One Hundred days have passed since alcohol has passed my lips. One hundred days mixed with pain, regret, sorrow, learning, self discovery, acceptance and finally gratitude... Officially program wise it isn't a significant number, but I choose to honor and recognize it. A lot has happened in the preceding days. Time for a recap...
October 17, 2012: I woke up in a detox unit, well I got of a hospital bed since I really didn't sleep my first night on the unit. My roommate, was a terrible snorer. Couple that with the anxiety of being back in surroundings that I swore I wouldn't ever see again, I went without sleep. After getting up, I found the day room. I grabbed a cup of nasty tasting decaf coffee and looked around to notice I was one of three Caucasians in a room dominated by African American and Latinos. I remember thinking to myself, "what have you got yourself into this time?"
The first lesson I was to learn in my first six days, was that no matter the difference of color, ethnic, or economic background, alcoholics and addicts all share the same pain and suffering. I also learned that no matter who, what or where, when we group together; we can help each other.
Over the next six days, I grew to love all of those people. I felt a kinship with every one of them.
October 20, 2012: I left the detox unit with my sponsor and came back to my apartment to clean out all of the left over booze so that when I returned from my 28 days of rehab it would be a safe place. I wasn't prepared for what we walked into... My apartment looked like a squatters flat. There were empty bottles and beer cans strewn all about. Food that had been partially eaten was on the floor. After six days of drinking, I had created a disgusting mess... It took us a good hour to get rid of everything and try to make the place look presentable enough for my return. Truthfully, I was shocked at where my life had ended up after taking the first drink. Gratefully, that was the extent of the damage. After all, I hadn't seriously hurt myself or anyone else, or wound up in jail...
October 21, 2012: I found myself in the beautiful surroundings of Father Martin's Ashley. I was greeted by smiling faces and warm welcomes. At first, I thought someone had made a mistake in sending me to such nice place. After all, I really didn't feel like I deserved to be there.
I soon found out that there was a lot more to this place than great food (they have a chef on staff)and a scenic view of the Chesapeake. The next 28 days were to be some of the toughest I've ever encountered. There was no television, no music and a very intensive schedule of lectures, groups and 12 Step meetings. From 6:00 AM to 9:00 PM on most days we had someplace to be. Even the recreational activities kept me busy. I learned a great deal about the relapse process, the neurobiology of chemical dependence, and many other things. But what has helped me the most was how to open up to other men and to be honest. (thankfully, they kept the sexes as separate as possible) At around the third week there a group of us would gather before bedtime and have very honest conversations. We had some laughs too, but mostly we supported whoever needed it the most on the given night. I grew very close to some of those guys. There were some amazing men there. Some of whom I'm still in contact with. I'll be forever grateful for those evening chats. They really helped me so much!
November 21, 2012: When I stepped out of the van that took me to BWI, I was so scared. I wasn't sure how or if I could stay sober outside of the safe haven of F.M.A.. I was greeted with two challenges right off the bat. During my sabbatical, my phone had been turned off. Normally not a big deal, but for some reason I wasn't able make a payment out of my bank account. And much to my dismay, in the age of cell phones; finding a pay phone to correct the problem wasn't an option! So there I was stuck in Baltimore with no access to other sober people. To make matters worse, there was fog in Chicago, so my flight was delayed for nearly three hours... I have been in the wilderness alone in my lifetime, but never have I felt so isolated, ironic, considering I was in an airport the day before Thanksgiving! I must have said the serenity prayer every ten minutes until I got on the plane! Somehow I made it home, rectified my communication and banking problems and didn't pick up a drink! I often hear don't forget your last day of drinking. I however don't ever want to forget that four hours spent in Baltimore!
November 27, 2012: I met her for coffee. It was one of the most painful hours of my life. She told me she was through. That she couldn't go on because my relapsing was too much for her. I wanted to beg and plead with her not to go, but in my heart I knew she was right in what she was doing. As we left the coffee shop, we hugged and parted ways. I haven't seen her since. The hole in my heart was so enormous, I didn't think it would ever heal... Somehow, I managed to arrange to meet a friend for meeting (one of my readers) afterward. It was probably the best thing I could have ever done. It set the tone from that moment on. I was learning to reach out for help...
December 25-January 1, 2012/13: Somehow, I made it though the holidays. I look back now and see that if it weren't for some important people in my life, I couldn't have done it. Christmas was spent working. It helped keep my mind off of being lonely over the holiday. New Years Day was spent with some friends and at meetings. Both days passed without a desire to drink. I didn't think that would be possible a month before...
January 2-24, 2013: Things have really progressed in the last 22 days. I've made some new friendships as a result of continuing to attend the same meetings regularly. Old friendships have been bolstered as well. The amount of gratitude I have experienced has really grown in the past two weeks. I'm at the point where I look forward to going to meetings. My heartache has subsided a lot. Although there are moments of grief, for the most part I am no longer paralyzed by it. The sense of who I am is starting to come back. I'm gaining a "can do" attitude. Even my financial situation seems more manageable than I thought it would be. When I was in rehab, I was convinced that there was no way I would be able to survive. The picture looked bleak. But somehow, someway, the money has been there when I needed it. I also learned that telling the truth to my building manager didn't hurt. She let me pay this month's rent a few days late without any penalty. A small, but important victory...
As I go forward, I know that things will continue to get better. But I must always remain humble, teachable, and honest. I've been. Down this path before, I know what complacency and cockiness will get me. Here's to the next one hundred days! (a day at a time of course)