Two Steps Back

Chapter One

Another Chance

December 31, 2019

It was a cloudy, damp New Year’s Eve. I had just lost everything that was rightfully mine to my latest alcohol binder that lasted six miserable months. There was no end in sight for me to stop the demolition on my already battered perspective and personality alone, so I admitted myself into a medical detox two counties east. It was right at a quarter after ten when I piled myself and a sloppily packed duffel bag into the cramped backseat of a Prius. I looked through the rain streaked window at my quaint little abode that I hated to think I would not get to call home anymore and reminded myself that I had failed miserably at attempting to live life on life’s terms, once again, and that in itself reminded me that so far in life i had been nothing more than a complete fuck up. The hope that I did have for myself was squashed by the recent events that I had deemed to be my life set in stone.

My heart sank as I watched my home leave sight. When the uber pulled away from the curb, I could not help but notice the driver and how attractive that i found him. I also could not help but notice how desperate and pathetic i would look and sound if i was to hit on my uber to detox. So I decided to keep conversation as minimal as possible, I was not in the mood for small talk anyhow, seeing how I was too busy wallowing in my self-pity; Definitely not in any shape to try and initiate a romantic relationship. I had not had a drink that morning, so the DTs were beginning to take revenge on my body for starving it of its foreign love. The drive to Scottsboro was about two hours. I had never been to this town for I was told by some of the wiser that there was nothing good to come out of visiting Jackson County. Righteously, I could have cared less where the place was, this was the only detox I could find that granted beds for certain situations and I just so happened to fit the criteria. I was terrified to come off alcohol for the first time, but i was eager to get it over with and feel normal again.

Along the ride there I watched the water flow from one side, underneath to the other as we sped across the bridge to I-565. The river was choppy and the wind distributed white caps all across the surface. It was basically a straight shot all the way there. There wasn't much to look at except the faded lines on the highway, or the sagging clouds up above. Arriving at the hospital I looked up and seen the bright red letters that read, ‘EMERGENCY ROOM ENTRANCE’. Was I an emergency? I surely did not think so. The butterflies in my stomach began to flutter and i felt like i might vomit as my anxiety grew inside of my chest. Anticipating what was to come the next few days scared me shitless. I was terrified of withdrawing, but even more terrified to keep drinking.

A short, thick woman with long dark hair and brown eyes greeted me in the lobby. She was pushing a wheelchair that I assumed was for me. I was right, she ushered me into the chair, and I felt oddly vulnerable. It was like I was being gaucked at by everyone. Retreating back into my shell would have been the ideal thing to do, if i was a turtle of course. My only defense was to put my head down and close my eyes. I tried not to let any tears well up in my eyes, but the fear of my reality had a running start and then plowed directly into the realization center in my brain. Again, why did I put myself in this position again? I truly despised the answer to that question, but it seemed like i just hadn't heard it enough yet. She pushed me onto the elevator that took us to the detox wing that was on the 4th floor of the hospital. The walls were an incredibly hideous pale salmon color. The floor was a creamer white with horrid green tile every four or five steps. Nonetheless, it was a very institutionalized décor. Strangely, I felt somewhat at home.

A couple of agonizing hours later my intake paperwork was finally filled out and I began my detox meds shortly after I got situated into my room. I sat there on the bed and examined the room in which i would be dying for the next week. It was a decent sized hospital room, bigger than most. The heater sucked ass and the shower was boiling hot or pouring snowballs, but why should i complain when I myself was homeless. I peered out of the almost ceiling to floor window at a beautiful mountain top. It appeared as if it was painted, it was flawless as to where I was defective in every way. Even in that thought though, I was grateful to have so much beauty in such a dully fashioned place. There was a small bench against the wall, caddy-cornered from my bed that I used as a sort of dresser so i wouldn't have to live out of my duffel bag for the next week. I was in the first room on the right-hand side of the wing, which meant I got the first meds of the day. Being an addict, you already know that, that is an extremely crucial plus. I, unlike the other clients there, didn't have to wait anticipating each foot step and wheel squeel of the nurse's cart.

That night I spent my time getting a shower and journaling about my first day endeavors. It had been an extremely long day and I could feel my body screaming for a double shot of Crown. The detox meds helped only so much with cravings and my pores pulsed with agony as my nerve endings were rubbed raw when restless legs set in. My hands were shaking like two leaves in a windstorm, I couldn’t even hold a cup of anything without spilling it everywhere. I felt like a victim of Parkinson’s disease.

However, I kept my spirits up even though I was detoxing, and I had destroyed my life single-handedly, again. The thought of not having to wake up every morning and choke down a shot or be at the liquor store at six a.m. was EXTREMELY attractive to me. It seemed like a far fetched dream life that would be impossible to attain. I could not help but count down the days, I mean do not get me wrong I was in no hurry to leave hence I had nowhere to be or go afterwards. Still, I was so overly excited to sweat all the poison out of my system and start feeling like ME again.

I had missed me, a lot. I knew the person that I had potential to be. There was a delicately genuine soul inside of me somewhere, and I wanted more than anything to recapture it. I wanted to pay my own bills again, to have my own place, my own car, pay my own way for everything. I wanted my job with benefits and good pay back. I wanted the life that I so nonchalantly gave up, back. Mostly, I wanted my free spirit back. The real me, the one that would help anyone that needed it. The person that would go to the ends of the earth to make someone's day just a little bit better. That employee that went over the top because she wanted to, not because she was told to. I wanted to take initiative again, in all aspects of my life. Going to detox without someone offering a helping hand first, was my first step to taking initiative in my life again. I had thrown everything away for the warmth of a shot of whiskey, it was time for me to get it all back for the sake of my own sanity.

Having been through something like this before, i was aware of what to expect when starting from ground zero. It is NOT easy starting from scratch, especially when you have done it over and over again just to hand it right back to the drug of choice while looking back at your loved ones and grinning like a opossom. Relapsing always makes me think of making a promise with your fingers crossed behind your back. I hated admitting that to some extent i had been a subconscious pathological liar my entire life. This time i was going to really tighten up my reigns on life and on myself. I just had six days to go and my brain would be able to process how to do that more efficiently.

The next day, I woke up at 3:30 a.m. craving the hell out of a cigarette. One of the rules was no one goes downstairs without a counselor. Also, there were designated smoke break times; 9 a.m., noon, 3 p.m., 6 p.m., and once more at 9 p.m. Nicotine patches and gum were available to those that desired a fix that bad. I dont think that they helped very much, psychosymatically maybe, but not really. Going back to sleep wasn't an option. The calododine had worn off over the night hours so i was up for the day. I would pace the halls and read books they had set out in the group room due to the mind boggling insomnia. Walking constantly was the only relief i could find for my legs and all the shaking the DTs gave me. Well, that and literally beating my legs with the remote to the t.v.

The group topics, along with everything that was discussed are a bit blurry to me now. I was on a boat load of medication so memory lapse is not unexpected when you are in a place like that. I recall having a lot of time to think. I thought about my family and how much i missed them. I thought about my life, how i had run away from all my friends and re grouped with losers to suffice the lonliness. I thought about how i had torn apart my father's peace of mind and how much more i disappointed him versus made him proud, about how i had trusted the wrong people my whole life and how i gave everyone else, except myself, the power to influence my decisions instead of being my own person.

I wasn't the only one that had self-hosted pity parties though. The others that were there with me all felt the same way, of course. We could sit there and talk for hours about all the bullshit we had dispursed into our families as well as our communitites; The war stories of getting high and drunk and some of the places and situations that we had ended up in as a result. I actually recall I interrupted a group discussion either my third of fourth day and asked why we were focusing on all the problems that we all already knew were there. Why hadn't we touched on what could be done to resolve those problems instead of glorifying them and making so much light out of them as if they were simple mistakes. I realized quickly that if i was to take anything good from being in that hospital, it was going to be entirely up to me.

The days seemed to stretch out and mesh together. Ultimately waiting for a smoke break. My brain had started to flex again, and by the fourth day i felt more like myself, I was ecstatic. I could sense a bit of goodness starting to scratch the surface of my heart that had been covered in the black veil of addiction. My mind was beginning to slow down a little bit from the whirlwind of destruction that plagued my thought process as well. I knew what my options were and that was leave walking and roam the unfamiliar streets, or go to a halfway house. For those who don't know, halfway houses are not cheap and a lot of them will not allow entry unless you have an intake fee and first month's rent. Now, me being homeless and broker than M.C. Hammer, I wasn't financially prepared for a halfway house's demands.

Since my first day there i had started praying again. Every morning thanking Him for waking me up and every evening thanking Him for another day in the book. I'm not a religious person nor do i claim to be. I've learned that i am a spiritual being, having a human experience. Along with that human experience comes divine intervention and i do believe that's what placed me where i ended up. There is no other explanation for it except that in my opinion. I humbly gave thanks for His will being done and not mine and i was beyond blessed with some really good news.

I was informed by the director, that I had a bed waiting on me at a halfway house only a couple of miles down the road, there in a small, blink of an eye town they called Woodville. The director of the detox along with two of the counselors had been through that same program themselves and assured me it was a really good place to go to start fresh, and to get a sturdy foundation for my recovery. I was not too sure at first because i had never heard of this place before then. With good reason to feel that way, the catch was that it was faith based. I'm spiritual, not religious. I was not too keen on the thought of going to a halfway house that was trying to Bible thump me to death. I had my own relationship with God and i liked it the way that it was. Explaining all of this to my counselors, once again I was assured that it being labeled faith-based, didn't make it much different than most of the other places I had been before. Keeping an open mind, would be key to success if i was going to go.

It did not take long to make a decision to go or not because I had nowhere else TO go. Not only that, but I also needed some structure back in my life as well as help building it back up. My nerves were shot to hell and back at the thought of going. I really didn't know what to expect and i tried not to drive myself crazy with wonder. All i knew was what i was told by the staff there at the hospital. The same woman that brought me upstairs via wheelchair, took me downstairs the same way. We said our goodbyes and she wished me luck, as I did her. They arranged transportation for me from the detox to the halfway house. When we got outside she pointed out who it was that was waiting on me. I didn't know those folks from Eve but getting into the backseat of their mini van with their two year old daughter seemed like an unjust way to transport drug addicts that they had never met.

They were a married couple that picked me up and were also the daughter and son-in-law of the folks that ran the halfway house. My first impression of the woman was that she was a complete bitch. She was snippy and a very rude encounter each time we spoke. Her husband, he was kind, just quiet. I would be too if i was married to such a snob. Not too much was talked about on the ride from detox to the halfway house. There was another client in the car when they picked me up. He would soon become one of my friends, I just didn't know it yet. There was nothing but mountains, after mountains, and trees as far as the eye could see. I began second guessing myself wondering if i had made a mistake, but i didn't let my paranoid mind get the best of me. I didn't truly believe that they were going to take me out into the woods and murder me, but then again, these people were complete strangers. I didn't know who they were or where they came from. I just did what i was told and got into the car with them, taking other's words for it that i would be in safe hands.

All that may sound a little far fetched, but when your body is coming off drugs and/or alcohol... it is easy to make since of things that to most people, are WAYYY out in left field.

We arrived and i examined the church as i exited the mini-van. It sat tucked back behind a line of old-fashioned, brick houses and across a set of railroad tracks. The church was small with a white steeple. Holly bushes grew out front behind the sidewalk. I got out and the first person that i seen was my dad. His look expressed happiness to see me, but aggitation because of the setting. Still though, he had brought me some clothes to go through and i was so happy to see him. I gave him a huge hug and told him how much i loved him. He said it back, popped the trunk, and i began filtering through garbage bags of winter clothes that smelt like cigarette smoke.

My dad and I spoke for a few minutes and then we said our good-byes. Stress began to build right behind my eyes causing a headache. I couldn't believe that I had done this.. again! Dad, running to jump through hoops for me. I hated the fact that I was always a burden and an inconvienance, never a contribution to my family. Always taking and seldomly giving back.