July 27, 1994 was the day I entered Central Texas Treatment Center in Georgetown, Texas. Although I didn't know or care at the time, this place was to save my life. Just the thought of being placed into an environment that was new, sent me over the edge with fear. So many questions. What kind of people will be there? Will they like me? Am I going to be able to do this? Can they see through me? My parents drove me to the facility with my bags packed. This was my fathers birthday. Happy birthday daddy. At the time it seemed a lousy gift to give but looking back it was probably the best gift anyone could have gotten. Putting your daughter in a drug treatment center on your birthday. Sounds sad, but it was an end to the road, a fork in which I was to make the ultimate decision on whether to head left or right. There was time...I had 90 days to try and make a difference in myself, before choosing.
Entering the facility was nerve racking. All the questions. What drug this, and how often that? Went through a battery of questionnaires. Assuming they were testing to see if I was crazy or not. Drug tested, searched and put in a room with 3 other woman. We had bunk beds. Other than the beds there was nothing else in the room. We shared a bathroom and each had our own little closet. This facility was Co-ed. Men were on one side of the unit and women in the other. We were allowed to eat, smoke and spend free time together. Under no circumstances were you allowed to be in a romantic relationship with anyone there. Male or female. If you were and if you were caught trying to form a romantic relationship you could be recycled. Meaning you get to start all over. You could stay in this place for up to a year if the staff felt like you weren't ready to get out. That was a shocker.
Mostly this place was ok. There were some staff members that had a military tone to them. Then again they were dealing with criminals. This is not a country club rehab. You have to have one foot in the penitentiary to even be considered for this place. So most people understood why all the rules.
My roommates were quite an eclectic group. The woman below me was an alcoholic. She never said a lot, was most likely in her mid to late 30's. Meek and mild. About 30 days in she left to go for a day out and I never saw her again. From what I heard she had come back and was drunk. Drank an entire bottle of Listerine. We all knew where she went from there. That baffled me. Listerine? Her bed was quickly replaced with a very young prostitute about to go to prison for drug addiction.
Another one of my roommates whom I had become very close with was a young mother of 4 who happened to be a heroin addict. She on one of her days out got pregnant. Once the facility found out she could no longer stay. She was off to prison. I remember being so angry at that time about that. She was so nonchalant about leaving. Knowing she would never stop using heroin. Rationalizing it even with her pregnancy. It doesn't hurt the baby. She seemed so normal. Could be your next door neighbor. Her bed was replaced with a crack dealing gangster.
The last lady was maybe 40 and she looked 65. Addicted to Meth. Her teeth were gone, skin was wrinkled. She was especially affected by the wrath of drugs. Again, a very nice woman that had basically thrown away her life to drugs. I did not want to be that person in 20 years.
I soon found out that only 1 out of every 10 people that enter treatment for drugs and alcohol actually make it. That astounded me. The odds were stacked heavily against me. There was work to be done and for the most part of the 30 days I had been there I was simply going through the motions. It may have been that statistic that freaked me out enough to get serious in there. I did not want to go to prison. Something inside of me knew that I could learn what I needed to in order to make it. I could be that 1 out of 10. Most of the people in there did not have the family support I did. Some had been in treatment 4 and 5 times.
What I found was that all it really requires of you is to be honest. That is not something I was used to. Lying is such a big part of drug addiction. You have to cover your tracks. Trying to keep people from knowing everything. Really don't even know you are lying at some point. Coming around to the idea of honesty was scary. Would I be judged? The things I've done. Still not getting it, really, I gave it a shot and when in group I started talking about my experiences. Others in the group basically came out and confronted me calling me a liar. It was all too far fetched for them. Some times you can't win for losing.
I did carry on and for the most part made it through this knowing I had to make changes in my life. I knew my old friends could no longer be in my life. How I was going to do this well I didn't really know that. The one huge mistake I made while in there was that I did get in a relationship with one of the guys there. I thought I was in love and it was so stupid. He had already been recycled once due to the same thing. It was lonely in there... what can I say. It filled a void. A void that needed to remain empty in order to completely heal. I didn't know.
In fact I hardly knew anything. Emotional well being was not something I had nurtured. Finding out in there that a person stops growing emotionally at the age in which they start using drugs. That meant I was 14 years old inside. It made perfect sense to me. I was in my twenties and the older I got the younger my friends were. Some of the people I had put myself around were as young as 16. I could relate to them. No longer comfortable around people of my same age. Immediately feeling like a loser. There was some catching up to do. I was on the right track. Taking in everything I could. Excited about recovering. I could see a future.
As soon as you let go of the fear and face the feelings that come with life. Not trying to medicate them, things start getting better fast. Hours and hours of therapy and hard work went into that 3 months. Family sessions. Ropes courses. Community service. Labor. They showed me how to live without hiding from myself. The sun was finally shining on me. Feeling reborn and ready to go out into the world.
Signed a contract between my parents, the treatment center and I that basically said I would be responsible, get a job, go to alcoholics anonymous meetings and be a productive member of society. I was released after 90 days. Moved into a guest house on my parents property, got a job cleaning houses and started going to meetings. Quickly filled all my time between work and meetings. The people in the meeting became my new friends. It takes dedication because I still lived in the town in which my drug using friends were. I was different though. I know longer wanted that life. I wanted more for myself. Emotionally well and maintaining it. Had ended the relationship from the rehab. I was trying hard. I was going to make it. That statistic stuck in my head and I was determined. The next year of my life was strictly me getting well and growing up.
This seems like a cakewalk for me. How could it have gone so smoothly? My weight throughout this year stayed the same. I had lost about 20 of the 60 I had gained. Not really trying. Other than being in a really good state of mind. Working out any difficulties that came my way. Nothing was too much. Was not married. Had no children. There was plenty of time for me to figure myself out. Deciding to follow the rules of sobriety,one of them being not to get into a relationship for a year. The guy from the rehab really didn't count. It was very elementary and short lived. I had chosen the right path.
