When I walked into detox in April 2018 I was defeated, depressed, anxious and ill. They couldn’t find a bed for me and I was following staff around with my clothes in the trash bag they gave me. I was two minutes away from walking out the door. The people I saw were nothing like me (so I thought). They were homeless or so young I thought I must be in the wrong place. That mistake of comparing myself out kept me in the cups for many years. The bonds I made in rehab will never be forgotten. Every one of those friends has relapsed and only a few have made it out on this side: the side of sobriety. Two of the good friends I made are serving life sentences. Another two are dead from heroin/fentanyl. Still others have dropped off the face of the earth. What they probably don’t know is that they kept me sober for months. The talks we had in treatment were raw, real, and eye opening. It didn’t matter what we were addicted to. What mattered was that we couldn’t get the monkeys off our backs no matter how hard we tried. I’ve tried to get sober alone many times. I could never do it. I blamed my willpower, my Irish ancestry, my anxiety and stress. I never recognized that I NEED other people in recovery to stay sober. If I isolate it’s over. If I hang out with friends who are using it’s over. For once I got honest with myself, and this time it worked. I think of these fiends often and reach out to them. When they’re ready they’ll reach back. If not, I just hope they find happiness without the needle or a bottle. Life is too precious to waste on hangovers. Happy Wednesday, sober family. Keep it simple today.
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