The Story of Recovery Red

[RecoveryRed]

I still have nightmares about the obsession and compulsion to use. I dream about that old, haunting, more-powerful-than-me urge that used to take over my mind and body and lead me further down the path of self destruction. And I am filled with gratitude when I wake up. I don't have to do that today. I don't have to walk out on my job with no explanation to go seek drugs. I don't have to spend desperate hours sitting in the doctor's office listening to that horrible soft jazz crap, praying my lies will get me what I need. I don't have to be alone in my apartment, in the dark, doors locked, phone unplugged, blinds drawn, unshowered, dishes undone, nobody is coming to look for me anymore...I don't have to live like that today. Thanks to the miracle of recovery and the grace of my Higher Power.

Looking back, I can see that I have been an addict most of my life, before I ever picked up a drug. I used anything and everything I could to change how I felt, to try to NOT feel. I was told things like "don't cry" and "don't get angry" so I learned that I was supposed to be able to control my feelings. And by using people, places, and things, I was able to do that for awhile. It wasn't until I got clean that I learned (and am still learning) how to process an emotion in a healthy way.

Before I found drugs, I used sugar, boys, and over-achievement to change how I felt. When I found drugs at 16 (first alcohol, then pot, and finally prescription pain medication), it was on. Drugs allowed me to escape my feelings faster than anything I had ever used. My tumultuous love affair began.

When I used, I put myself in a lot of unsafe situations that only increased my self-hatred. I was date-raped at 19, by a trusted family friend, and I told no one because I was drunk and high at the time.

I lived for many years blaming everything and everyone for my problems--I was the victim, nothing was ever my fault--I was not able to see my part in my life, which was slowly but surely falling apart.

My disease progressed very quickly once I found opiates. I have a physical condition that allowed me easy access to pills. I spent years playing the doctor/pharmacy-shopping game, and was eventually banned from urgent cares everywhere I lived. I lied, cheated, stole, embezzled, committed fraud, and did anything I needed to do to get my drugs. If I was in your house, I was in your medicine cabinet. All of these actions, and every pill I took, led to the demoralization of my soul and spirit. By the time I was ready to ask for help, I was a shell.

I had my moment of clarity one day while I was in the shower--I looked down at my arms, which were torn up, red and raw from the many fentanyl patches I kept on them--and I realized I was a junkie. It may not have been a needle, but it didn't matter. I fell on my knees and cried "I can't do this alone...I can't do this alone."

And one of the reasons it took me SO LONG to ask for help is that I always thought I was SUPPOSED to do it alone. Be strong, handle it, do it yourself. I am so grateful that recovery has taught me that not only do I not HAVE to do it myself, but I simply CANNOT do it myself. Today, I am happy to tell you all that I NEED HELP.

Once I did that, the help poured in--my family helped me get into a 28 day rehab, which changed my life. I hated just about every minute of it, because after YEARS of being high EVERY SECOND OF MY LIFE, I was left to deal with the wreckage of myself that I had created. It was the hardest thing I have ever done...asking for help, then feeling my feelings--feelings I had supressed my entire life.

All of us that have been newcomers know the roller coaster ride of emotions we experience when we first get clean. And for me, it SUCKED. It was so difficult to just SIT in my feelings, and wait for them to pass. But I did...I held on, and I kept breathing...and guess what? The feelings changed. And to this day, that is something I hold onto dearly...when I am going through a rough time, I remember that if I can hold on and keep breathing, eventually, things WILL change...my sponsor told me that one of the reasons people relapse is that they don't wait for the change...

Growing up, whatever I thought and felt is what I did. I was a slave to my thoughts and emotions, which I tried so desperately to supress. Today, through the grace of my Higher Power and my program of recovery, I am able to FEEL my feelings, THINK my thoughts--to honor them, and NOT ACT OUT ON THEM in unhealthy ways. If I feel anger, I allow myself to really feel it instead of pretending it's not there or using something to change it. I write about it, I pray about it, I talk about it. Then, I don't have to ACT OUT on it! It's truly an amazing concept that, prior to my recovery, I had no idea existed. When I feel sad, I allow myself to cry, and I know that my sadness is a valid and beautiful part of my process.

Today, I can truly say that I love myself, I accept myself, and I forgive myself. Today I am a work in progress--imperfect and lovely and lovable. I am so grateful to be clean, just for today.

Recovery Red