will shatter when I try to swallow. My teeth feel so brittle. I feel like my tongue is going to push them out of their roots. I will wake up with no teeth. What will I tell my family when they see me with no front teeth? I need to sleep. I roll over. I roll over. I roll over. I roll over. I take a sip of water. I itch. I roll over, over, over, itch, swallow, itch, over. I’m hot now. I will turn the air conditioning lower. I tiptoe back to bed. I look at my watch, and I see that I have to get up in forty minutes. I will set my alarm for thirty minutes, and that will give me time to get ready or hit the snooze button once.
I wake up seven hours later. I missed work. I am fired. I have missed calls from my parents. What will I say? I remember my texts. How will I explain them? I am broke. Where will I get more money now? I melt down, break down. When this happens I like to just pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep. There is a knock at the door. Family came to check on me. Oh boy I feel like sh*% and don’t want to deal with them.
I’m glad they dealt with me though.
Trips through insanity happen over and over, if we don’t recognize them. I’m happy where I am today. I drive my car during the day to specific places. I have a pocket full of hope. I still put my windows down at red lights.
(Thank you Hillary for sharing this website with me.)