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It was the day before my sixteenth birthday and I was getting ready to head out the house for my usual rounds with the ‘boys’. I was dressed in all black from head to toe. I felt like such a badass, like who could dare F with me!? There was a sense of anger I had harbored for many years and it really showed up in my teens. There was nothing anyone could tell me. I was hard headed and easily influenced, mostly by the wrong people.
My family suffered the most from my behavioral problem, especially my mother. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her son. Why was he acting the way he was? Why was he getting high all the time? Was it adolescence or something more? What she did know for sure was that it was too much for her to handle. My little brother observed in silence as his big brother went wayward and my sisters looked on trying to advise but failing miserably.
So, on that day as I sat down in the living room having breakfast, planning out my day full of the usual shenanigans, she walked in with a stern look on her face and said “your getting tested today or you move out of my house!”. “Tested for what?” I asked. “For those things you’ve been taking, I’m sick of it! Your flushing your life down the toilet and I’m not going to sit back and watch you do it. You either get tested or you leave this house” she replied.
The first time I had a drink was when I was fourteen. I was with my neighbor who was sixteen at the time and we were right outside our house at about eleven o’clock in the evening. My mom thought I was asleep. She would later come to hear my voice getting louder outside and find me with a beer in hand, unable to construct a sentence. That was the beginning of my relationship with alcohol and drug addiction.
My parents had split when I was growing up and my mom moved us around a lot. We’d never stay in one place long enough for us to call it home. We just lived in houses not homes. She was working extra hard to put food on the table and that meant that we didn’t spend a lot of time together. When she was home, she would stay in her room, not to be disturbed. Only much later would she admit to us that she was depressed. We kind of had to grow up figuring a lot of things out by ourselves.
As a kid growing up, I didn’t understand a lot of the things that were happening around me like why we had to move around so much, why we moved away from dad or why we never spent time with mum. It manifested in fits of rebellion which was actually attention seeking now that I look back on it. I’d refuse to go to school, cause trouble at home, talk back at my mom, bully my siblings. All to get noticed and feel seen.
By the time I was seated in that living room at sixteen I had turned into a full-on addict. Regularly drinking alcohol, avid marijuana smoker and eager to find the next high. I’d stay out late, not talk to anyone, smoke and drink inside the house, changed my appearance, began to act strange, things would go ‘missing’ from the house and I was falling deeper and deeper into a world of petty crime and alcohol and substance abuse.
I thought about disagreeing but I didn’t have anywhere to stay and I had a few instances where she had kicked me out which wasn’t very pleasant so I decided to go for the test. She knew I was an alcoholic but wasn’t sure of what else I was taking. My plan was simple, we get to the medical center, I get tested and get out of there as quick as possible. Before anything suggestive happens. Needless to say, the plan fell apart as soon as we arrived.
I was tested. It came back positive for marijuana. Things got heated and I tried to leave but was quickly held down by some male nurses and hit with a tranquilizer. I later came to learn that it was nicknamed “the stopper” and we would all tell stories of how we got tranquilized which was a huge source of laughter for everyone at the rehab center.
I woke up in a holding room in the middle of the night which I found out the next day is because I became violent after the shot. Next morning, they got me out and I knew I would not be going back home anytime soon. I met with a doctor who interviewed me to find out about the extent of my alcohol and substance abuse. Turns out it was pretty high for a sixteen-year-old and I was transferred to a rehab center the next day.
The ride was long and quiet. It was just me and the driver who worked for the rehab center. I don’t remember thinking about much, I guess I was just drugged up from the withdrawal medication. We arrived soon which seemed like ages. It was a place in the middle of the highlands, far from the city, cold and secluded with greenery everywhere.
I got out the car and was taken to my room. Later, I was introduced to my counsellor who showed me around the place. It was a neatly built bungalow seated on a spacious piece of land. Soon, the ‘grand tour’ was over and I went to sit in the tv room. Everyone there was way older than me, they all came up to me and said hello. They asked what I was in for and they each followed up with their ‘drug of choice’. We were about ten people in total. We talked for a bit then we went out for a cigarette with a few of the guys. They didn’t allow cigarettes in the place but somehow these guys had cigarettes.
I would come to know the guys well and we would talk about why we did the things we did. Our lives prior to meeting at the rehab center and pretty much anything and everything. We became tight with a few of the guys and everyone looked out for me being the youngest one. I didn’t understand the twelve steps or what being in denial meant, I don’t think I even understood anything about recovery. I was just there because I was forced to be there.
A month into my stay I convinced one of the guys to give me some cash he had stashed away and a few of the other guys to help me break out of the place. In one day, we planned my escape and I squeezed myself out the fence the next evening. I was free or so I thought at the time. I walked for a long distance before I got to the main road and caught a bus to the city. I went straight to a bar and bought some alcohol. No one ever asked me for my i.d. I guess that always made it easier for me to drink.
Two years later I voluntarily checked myself into rehab. Things had gotten out of control and it was generally a tough time for our family. I especially remember my mother being hospitalized due to a depressive episode she had. It was the first time I saw her truly weak and unenthusiastic about life. It was tough but I knew I had to take the step.
I was in my final year of high school at the time. I stopped showing up to school and went straight into rehab. This time I knew I had to work the program and be there for however long it was recommended I stay. Much like the first time, it was in the outskirts of the city, full of greenery and cold, as I remember. It was a more bare-boned place than the first time. Spacious grounds to jog and lay on the grass, a few sheep, a pool table outside, a small makeshift gym, the house was much smaller and we were four people per room. We were around fifteen people in total.
Same as the first time I arrived and was greeted by everyone there. This time I found them having their evening meeting. It was a bit tense; I was still in denial. A part of me felt like I was better than everyone there. I was just there to do my time and leave. Once again, I was the youngest person there at eighteen years. I honestly thought I’d find someone my age but it never happened. No one around my age ever came there during my stay.
At first, I would fight the process by sleeping during group meetings, refusing to participate, debating with the counsellors on the definitions of addiction and what truly makes one an addict. I would say things like, “I’m not an addict, I don’t even drink that much, at least not as much as so and so”. It was a tough hill to climb for anyone that tried to get through to me. This went on for about a month then things changed once I started to realize the state everyone else was in also reflected on me. It’s like, if I look at someone else and I feel like they’re in bad shape and were both in the same place then what does that say about the shape I’m in?
I began to be more open minded and willing to look within and think objectively. I became more open and willing to share in group sessions and one on one’s. I admitted for the first time that I was an addict. I started to work the steps. I would wake up, have breakfast and go lift weights which I had never done before. It was different this time around because I was more conscious of my thoughts and how they affected my actions.
I had thought about running away the first month but this place was air tight. They were fully prepared for such a scenario and after a deep analysis I concluded that the consequences far outweighed the benefits. Deep down I also knew that as much as I wanted to leave, I also wanted to stay. This was going to be my home for the next three months.
I got to know the guys and we became good friends. Always joking around and each sharing their experiences. I got to hear from fathers, husbands, brothers and sons everyone with something new to teach. I put on weight and learned how to bench press. I was less angry at the world now that I had began to identify some of my underlying issues. I can’t say that I was healed but I began to understand myself.
For the first time in my life I could learn to identify an emerging behavioral pattern and assess whether it was healthy or not. I learned how to be more honest and not feel like I have to hide parts of who I am. I had moments of weakness as will anyone else but I was willing to learn from it.
All in all, my time in rehab was an experience that shaped my life for the better. I finally accepted that I was an addict. Something that was not possible for me to understand nor see yet everyone around me had already seen that in me hence my being sent to rehab the first time. Nine years ago, I walked out of rehab a lot more knowledgeable and even though I’ve had a number of slips and stints of alcoholism since then I always know there’s light at the end of the tunnel and that my sobriety will always be at the center of my life.
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