Dreaming of relapsing. Dreaming of busting. Of drinking. Of opioids. Of benzos. Of Molly. Of the void. That’s all it is right? Or it’s the friends that you can have a drink with. The friends that can’t go without a drink. The dates that you won’t go on without a drink. The thought of telling someone you’re sober. It’s hard to know if people understand it. Fully. There’s oceans of people that are on the other side of it. That are happily and unhappily drinking and using. That’s where I was for a decade. I’m about 2 weeks away from 6 months CLEAN & SERENE. 3 days off 8 fucking months without a drink. 8 MONTHS. There’s no way to make sense of this sometimes. Right at the doorway of 6 months without anything, yet in my dreams at night I’m way back there. Day dreams too. I feel a complete lifetime away from the sadness I’ve felt before in that time of my life, though that’s not to say it’s not lonely at times here too. I’m trying to get to a meeting nearly everyday. Either AA or NA. Find people that understand. Get numbers of people. Fuck. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I really am a slow learner. I just have to do everything my own way. I have to reject it then slowly approach it. I have to decide I don’t need it then see if it wants to dance. I got committed to recovery straight away. Just not everything that comes with it. Actually… I got committed to abstinence straight away. Recovery is this ever growing, ever evolving part of me now.
I’ve had an extremely busy month of May I’m grateful for all the experiences. All the people I could see. I’m grateful for this solitude now. Maybe I’ll tell you about the month but usually I prefer to digest emotionally before regurgitating the factual things.
I tap the button in my brain marked ONE DAY AT A TIME multiple times a day. Reminding myself it’s okay. It’s just for today. I remind myself I’m still a baby in all of this. I’m trying to cope without those things I’ve been using since I was 15. It’s no surprise it’s difficult. But, it is a surprise at how it works. How it sneaks into your mind. How it tries to pry you from yourself. How nostalgia always smoothes the edges and cherry picks the highlights. Like watching the trailer for a film. Seeing all the best parts splashed on a screen. Only to watch the full feature length film and find it a waste your time. Shit. I guess that’s it though. My memories are sweet adds for parties and late night talks. For camping trips and wedding events. For dates or lonely nights. For enhancing and for soothing the carousel of emotions that circulate. I forget the hours of bullshit I have to endure to see those small moments. I forget the pain. I forget that just because I’m a master at my life’s cinematography, it doesn’t make up for the rubbish that’s acted out, the lines that get fucked up, any of it really.
Every time I lean into the past I’m taken from the present. This present moment I’m sober. This day is an opportunity to continue progress. I’m writing this on day 241 without a drink. Day 171 without any drugs. It’s funny that I thought I could still do drugs. I didn’t have a hardcore drug addiction. I had an alcohol problem.
It’s funny that a month or so without a drink, I got offered some coke and in the back of my mind I knew I shouldn’t do it. The front of my mind screamed, FUCK YES. I was feeling pretty low before that night. It wasn’t the last time I used but I remember it made me feel so damn good. Even the following days I felt good. I felt like an old car and racking those lines felt like a jump start. My mind immediately went to work on how to continue this. I thought maybe that’s all I need. A little micro dosing of cocaine to get me going. Maybe I could get an 8 ball and use it wisely.
I remember a deep inhale of victory, thinking how smart and fun it could be. On the exact same breath, I exhaled into reality.
A clear moment of realising I don’t have a problem with A, B or C. I have an addiction problem. I have an escapism problem. I have a reality problem. I have a problem.
Like most problems they have a solution. The solution was to not engage with escapism, unless in the form of creativity. It was clearest it had ever been. That was addiction talking. I have a problem with addiction.
This realisation though, brought me to a point of contention deep within myself. Knowing there was only one way.
This one way, was like one house. You leave the busy streets and the crazy public to step into the house. First thoughts are, there’s millions of buildings with millions of doors. Why settle for one? Why this one? When stepping into this house though, you realise it’s huge. It’s full of rooms with tall archways and small hidden doorways, of hall ways, of cupboards and of people.
Every time I open a door, it opens to a room with new things to see and to learn. Full of more doorways.
I can leave this house at any time or I can make this house my home. This is the house of recovery. This house is the Hotel California thing.
‘You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.’
See, I know I could relapse, I could bust at anytime I like. Recently it’s been a real thought. It’s been almost a desire. It’s been there in my dreams. Right now if I wanted, I could. It’s a scary, scary fucking thought. I can leave my recovery whenever I want. Deep down though, I can never leave myself. And I know that I can never unlearn this truth.
Music has always been a door way.
There’s a really old song I used to love,
‘What’s the use in getting sober’ by Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five
I used to love this song. Used to live by this song. An old 40s song to connect my love of weird, old and alcoholic inspired music.
Now though, I wonder
what’s the use in relapsing man
when you’re gonna get sober again.
I try not to get into the details sometimes. For my own sake mostly. But this thing is fucking hard. My reality is sometimes really scary. My heart is often heavy. My friendships are not the same. My confidence isn’t the same. My life style is not the same. My body is not the same. My thoughts are not the same. Some of these for the better and some, not so much and mostly just completely different. I always want to end on something positive but sometimes it just feels disingenuous. The pain felt in addiction is bone breaking and gut-shanked wrenching. Physical. Deeply spiritual. The pain felt in recovery is shoulder popping and ankle rolling. We just need to set things back into place and let them heal. It’s so damn emotional.
I really do pray for another day sober. Give thanks for my days sober. Kiss my hands and shoulders for staying sober. Hold hope in my heart of older days sober. Try everyday to have trust and faith in staying sober. Hit the button of one day at a time I’ll stay sober. Close my eyes and whisper just for today. I’m sober.
Thank you, whoever you are, if you’ve gotten this far.
Love Toe x
"A little micro dosing of cocaine to get me going. Maybe I could get an 8 ball and use it wisely."
So brilliant.
thank you for sharing so openly about your experiences with addiction and recovery. you are such a shining star.