The Substance For You Saga Pt. 9
For Part 8 go here- http://substanceforyou.com/substance-for-you-saga-pt-8/
Anything But This
The Safety Of My Parents
I only held my composure at the halfway houses for about three months until I felt like it was safe enough to come home. By then, enough had been washed under the rug to go back home. “Ahhh, home!” I thought, while my parents had another type of Ahh, in mind. “AHH! More rules…” but this time let’s not be mistaken. I wasn’t in a halfway house or barred prison anymore. My parents enforced rules and had me sign a contract, and a part of the contract was that if I slipped up there was no turning back this time… it was all gone.
The worst thing about staying with my parents as a grown man-child was that they kept asking, “Where are you?” It was constant! “Who are you with? You’re not with your old friends are you?” As I see their angst, I was just as easily to find new friends to bring me down, or me bring them down, I couldn’t tell yet with my life’s direction.
My phone would get a text every 15 minutes from my dad… “Are you safe?” or “Give me an exact location?” By the end of it I'd figured out that he had turned on the GPS tracking on my phone in this stage of my life. “Not trust me much?” I asked him. He replied, “No, not yet we don’t. But it’s not that kind of trust. Do you trust yourself yet?”
While I looked at that as not trusting me completely, I understood his point, because I got myself into this situation I was in. It was time to earn my way out and now I only can imagine what he was feeling while his first-born son left the house after recently getting clean from heroin. Coming home after curfew would give my parents near heart attacks, and I can almost prove that I gave my mom chronic insomnia through all of this. “Why are you so tired mom?” I asked her while I’d wake up at noon, and she was going for her second nap, but not actually sleep… just lie there. “I just need to lie down now that you’re awake,” she said, as if this was her best method of making sure I was still alive and breathing.
If I had a child I would've barred him in his room, but my parents did this process with dignity and respect. I wasn’t barred in my room, in fact, the room that I was staying in was thought to be too triggering for me. Amongst all of that my parents understood me on some levels I couldn’t understand yet. By the time I'd moved home my bedroom was moved from the basement to the upstairs. I was right down the hall for them, and I don’t think it was a tactic to be watched upon, more as it was to be protected in my own home from my own pride and ego. I didn’t know all of this at the time, and I was taught the steps with whatever I could comprehend, so I'd started gaining and giving a peace of mind back. I truly did learn the hard way, as nothing seemed to come easy getting clean. But was it meant to be? It was most definitely not meant to be easy. I learned the hard way or not at all, those were my options I felt. So, I made my choice, went to meetings, and tried to get a better grasp on what I was doing wrong.
I got myself a sponsor and started the habit of hitting meetings on a daily basis. My sponsor said, “I need you to call me everyday for the first 90 days and do 90 meetings in 90 days. If you fail to do that I’m not your sponsor anymore.” It honestly felt like more rules and was a harsh way to approach being a mentor to someone, I thought. But what wasn’t harsh about heroin addiction I guess? But, unfortunately at first, like most “newcomers,” I lived up to an expectation I’m sure many had for me and I stopped going to meetings 3 weeks in while I was feeling a sense of cure and hope. I don’t know this feeling that swooped over me, but it felt like I was back to an old me… right where I wasn’t supposed to be, but I couldn’t see that. Luckily my sponsor caught me with this habit early on.
My sponsor called me and didn’t beat around the bush, he said, “We are done here, and I wish you well Brian.” I hung up the phone with some joy actually. “I’M FREE!” I tell my dad. It should have been a relief to him, when I first started going to the meetings he had thought I joined a religious cult. But, after seeing me clean for almost 30 days, he started to drastically change his mind.
My dad then made another rule along with a death stare… “Brian you must have a sponsor… him as a sponsor (as they grew fond of him), to live in this house. Call him back and get in your car I give you to go to meetings. You’re far from cured here son, you’re just coming down from a different type of high now!” What happened next was what my mother claims to this day to have saved my mind. The best thing that ever happened to me was that I listened for once in my life and apologized. Me? Listen? Apologize? Pshhh! But despite it all we had a contract. So I got in my car, made it to a meeting and happily saw my sponsor there. We sat at that table for what seemed to be all night. The meeting holder had to kick us out for over staying the time limit and eventually we went and got food afterwards with a group of friends too! For once in my life I felt like I was free, not before. I was gaining that peace of mind back, and my parents “rules” (I see now) were just a guideline to staying alive.
Thank my higher power for looking out for me and speaking through every person in my life at this point. But like my dad said… I was very, very far from cured, getting that out of my head right now. I was in a whole new shit as the pink cloud wore off and my mental health worsened. Mass pharmaceuticals took a grip on me, and I was in danger of my life again. But the only one who was going to kill me this time, and again, was me, myself, and I. My mind worsened, suicidal tendencies rose, triggers were often, and my pink cloud had vanished. What was I to do with my life next? No rule could save me this time.
More to come in the next installment of the Substance For You Saga Pt. 10 here- http://substanceforyou.com/substance-for-you-saga-pt-10/
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