A Journey Through Rehab
Bags Packed & Leaving Home
Today is the day. My worldly goods all packed in to one bag. Everything else doesn’t matter. The house is eerily quiet, and, except for me, it is empty. I sit nervously and wait, quietly reflecting on all I have lost: my career; my friends; the trust of my family; my marriage, and most painful by far; my beloved children. My whole body is shaking with fear, fear of the unknown and what lies ahead.
My last drink was 2 days ago, I’m terrified to take another, my mind is twisted and I’m scared of my own thoughts. I used to enjoy a drink, hazy memories of partying the night away, cold beers on a warm summers evening. But those times were long gone, now alcohol had taken everything. After the first drink I would lose all sense of reality, I would drink and drink and drink until I could physically drink no more. My morals were dead and buried, I would drive my car drunk, closing one eye to try and focus on the road ahead. I would disappear without explanation on a binge; I became obnoxious, cold and uncaring one minute, then tearful, pitiful and full of remorse the next. I had become unpredictable, unreliable and unlovable. When I wasn’t drinking I was in constant mental torture and fear, when I was drinking everyone else suffered. When sober I was terrified of dying, when drunk I would try to take my own life. I and everyone I loved were trapped in this living hell. I was scared to drink but compelled to at the same time. It didn’t make sense to me or anyone else.
Doctors and Psychiatrists had tried to help me, sedating me with medication, yet I still continued to drink and developed a reliance on the medication as well. I would swear to my family I was going to stop, and I meant it, but like a bolt out of the blue, the thought would come….maybe I will just have one…..it wasn’t that bad really…..this time will be different. The obsession would grow inside my head; consuming every thought until eventually I succumbed to its power. The mornings after were always hell, I would shake from head to toe, retching as I would stagger to the bathroom, a big ball of fear churning inside my stomach. The only thing that calmed me was my sedatives. I had developed a pattern of drinking to oblivion in the evenings and getting through the day using a cocktail of sedatives. I thought I was managing, I thought this was normal. I didn’t know any other way. Life was about existing; I had accepted I would never be the person I had hoped to be. I had let myself and everyone down yet had no energy or strength to change it. In truth I didn’t know how to change it. I was lost.
I pace up and down waiting for the car to arrive, trying to keep my mind focused , reassuring myself that I’m doing the right thing. I’ve made a huge sacrifice knowing that I couldn’t carry on the way I was, knowing that I would die. I’m barely eating or sleeping; I’m full of guilt and shame. My children are with my husband who I’m separated from, I had to let them go, I have to sort myself out. The next 12 weeks are a mystery, I don’t know what to expect. I’m leaving everything I know and everyone I love. I feel like this is my last chance, I HAVE to get it right. I’m going to addiction rehab.
Next: A Journey Through Rehab – Day One