Tag: Relapse & Jail

Writings from Rehab, part 2

Collection of journal entries from my time at Rosecrance in May-June 2017.

See part 1 here.

 

May 13, 2017

Well, it’s been exactly a year since I was admitted to Gateway [note: Gateway was the first in-patient treatment center I went to in May 2016]. But this time is different because I know more than I did last year… about myself, about addiction, about what I need to do after treatment. About what I need to do during treatment. The women here are different. I tried to sit down w/a different group of people this morning, but it was much of the same… talking about old times of alcohol and drug use. Or about what they wish they would’ve tried when they were still using… like sniffing alcohol out of a meth-like pipe. I just don’t want to participate in that kind of conversation anymore. I want to keep an open mind and not fill it w/new ideas or memories of who I used to be. I want to shelve away the memories of who I used to be like an old book. But, I can’t forget it either because then I’m bound to make the same mistakes.

I must be kind to myself today and be mindful that I’m here, right now, to learn & grow into the person I want to be. I cannot & will NOT beat myself up over past decisions made under the influence because those decisions were made by a different person. My goal is honesty — w/myself, counselors, and doctors, and the other girls. Many of these girls in are in treatment for the first time and I see them making the same mistakes I did. I guess I’ll just have to take it as a reminder that I know more now than I did before and I will not make the same mistakes.

*I am lucky to have my life today and I must learn how to love myself again*

PM:

Today was a relief. It was a good day to be alive, awake, and well. It’s getting late and it’s been a long day since I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’ll just go through the highlights of the day.

  • Art class: painted a card that turned out like shit but it was still nice to paint
  • 12-step meeting: B picked a story from the Big Book about being a grateful recovering alcoholic. It was called A Late Start & I could relate to almost everything in the story. I’ll need to reread this story as a reminder of the effects/outcomes of my disease if I do this right this time.
  • Everyone (not everyone…) had family visits today, but my parents are out of town & I don’t know what the rest of my family knows, so I had downtime. It was tough, made me think about what jail might be like, but I got through it. I just had to try to keep my thoughts at bay and be kind to myself. Hopefully, my parents will come visit me next weekend and bring me some things I need and go to family counseling.
  • Being outside. It was good for my soul. It was gorgeous out, beautiful.
  • Process group. Everyone opened up tonight and it made me feel even more comfortable around everyone. I can’t believe how much better I feel only 24 hours after coming to the women’s unit.
  • DRA: Dual Recovery Anonymous. Great meeting. BIG meeting. I want to write more about it later.
  • PM Community: Had to say goodbye to B. She’s one of the nicest, most sincere people I’ve ever met. She’s also 25, has been to inpatient for alcohol 3 times, and is an inspiration to me and the rest of the women here.
    • Side note… the night counselor, R, is awesome and such a refreshing woman to be around. I’d love to keep in touch w/her after. She talked about the power of women supporting women & I forget that if I don’t make good friends with myself and get to know me… I can’t have other female friends and I’m going to have female friends in recovery.

At the end of the day, out for a smoke break, I just felt a wave of optimism about the future. Yes, I’m going to face a lot of trouble, but I will get through it, and I don’t have to drink over it.

Today, I love myself and I have people who love me and believe in me. I can do this. I WILL do this.

Honesty, mindfulness, kindness to myself and others, humility, remaining teachable — my disease does not define me.

Mindfulness walk May 14, 2017

The sky was beautiful blue with big puffy white clouds gently floating across the sky. The trees were fully in bloom w/all shades of green and the grass smelled sweet.

 

Mindfulness walks can help my recovery because it makes me focus on the here and now. It makes me focus on my sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste. It takes me out of the future & the past and brings me to the present.

Unfortunately today, my mindfulness walk was rudely interrupted by thoughts of how it would be refreshing to have an ice cold alcoholic beverage on a day like today. Then I got upset with myself for allowing such thoughts to taint a gorgeous day to be alive. I almost cried (again) out of frustration with myself because I so badly want to be happy and just LIVING for today. I thought of my parents up north, traveling to a beachy destination, being on my own again, jail, and wondered how I will do this without a drink. Then I thought to myself I just need to do the next right thing by staying here and finding sober living and committing to the program seriously. It was difficult to see J leave detox and not get distracted by my thoughts of my car in the parking lot and how easy it would be to just leave. I want my parents to come take my car so it’s not so easy.

One second, hour, day at a time.

[side note: J was a young man that I was in detox with. He was a wild child. He left detox and came back to Rosecrance 4 times in the month that I was there. On this particular day, I watched him walk out of the doors of detox, and get into a car, and drive off the property. Within 24 hours, he was back at detox. I later learned it was his 21st birthday and he wanted out to party, again.]

May 14, 2017

This AM I am feeling very hopeful and determined. It kind of scares me that I’m feeling so good only 2 days in… I don’t want to lose this feeling. I am getting cravings. But, 2 things: 1. I’m hoping to see the psych soon and get Naltrexone again and 2. I keep reminding myself what it was like to wake up in the hospital next to the cop, having no idea what happened, but knowing something really bad had happened. And then the awful detox with nothing but a few magazines and cinderblock walls w/people who were complete zombies. OMG it was fucking awful. Being completely clueless as to what I had done. I can’t forget that — I can’t forget what it was like this time because I never want to go back to that place, that feeling of complete cluelessness but knowing something terrible happened.

Anyway, it’s Mother’s Day and I feel bad that I’m not with my Mom today… but hopefully, this is the last Mother’s Day that I will be away from my family getting treatment. This time next year, I will have a few days over a year sober. I have to keep doing the next right thing and I will get there.

Today, I have to love myself, be kind to myself, and forgive myself for past transgressions. The person who made those mistakes was a past Judith, and I don’t even want to call her Judith — because she wasn’t the sweet, genuine, honest and caring Judith that everyone knows from the past. She’s in there, I just have to find her. I am lucky to have my life today.

2:15PM: We just got back from a walk and it was supposed to be a mindfulness walk [see above]. I struggled. When we first got out there I saw J, the guy I was in detox with, leave. It reminded me of how easy it would be to leave because my car is here. Even though I’m pretty sure my license is suspended/revoked, part of me doesn’t give a shit. Doesn’t give a shit about my license, my relationship with my parents, my sobriety, etc. But I HAVE to care. I must get better. I am frustrated with my sick, addict mind that tempts me like that. When I get thoughts like that I just wish I could shake the thought to walking, reading, talking, something. So I’m trying to journal my thoughts out of my head. I have to stop beating myself up and be kind to myself. I’ve made mistakes, but they do not define me. Everything happens for a reason. There’s a reason we’re all here, together (even M) to teach each other lessons.

3:15PM: Thought — when I drink, I break out in IVs, hospital gowns, and handcuffs.

PM: Today was up and down and up and down. It started out really good and my thoughts just kept racing. I can’t stop thinking about what life might end up like in jail. Shit food, no meds, no going outside, maybe TV/books, just sitting in a cell w/my thoughts. I made a huge mistake that could’ve taken someone else’s life, let alone my own life, and the guilt I feel is so immense it’s driving me crazy. I don’t even know if I DO get into a sober living environment, if I’ll just end up having to leave to go to jail. I’m driving myself crazy about it.

But, I didn’t kill anyone and I’m not dead. Even if I do go to jail, there’s still life after. It’s not prison, it’s not a life sentence. It may or may not be 3 months or 6 months. I’ll be sober at least. There will be life after jail. And I can’t make the same mistake a THIRD time. It may just be the time I kill myself or someone else.

I think the experiential group, then the 2.5 hours of downtime while everyone had visitors, and sitting around for a while really got to my head today. I felt almost manic this morning, then so all over the place by afternoon. I need to be easier on myself. It’s only day 3 in the women’s unit. And it hasn’t even been a week since I’ve been sober. This takes time. I know that.

I’m not going to spend much more time writing and instead going to focus on getting better. And staying positive. My consequences are my consequences — what happens, happens — but I don’t have to drink over it.

I love myself and forgive myself for past decisions I made under the influence. I do not have to be that person anymore. In a short while, w/a lot of hard work, mindfulness, and positivity, I will have my life back and I will be happy, healthy, and alive.

 

I remember when I made the realization that there will be life after jail, and it was mind-blowing. I was so caught up in fear and worry about the consequences of my actions, that I didn’t stop to think about what life would be like after. On a daily basis, I would remind myself that there was life after, and I had to get through that, sober, too. Once I made the realization that there was life after jail, I felt a little less like doomsday was near, I could see a very teeeeeeeny tiny light at the end of the tunnel. It was the first realization in days that actually made me feel good, instead of realizing the horror and havoc I caused in the previous 6 months.

My emotions at this time were totally overwhelming, I didn’t know what to do with all my thoughts and feelings. I could barely talk to my parents at this time. I would hear their voices and immediately, IMMEDIATELY, start bawling. I would go to talk to counselors and I would get a few words out and then have an anxiety attack, hyperventilate, and cry my eyes out. I was so raw. I wasn’t numb to everything for the first time in 6 months, and it was roaring back to me like a tsunami. I am grateful I was in a safe place to deal with all of this and make some important realizations, while putting life on hold, for a month. I needed the respite, I needed the bomb-like shelter that inpatient treatment is. I needed every emotion, tear, laugh, and person in that place, and I tried to soak it all in as best I could.

It’s inspiring to read sentences like “This time next year, I will have a few days over a year sober. I have to keep doing the next right thing and I will get there.” The mantra ‘just do the next right thing’ is STILL my saving grace. When I feel like I’m losing it and the world is throwing all sorts of shit in my direction, I resort to thinking ‘just do the next right thing’ and usually good things follow. It IS almost ‘this time next year’… I am so close I can taste it and feel it, and I want it so bad I am going to do whatever it takes to get there AND spend the first Mother’s Day with my mom in 2 years.

 

 

Collection of screenshots in recent days:

 

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Thanks for reading!

Sincerely,

Judith

Posted on by Judith Adams 0

Writings from Rehab, part 1

Hello beautiful WordPress Family!!

This weekend was glorious. On Friday night, I did a little bit of shopping after work. I work right by a mall, which is the only place I can find stores like Kohl’s, Old Navy, Journey’s, Carson’s, and various others, all in one spot, around Chicago. I bought a couple new pieces to add to my growing collection of ‘trendy’ Chicago styles.

Then I proceeded to chillax the whole weekend, accompanied with watching the entire season of “Imposters” on Netflix, sleeping in, ordering breakfast from a nearby diner, cleaning, laundry, etc. It was just a really nice, sober, relaxed weekend.

Beginning tomorrow, I am full-time in my new position as E-Commerce Development Manager. Also beginning tomorrow is the spring volleyball season, and I’m coaching 2 teams this season, so it’s going to be a busy couple of weeks figuring out my new full-time schedule, volleyball practices/games, and maintaining a level of self-care that I’ve found necessary in sobriety. I’m excited… bring it on!

I recently found my journal from when I was in Rosecrance from mid-May to mid-June 2017. I’ve decided that I’m going to share some of the writings with you. I’m not going to edit them, just the raw entries as is. If I feel like it, I’ll comment on the circumstances surrounding the entry and how I feel about it now after I’ve shared the entry.

So, here’s the first one.

 

5/11/17

Today I came to detox at Rosecrance. Detox for the umpteenth time. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll move to the treatment side.

The last week has been… hell. HELL. I was out of control drinking since a few weeks ago, really. I was drinking on the ‘long way’ home, sometimes during lunch, sometimes even before work. And, always at night. Always. At least half a bottle. Most of the time more. I always wanted more. I wanted alcohol every minute of every day. Especially, well nevermind especially because it was all the time. I’ve known I needed more treatment for quite some time, I guess I was just always hoping, HOPING, somehow I would make it work at my parents, while I had a good job, benefits, vacation time. While I still had a car and a place to call home. I always had the way I wish things were envisioned, but just can’t seem to get there. I’ve lost so much from booze, especially now that I’ve got a 2nd DUI. I’m going to have to go through all that BS – breathalyzer, counseling, suspended/revoked/occupational license, stigma, car insurance, the list goes on, all over again. All. Over. Again. The first time just wasn’t enough, was it?! And I’ll have to go to jail, too. Probably should prepare myself for 90 days or more because my BAC was above .43. I should be DEAD.

But I’m not. I’m still alive and have a whole life ahead of me. I see people who are 40, 50, 60 or older in treatment & detox.

5/12/17

Today was my first day in inpatient. As much as I’m relieved to be here, I’m realizing this time around is going to be much harder. I’ve refreshed my memory on the immediate relaxing, euphoric effects of alcohol almost every day over the last 6 months. Now I have to crawl the giant hill to sobriety all over again. I feel quite depressed, hopeless, lonely, and empty today. But, as the day went on & I met more people with similar legal problems, I feel a little more hopeful. I feel lucky to have my life. The hardest part was talking to my mom today. Just hearing her voice made me cry. I can’t believe they still support me. After the hell I’ve put them through, they are still supportive of me and they still believe in me when I’m not even sure I believe in myself… but – I’ve got to stay hopeful, HONEST, and believe in myself. I need to be patient with myself and let my wounds heal so I can gain my self-confidence and self-trust back. The only way I can do this is if I believe.

  • Honesty
  • Believe in myself
  • be patient, this doesn’t happen overnight
  • try, try, try to be mindful
  • love myself
  • don’t get involved with people who are not in this till the end
  • focus on today, right now – not yesterday or tomorrow

I must focus on today, not the fact that I’m going to jail or will be losing my license and car. I’ve got to own my mistakes and deal with the consequences and learn from them.

Who I was yesterday does not define me.

I don’t get to stay sober today on yesterday’s work.

I do not need alcohol to survive.

Even though I might not believe this today – I LOVE myself and I have people who love me and believe in me.

 

 

One trend I’ve noticed in this journal from that time at Rosecrance, is at the end of almost every entry I end with positive affirmations. I think about the way I felt at that time, and it was ALL I could do to think of one positive affirmation, and like I mentioned in that entry, ‘even though I might not believe this today…’.

Even though I might not believe this today… wow, such a powerful statement. I was telling myself the things I wanted to really believe, but couldn’t find it in me to believe those things yet because I was so damaged and in a deadly cycle of negative thinking, berating myself, and drinking to cope.

Hmph.

 

Anyway, I’m gonna go get my lunches all prepped for the week and put away the clean laundry I’ve just wash. What an exciting Sunday night, right?!! Hah! But… nevertheless.. these are the things I get excited about these days, and that’s ok.

Have a wonderful evening everyone.

Sincerely,

Judith

Posted on by Judith Adams 2

Relapse, Epilogue

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The picture above is my disgusting face, after my aunt’s dog bit me, a few days before I got my 2nd DUI. It’s so gross I can hardly look at it.

20180207_165936.jpg

This picture is of a dog with boots that I saw on my way home from work the other day. Idk… just something a little more uplifting than that awful picture of me with band-aids on my face.

 

I feel like depression, perfectionism, feeling misunderstood and not good enough, and a deep, deep sense of loneliness and unhappiness fed my addiction. It all started with feelings of something missing, feeling unfulfilled… a void… and feeling like ‘this is it?! This is what my life is going to be like for the rest of my life?? Well… this fucking sucks,’ and then realizing that I could escape all the emotional and mental discomfort with alcohol.  My mind would quiet down when I drank, and it seemed I could fit in better with the world. I further realized that benzos and cocaine offset the side-effects of alcohol. I didn’t use the latter two on a daily basis like I did alcohol, but I definitely believe that if I were to go back to drinking, those 2 things would very quickly follow.

There are a lot of other horrifying stories during my drinking days, but those will come out as time goes on. It’s not to say I didn’t have good memories when I was drinking, it’s just, the way it ended really offsets those good memories. I’m just really happy to get the story of my relapse out into the open, and not just in the confines of my brain anymore.

After I went to Rosecrance, it took about a week to realize I needed to talk about what happened in order to begin the process of forgiving myself, moving on, and starting anew.

Once I finally told the story, that I thought no one would understand because I’m the worst person ever, at least 2 or 3 other women shared that they had done the same, or worse. Just knowing I wasn’t the worst person ever, that I wasn’t alone, allowed me to begin the healing process.

The first step in my healing process was forgiveness. Forgiving myself, mostly. Forgiving myself for the things I had said, done, thought, and acted upon when I was drinking. I came across a quote the other day that read:

Forgiveness is not a one-shot deal. Everytime you remember, you forgive again.

And every time I remember the truly horrible things I did to my family, friends, society, and myself, I have to forgive again and again and again.

There is a misconception that sobriety is boring. And, sometimes that’s true. But when I was drinking, I was SO BORING. I spent most days, holed up in my apartment, drinking until I passed out, only to wake up and keep doing it. I didn’t leave my apartment for days or weeks at a time. In sobriety, I have the energy, confidence, and motivation to go out and do things… go to the grocery store, go to work, go to the library, go shopping, go to a parade, go to comedy shows, even just going for a walk. My daily life is so much bigger, so much more meaningful, and way more FUN than drinking ended up being.

I’m happy and grateful to report that today, March 9, 2018, I have 10 months clean and sober. Sobriety has given me all the things that I thought alcohol could — peace of mind, meaningful relationships, sleep, love, forgiveness… the list goes on.

I have so much more work to do on myself and so many more things to learn about myself. Today, I have the wherewithal to do that.

It’s hard to fight every single day for my life. If it was as hard as it was in the beginning, I would’ve given up by now. It does get easier, and the obsession over drugs and alcohol slowly escapes. But, all the sudden, I’ll sit back and realize, ‘wow I didn’t think about drinking today’… and that’s one of the best feelings in the world.

Thank you for reading and please reach out if you want to chat!

Sincerely,

Judith

 

 

Posted on by Judith Adams 4

Relapse, Part 3

I’ve gotta finish this story, so I’m going to finish it tonight.

To see parts one and two of the story, click on the links.

I wake up in the hospital, completely out of sorts. How did I get here? What day is it? Am I still alive?

Immediately, I’m overcome with insane flashbacks… I recall myself chugging and chugging alcohol, screaming about how much I hate myself, crying so hard the road was blurry, and then my mind goes blank. Completely, utterly, horrifyingly blank.

My eyes are like sandpaper, dry, puffy, and everything is blurry and I’m seeing double. I look down at my body, and I feel like I’m seeing myself from above. I look at my left arm and there’s an IV in it. I look over to my right and I see my wrist is handcuffed to the bed. I slowly make my way up to see an officer sitting next to my bed. I groan, release an utterly ugly and painful groan, and ask ‘what happened? Where am I?’

The officer looks over at me, disgusted and pitiful. He looks away and says ‘I found you passed out in the backseat of your car in a ditch, you had a .437 BAC when I brought you in.’

I ask, ‘what day is it? What time is it?’ He says ‘it’s about 1:30 PM on Monday, May 8.’

Wooooooaaahhh woah woah… it’s still Monday and it’s only 1:30 PM? What the fuck time was it when I blacked out? What time did he find me?

I slowly come to a grizzly realization… I’ve been arrested for drunk driving, again.

The first DUI was bad, don’t get me wrong. But I remember every detail. I remember talking to the officer when he pulled me over, I remember resisting breathalyzing and blood work, I remember calling my parents to come pick me up, and I remember all the bull shit that followed it including court, fines, assessments, breathalyzer, etc. etc.

This time was so, so much worse. I have absolutely zero recollection of the officer waking me up in my car. I have no memory of the sobriety road test, I have no memory of the ride to the hospital or being hooked up to an IV or being handcuffed to the bed. I’m racking my brain trying to connect the dots, but all I can remember is screaming and crying in my car.

The officer goes out to the hall to call the nurse and tell her I’m awake. The doctor and the nurse both come in the room, without looking at me or saying a word to me. I feel humiliated, I feel so small, I feel so alone.

They take out the IV and the officer tells me it’s time to get back in the car.

Apparently, he was taking me to a detox in Madison. I didn’t know this — I was under the assumption I was going to jail.

The ride over to Madison was so confusing. My entire body hurt, as if I ran a marathon. My head is pounding and spinning. My guts feel like they are going to spill out any second. My eyes feel like they are bulging out of my head. My hands and fingers hurt, I’m already trembling. I keep feeling like my body is not my own — I can see it, I can see my legs, my feet, my hands, my abdomen — but it doesn’t look like it belongs to me. Not only is my body in shock from all the alcohol, but I’m in shock from what just happened and what is going to happen.

I get to the detox in Madison, and they breathalyze me to see where my BAC is. I still had a .33-something BAC when I got there. In other words, I was still completely and helplessly wasted.

As I come down from the alcohol, I have tons of emotions, thoughts, and physical discomforts flooding me; I become EXTREMELY nauseous, shaky, and antsy. I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I feel like I have bugs crawling all over me, mostly in my hair and on my face. I feel like the bugs are getting in my eyes and I keep rubbing and scratching and the nurse is threatening to put me in restraints. I remember that my parents thought I went to work in the morning, and they have absolutely no idea where I’m at. It’s clear I’m not coming home tonight, so I start to think ‘how am I going to tell them how bad I fucked up this time?’. I remember that I got arrested, again, and I start yelling about how I want out.

I was in a cinderblock, damp, dark room. The bed I was in had bells on it, so every time I even blinked, the bells jingled. I can see nasty water stains all over the walls and the floors. It looks like there’s something growing on the ceiling. All of this makes me more sick to my stomach and I keep trying to make myself throw up because I think it’ll make me feel better.

A nurse comes in and starts asking me questions about what happened. I don’t know, I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW! They tell me that the officer found me in a ditch passed out in the back seat of my car. I know I’ve been told this before, but I still can’t believe it, and because I can’t remember even the slightest of a detail, I have a hard time believing it’s true.

Then they ask me if I have any family I’d like to notify, since I will be at the detox for at least 24 hours. Painfully, oh SO painfully, I squeak, ‘can you please call my mom? She’ll be worried when I don’t come home tonight.’

I’m thinking so many thoughts… they’re just racing and racing through my mind. I can’t even finish a thought before another one comes up… “fuck this. I can’t get out of this one. I really did myself in this time. Who does this?!? I’m such a monster!!! Who drives around on Monday morning, drinking themselves so drunk that they pass out in the back seat of the car?!! What have I done?! What am I going to do? Why? HOW? Where? When? What?!? I’m going to be homeless now. I might as well just end it. I’m giving up. I’m going to deny any treatment offered because it doesn’t work anyway. I’m a lost cause.’

I was thinking about how.. when I managed to get out of this god-awful, disgusting, bug-infested detox, I was going to try to find some opiates and just… fuck it. It doesn’t matter anymore. I ruined everything. I RUIN everything I touch… I’m done, my life is over. I’m a worthless, no-good, mean, manipulative, destructive, awful human being that shouldn’t be allowed to walk this Earth. I don’t know how to live life without drugs and alcohol, so I’m just not even going to try anymore. It’s over.

I managed to get my dad on the phone and he made it clear — I’m no longer welcome at home. I have 20 minutes to get home and grab some things and figure out where I will be living for the foreseeable future, because it will NOT be with my parents. And… don’t I DARE ask another family member to house me. How DARE I put someone else through the hell that is trying to love me?!

I ask the nurses to print out some information about homeless shelters near Rockford. I think about sleeping in my car. I think about finding an abandoned house and calling it home for a while. I think about getting a dirty hotel room and possibly trying to sell myself to make some money, but then I remember, no one wants me anyway. I’m disgusting, fat, stinky, bloated, gross… I start to think.. I can’t wait to get my hands on some hard drugs so I can stop this madness that’s going on inside my head.

After 36 horrible, horrible hours at the detox in Madison, I’m at the mercy of the Jefferson County Sheriff to come pick me up in Madison and bring me back to Jefferson, where I was apparently passed out in a ditch, to get booked into jail. I was actually hoping they would keep me in jail even for a few days.

The sheriff FINALLY comes to pick me up at the detox at about 1 AM on May 10. By the time we get back to the Jefferson County Jail and I get booked, it’s about 3 AM. Then, they say, ‘OK here’s information on where you’re car is located, and you’re free to leave.’

Free to leave?! Where am I supposed to go?! How am I supposed to get anywhere? It’s 3 AM on a cold, early Spring night, in a town I’ve never even heard of, and I’m just supposed to…. walk the streets until the tow company opens in the morning, so I can get my car?

I leave the jail, and I start walking. I didn’t have a coat, my coat is presumably in my car which is in an impound lot 30 miles away. My phone was barely charged, it’s too late/too early to buy any alcohol. So, as I’m walking, I’m looking for abandoned houses to try and sleep in for a few hours.

After walking for about 30 minutes, I see a hotel. One of those dingy, bed-bug filled, prostitute hotels. I think ‘what a perfect place for me tonight, this is where I belong.’

I buzz the door, and I hear a stir. I buzz again, and again, and again, and finally, someone comes to the door.

It’s a middle-eastern guy with a thick accent, clearly upset that I’m waking him just before 4 AM for a room.

The room cost me $40 and I cringed over spending every penny, because I needed it to buy drugs later.

I get to my room and I don’t even want to touch the bed. The faucet and shower are leaking, the drywall is peeling, it smells like mothballs.

I watch TV until around 7 AM and I start calling lawyers with my half-dead phone.

The lawyers don’t have anything good to say — they all tell me I’m in real trouble — and that no matter what I do I will be going to jail at some point in the future and I will be looking at spending over $10,000 by the time all is said and done.

I’m hyperventilating, having an anxiety attack, and I feel so, so alone. I feel like the world is over as I know it.

I make a call to a cab company to bring me to the impound lot to retrieve my car, and by the time I get my car out, it’s another $300.

On my way home to my parents, for my allotted 20 mins to pack up some things that I might need, I think about drinking.

OH MY GOD did I want a drink SO bad. It was only Wednesday, and I hadn’t had a drink since Monday. My body didn’t know what to do without alcohol for that long. I was still shaky, in pain, my liver was pulsing. My anxiety was sky-high, I still felt nauseated. I need something, anything, to quiet my brutal thoughts and calm my nerves.

I pack up some things at home and head for the Rockford Rescue Mission.

Somehow I didn’t pick up alcohol along the way, and I found a bed for the night, safe in the walls of the homeless shelter.

 

I start to think about what I’m going to do. Should I stay at the homeless shelter for a while? I’ve worked at Jimmy John’s for 5 years, is there a Jimmy John’s around that I can get a job at? Oh GOD my employer!!! I’ve been a no-call no-show for several days by now!! Surely, my job is gone. There’s no way I can get up to Wisconsin from Rockford, even if my job was still there for me.

I call my employer and tell them how I ended up in the hospital and I’m very sick and I’m going to need to go away for a while to get myself better. At this point, I wasn’t thinking treatment, I was thinking drugs and alcohol. They offered for me to take disability to keep getting a paycheck until it was figured out when I could return to work.

The only thing I truly know will at least help my legal circumstances, if not my family and mental circumstances, is treatment. But, do I really have the energy to try that again?

 

I make the call to Rosecrance the next day, and they tell me that there’s a waitlist, but I can come in the next day for assessment. They say the most important thing is to try to stay in a safe place and not drink or use until I have my assessment. The lady tells me that although there’s a wait list, she might be able to get me to the front of the list if my situation is bad enough.

I go in for the assessment and I can’t get a word out before I start bawling. I’m crying so hard, hyperventilating, shaking, that I throw up. She says ‘Judith, you have to give me something to write down, otherwise you’ll never get the help you need.’ I take a break to try and calm myself, but I can’t seem to calm down enough.

They bring me into another room with a couple of counselors and start asking simple questions… ‘how old are you? have you been in treatment before? what’s your drug of choice? do you have a safe place to stay right now?’

I finally calm down enough, where I’m still crying but able to answer their questions.

The lady tells me that because of my situation, being homeless, being suicidal, wanting to go out and use hard drugs, etc., that they can put me in the detox area of the treatment center that same day. She says she doesn’t know how long I’ll be there until a bed opens in the women’s unit, but it’ll be a safe place to stay… warm, good food, nice bed… she says all I have to do is work on sleeping, hydrating, and bathing, and they’ll take care of the rest.

I give it a good, hard thought.. I think, am I ready to commit to this again? I just want one more drink, just one more. One more pill. I don’t want to do this yet, just give me an hour.

They say it’s either now or never.

I accept the offer and I’m sleeping just a few hours later, in detox at Rosecrance.

 

So, that’s the story of my relapse, 2nd DUI, and ultimately rock bottom.

I truly think it was divine intervention that day, when the officer found me passed out in the back seat of my car and brought me to the hospital, and it essentially saved my life.

I’m grateful that I have another chance to be a better version of me.

 

Thank you for reading.

Sincerely,

Judith

Posted on by Judith Adams 2

Relapse, Part 2

OK, it’s been a while since I told the story of relapsing in Octoberish of 2016, but I think I’m going to try to finish that story tonight. Read part 1 here.

I’ll pick up right around where I left off when my parents decided to let me back in the house to try and get my shit figured out.

I moved back in with my parents around mid-march 2017, so around this time last year. When I moved in, my parents were going to be leaving for Mexico for 2 weeks in just a few short days. They arranged for Adam to come over from Libertyville (about a 1.5 hr drive) to check up on me every other day or so. We had agreed I could drink, but only 1 bottle of wine a night, and ONLY if I followed the rules mentioned in the Relapse part 1 post.

We arranged for me to move out my things from the apartment in Libertyville over time, instead of just going over there 1 day and packing everything up and moving, since they were so close to leaving for Mexico and I couldn’t necessarily do it all on my own.

In my mind, I felt like I was already on thin ice when I moved into my parents’ house. I had just lost a good job, again, because of drinking. I had very little money to my name, and I couldn’t afford to pay rent to my parents yet. They knew that I was in a downward spiral, but we all didn’t recognize just how low I already was, and none of us could comprehend that it would go even lower. We all thought I was on the cusp of either getting it together and figuring it out, or dying.

Since it would be a couple months before my lease with Mandy was up, I had to pay rent and utilities on an apartment I was no longer living in. I had plenty of financial obligations… paying rent and utilities on the apartment with Mandy, paying off my first DUI, paying student loans, credit cards, etc., and now having to come up with money to pay my parents for rent… I was overwhelmed from the very start.

When I moved in, I didn’t have a job, and I had no connections or friends in the area. Literally, not one person I could call a friend around where I parents lived. They live in a neighborhood out off a country road in Northern IL, so there’s no quick walking to the gas station or grocery store. It’s very quiet all the time, and lonely if you want it to be. I didn’t really have a choice of being lonely for the first couple weeks… I had no job to report to, no friends to call, and my parents were going to be gone for 2 weeks.

When my parents left for Mexico, I was off to the races. The rule at my parents’ house was no ‘big’ bottles of wine or boxes. I’m pretty sure one of the first things I did when I was home alone was buy a couple big bottles of my favorite poison. I was drinking by 9 AM (or even earlier, I don’t remember), passing out by 2 PM, and getting up and doing it all over again, day after day. Adam would come check on me, showing up around 7 PM after he got off work, and he saw all the rules I was breaking while my parents were gone.

I DESPISED Adam at this time. I could not stand to hear his voice, see him, be around him, anything. It was the deep hate that you can feel in your bones… just pure hatred. He was the only thing getting in the way of me and my prerogative while my parents were out of town. He would come over and see that I was already plastered, take the rest of my wine and dump it down the drain. He would find the bottles I had for the morning and dump those out too. PERFECTLY GOOD UNOPENED WINE he would pour down the drain!!! I was SO FUCKING MAD… I mean red-hot RAGE mad, because I was running low on money and I knew I would feel like complete shit the next day if I didn’t have any wine to get me going.

One day he came over, and the weather was decent, so I had some windows open around the house. I saw his car pulling in the driveway and I went around to quick lock the doors so he couldn’t get in. I was SO DONE with his bullshit pouring my wine down the drain and looking at me with those stupid, sad puppy eyes… just go the fuck away. As if locking all the doors wasn’t enough, I then went in my room and locked that door, too.

Apparently, I had forgotten to lock the back sliding door, and all the sudden, I hear footsteps in the house. I scream ‘GET THE FUCK OUT, I DON’T WANT YOU HERE, I DON’T NEED YOU HERE, JUST LEAVE!!’. I can’t remember a time when I was that rageful, that angry, at a person.

He found out how to unlock my bedroom door (which is not that hard and I knew this, but it helped me feel safe behind a locked door), and came in my room. I pushed him out, and I kept pushing him back to the door that he found his way into the house through. I was screaming, crying, begging him to get out and leave me alone. I never wanted to see him again. We were fighting, and I was pushing and shoving and probably punching him with all my might to just get. the. fuck. out. of. my. house.

I wanted him to leave, get out of the way of me and my drinking, and just SHUT UP already about how my parents wouldn’t want this. He threatened to call my parents in Mexico and tell them they needed to come home, and I begged and begged him to just leave my parents alone and let them enjoy their vacation.

I finally calmed down, but not because I wasn’t angry anymore. I calmed down as a way to manipulate him into thinking I was OK to be left alone and that he could go now, no problems. I sat in the living room and said ‘yes I know I’m not following the rules and I’m drinking too much. Yes I know when my parents get home I’m not going to be able to act this way. Yes I know this, Yes I know that…’.

He left, fucking finally, after a long while of talking about my problems. I was beyond pissed off… I wanted to scream, punch, kick, destroy. Most of all I needed alcohol, and I needed it FAST, because now it had been several hours since he poured the last of my wine out.

I went to get in my car to drive to the nearest store for more alcohol. When I opened the door, the light didn’t turn on. When I put the keys in the ignition, nothing happened. My car was dead.

I called Adam, and I was like “WHAT DID YOU DO” in a voice that I didn’t think could come out of me.

He had unplugged my battery and TOOK THE BATTERY WITH HIM so I couldn’t start my car, even if I wanted to. He also took my debit card and ID, so if I did get a ride or walk along the country road to the store, I couldn’t buy alcohol. He also took my Ativan and other anti-anxiety meds with him, so I had NO relief from what was coming to me.

OH. MY. GOD. I was absolutely furious. I was so fucking mad, I am getting mad just typing about it, a year later and 10 months sober.

The only thing I could do was go to bed and suffer through the withdrawal.

I called him the next day, hate and anger just spewing out of my mouth. I said ‘you want me to DIE?! I could DIE without having alcohol right now, especially since you took all my medications with you!!!!! What’s wrong with you!? Why the fuck would you do that? Why would you take my medications with you when you KNOW I could literally die without them! I’m not supposed to just STOP taking them!!!! FUCK. YOU.’

I was being dramatic, but the truth was, I could actually die from withdrawal at the point I was at. I had the worst, absolute worst, time of trying to get myself together the next day. I was uncontrollably shaking, nauseated, and most of all.. bored out of my mind. I was incredibly anxious and I was beating myself up so bad, I was completely desperate for something, anything, to relieve the physical and emotional pain I was experiencing.

He came back that night and hooked my car back up and gave back my wallet and IDs. Shortly after he left, I went to the store and bought alcohol. When I got home and finally had a glass, I felt the wooooosh of relief over me, and I wasn’t angry or mad anymore, it was worse… I had a grudge building and building and that was the last time I talked to Adam.

My parents came back from Mexico and were sad to see I didn’t have a job yet. I really was trying to get a job, but it was taking longer than any of us expected. I finally got a promising interview about 50 mins north of where my parents lived, for a buyer-planner job at HNA (that’s what I’m calling it for the sake of this blog).

Making the drive up to HNA where I had my interview was boring and long. And I thought to myself, do I really want to make this drive every day at 6 AM? The hours of the job were 7-330 PM, so it was early in, early out. I would leave around 6 in the morning and get home around 430 if I got this job.

The interview went ok, the guy that interviewed me was so monotone and boring, I couldn’t stand the thought of being his subordinate. He just seemed so… blah. Everyone at that company seemed blah.

I got hired, and I took the job, because I really needed a job and benefits at that time.

The actual duties of the job itself were not bad or hard, I had done them all before and it was going to be an easy learning curve. The hours weren’t that bad, I just had to make sure to stop drinking and get to bed early enough in order to not be terrible the next day. But the people at this job…. oh man, they were something else.

The 2 ladies I worked directly with were straight up bitches. They were older, in their late 50s and early 60s, either about to retire in a few years, or really need to retire in a few years. They were so judgmental, I remember hearing them talk about other coworkers like ‘oh well that Cheryl, you know her son is one of those… what do you call them… addicts?! That’s why she leaves work all the time, to take care of that mess…’ or ‘Bob just cannot do his job, I give him one task and explain it thoroughly and he just can’t get it right, I actually wonder if he’s retarded. No, I mean seriously! Not trying to be mean, I just seriously wonder sometimes!’ the list goes on… but they couldn’t find anything nice to say about anyone and complained ALL DAY long about literally anything and everything. It was exhausting to be around them.

Things weren’t going well with my parents. I had broken the rule of getting blacked out a couple times already. The shame I felt for getting that drunk and belligerent in front of my family was unparalleled… they would tell me horror stories the next day of what I said or did, and I just couldn’t picture myself doing and saying those things. My mom said ‘I wish I would’ve taken a video of you yesterday so you could see what you looked and sounded like. It’s almost like you’re a different person when you’re like that… you don’t look or sound anything like yourself.’ I was thinking… oh God please no, don’t do that, I don’t want to know what I’m like when I’m that drunk. Truth is, I was like that more often than not, so maybe I should’ve seen it. Another curious truth about this, I had friends and other family members that used to say this to me — like ‘I wish I would’ve taken a picture of you last night because you just don’t even look like yourself when you’re that drunk’ or ‘I want to prove to you truly how different you look and act when you’re that drunk,’. It must’ve been quite the sight if multiple people told me that I wouldn’t believe the person I became when I was blackout wasted.

At first, I tried really hard to stick to the 1 bottle per night rule. But, after a while, that wasn’t enough and I started to sneak a few drinks here and there, mostly on my way home from work. In the car. Remember how I got that DUI and had the breathalyzer in my car? Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about that, AT ALL, because I was drinking AND driving again. And I so embarrassed and mortified to admit it… but it’s true, and I’m sorry.

The job was getting more and more irritating by the day… the ladies I worked with were so difficult to be around and so difficult to please. Anything I did, they had to critique it, nothing was ever good enough. They bitched and bitched and bitched. I was starting to feel like I was boiling over.

I was breaking more rules at home — calling in sick to work, not paying rent, drinking more than a bottle of wine at night, hiding alcohol in my room, drinking when my parents weren’t home from work yet, the list goes on. I broke all the rules in a matter of a couple weeks. Things were going downhill, fast.

One day, I told my parents I was going for a drive to the grocery store. I went to the store to pick up a case of wine, which was going to be my ‘rations’ for the week. I had also picked up a 6-pack and intended on driving around the country roads for a while before going home. It was a gorgeous early summer night, and my car was the only place I could be by myself, which at this point, meant the only place I could drink without anyone judging me.

My mom texted me after about an hour of being gone, and said ‘you better get home right now or you’re not going to be allowed in the house and you’re gone.’ I exhaled a massive groan, like ‘UHHHHHHHH why can’t they just leave me alone?!?’ and started on my way home. When I got home, my dad was standing in the garage and was like ‘Judith, you’re going to get another DUI if you drive around like that, and I know you were drinkin’. If you get another DUI you are totally on your own, we will not help you.’ I literally, and not for the first time, thought to myself ‘GOOD, maybe I will get another DUI and go to jail, and maybe that will make me FINALLY stop drinking!’.

Shortly after that, the weekend from hell arrived.

On one particular Friday in May, I decided to go out during my lunch hour and drink. I went and bought several cans of some type of malt beverage, and drove around chugging them down. I only had 30 mins for lunch so I had to be quick. The alcohol soothed my nerves and calmed my inner voice that was constantly beating me down.

After work, I went to the gas station and bought several cans of beer for the drive home.

By the time I got home, I was feeling pretty good.

It was Friday night, so it was time to have some drinks after the long work week. My parents and I sat out back on our deck with some beverages.

At the time, all of us were in denial about my alcoholism. I think that deep down we all knew it was a problem that needed to be dealt with, but we all wanted me to be normal so badly that we didn’t directly acknowledge the unhealthy and destructive drinking habits I was exhibiting. So, drinking together at the end of the week like this, I don’t know… it wasn’t healthy by any means, but we were all at such a loss about why I was doing the things I was doing, that it was easier just to leave it alone.

Saturday morning came and I had to get up to work my part-time job at Jimmy John’s. On my way to work, I stopped by another gas station to buy more booze to get me through my shift at JJs.

During my shift at JJs, someone said to me after I made a careless mistake, ‘What do you have in that Diet Coke you’re drinkin, Judith?! Whiskey!!?’ and all I could think was ‘fuck it.’

After JJs I went to buy more alcohol and finished that off on my way home.

That night, my mom and I went to my aunt’s house. It was my mom’s high school reunion so she left to attend that for a while and I stayed back with my aunt and uncle. My aunt made some margaritas, and since I was already half-way to black out wasted, the margarita put me over the edge.

That night, I tried to pick up her dog that we all KNOW hates being picked up. He snapped back and bit my cheek and I started bleeding.

By the time my mom got back to my aunts, I think I was passed out, drooling all over myself with band-aids on my cheek from trying to pick up the dog.

It was such a mess, such an embarrassing mess.

The next morning, I got up before anyone else and started sneaking sips of alcohol. I found some alcoholic seltzer water things in the fridge, and I drank a couple of those. I drank a few glasses of wine. I was guzzling alcohol like there was no tomorrow.

I don’t remember the details, but I guess I called my dad and begged him to come pick us up and bring us home. Something about that phone call… I can’t quite remember now, but I know I said something that put me into trouble because when he came to pick us up, he looked at me with a face I’ve never seen before and I never want to see again.

I promised to mow my parents’ lawn that day as a favor to them for staying at the house. When we got home, I guzzled some more alcohol and passed out in the middle of the day. This is me on that Sunday, passed out around 3 or 4 PM, when I had to go to work the next day:

20170507_110244.jpg

The next morning, I got up and started getting ready for work. Uggghhhhhh I felt terrible. I was just coming from a weekend where I started drinking at about noon on Friday, and didn’t stop till my body couldn’t take any more on Sunday. I hadn’t eaten much that weekend, I hadn’t drank hardly anything other than various types of booze, and my eyes were totally bloodshot and glassed over. My eyes were so puffy I could poke them like a marshmallow. My lips were so dry, cracked, and stained from all the wine. My ears were ringing and my balance was off. I could feel my pulse in my liver.

I don’t know what came over me that morning, but I wanted to be done with everything. Done with trying to be good enough, done with being an alcoholic, done with depression and anxiety, done with all the hurt I was causing everyone around me, just DONE with it all. I wanted to check out.

I left for work that morning, earlier than usual, knowing I wasn’t going to work that day. I don’t know what came over me, but I decided this was the day. This was the day I was going to check out, for good.

I drove up near where I worked in Wisconsin and bought a case of beer at 6:15 AM. I started driving around country roads, guzzling, guzzling, guzzling beer and screaming at the top of my lungs in the car — “I HATE MYSELF!!!! I HATE THIS!!! I HATE THIS SO MUCH!!!! WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF!!!! WHY WON’T I JUST DIE!!!!!!”

Imagine… imagine an early summer Monday morning, at 6:15. You feel terrible, emotionally and physically. You feel broken, you don’t remember the last time you felt happiness. You don’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled or laughed. The only feelings you can remember are shame, guilt, and embarrassment. You know that your family loves you but all you keep doing is hurting them, so all you want to do is separate yourself from them so you stop hurting them. You are breaking all the rules, and nothing is making you feel any better. You keep telling yourself ‘you’re a failure, you aren’t doing anything right, you are a criminal, you are a monster, you aren’t worth anything, you might as well just live on the street now and get it over with, you might as well just drink so much you never wake up, at least then you would stop causing everyone so much pain,’.

I felt all of these feelings plus so much more… I was thoroughly disgusted with myself, I hated what I was doing to myself and my family, I couldn’t stand being in my own skin. I was ruining everything I touched. Life was falling apart in front of my eyes.

So I’m driving around in the early hours of Monday, May 8, screaming about how much I hate life and I hate myself, getting progressively drunker. The thing is, I was coming off a weekend where all I did was drink. There was still alcohol in my system that morning, and my body was so malnourished from all the drinking, I got very drunk that morning, very fast.

After screaming and crying about how much I hate myself and how much I hate what I’m doing to myself and others, the next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital.

OK, so this is actually going to be 3 parts!!! I will finish the story sometime soon, I promise.

I just want you all to know, that it’s a great day to be happy and free of the chains of addiction, or free from the chains of whatever is holding you back from living happily and freely and loving without abandon.

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day everyone 🙂

Sincerely,

Judith

Posted on by Judith Adams 1

Relapse, Part 1

Hey guys! I’m baaaackkk!

I gave my lead at the treatment center and it was very well received by the clients/patients there. Many people chimed in and said that my story was powerful, moving, and inspiring. Later, the counselor of the group, said that the clients who spoke up usually don’t have too much to say, so I felt grateful I could provide some of the people in the room with some type of inspiration.

Most importantly, I wanted the clients to know and feel that they are not alone. So many times, I felt like I was alone in this. I was the only one who would hide empty bottles in an apartment that I had to myself, I was the only one who would do the awful things I did (like drinking while driving, as mentioned in this post), I was the only one who would take themselves to the ER twice in one day to feel better, I was the ONLY one, blah blah blah. Now, that I’ve had some time to get to know people in the rooms, I KNOW I’m not the only one, and I’m not alone in the way I feel. It’s comforting to know that other people did the things I did, it made it feel less god-awful. It gave me hope that these people could share with me the things that they had done, overcoming shame and guilt and embarassment, and then they went on to move past it and create a new life.

One of the ladies said ‘God.. I thought I was the only one that did that…’, referring to switching up liquor stores as to not frequent one too many times and risk the cashier knowing about my alcoholism. No, honey, you’re DEF not the only one! In fact, there’s many of us, right here in this here city of Chicago, who did the exact same thing.

An older gentlemen in the room, who looked to be straight from the 70s, said something like ‘when you first started telling your story, I thought ‘so what?! you blacked out in college, big deal,’ but then as you kept sharing and got into the honest details, I couldn’t help but realize how similar we actually are.’

One thing I LOVE about going through addiction and coming out the other end (recovery), is that we truly see how similar we are, instead of focusing on the differences. Young, old, black, white, Asian, American, Mexican, poor, wealthy, professional, blue-collar… IT DOESN’T MATTER.. we can all relate to the pain, suffering, fear, thinking there’s no way out other than just pulling the plug… ending up in horrible places with horrible people and questioning why and how it ever came to this… We ALL have that in common. This is why I’ve learned and come to be a ‘grateful recovering alcoholic’, which I plan on writing about in a whole separate post of it’s own.

So, I think the goal was achieved — I think at least one person got one good thing from my lead, and that’s all I care about.

I think it’s time to elaborate and reflect on the dark days of late 2016 and early 2017. I think this will have 2 parts.

WARNING: this is going to get nitty-gritty and brutally honest.

So, in August of 2016, my stay at the halfway house/homeless shelter in Libertyville, IL was coming to an end.

I moved to this halfway house, we’ll call it the 12-step House (it wasn’t actually called that, and if you want to really do your research, I’m pretty sure there’s only one place like this in Libertyville…) right after treatment at Gateway in Lake Villa, IL in very early June 2016. It was a true halfway house, with strict rules, curfew, and scheduling. We had to be up by 8 AM, showered and ready for the day by the 9 AM check-in group, most days included an 11 AM and 2 PM group of sorts, and mandatory 4 PM and 6 PM process group. We couldn’t leave the house for more than 4 hours unless it was for work. We couldn’t even leave the house WHATSOEVER (unless it was for a meeting) until we were there for a full 2 weeks. Residents could only work after being at the house for 90 days (even if you were sober for 6 months prior to moving into the halfway house). We were required to go to a meeting every day, outside of the house, obtain a sponsor, and meet with the case manager at the house at least 2x per week. Curfew was strictly 10 PM and lights out at 11 PM. Very regimented, scheduled, strict living environment.

Some people really need the regimented routine after treatment; I struggled and fought it, tooth and nail.

I remember less than 2 weeks in to my stay, I called my mom, crying and very upset about the fact I was held hostage in the house. I couldn’t go for a walk, I couldn’t go get a coffee, I couldn’t do anything! I felt so helpless and powerless. She was like, ‘well, where exactly do you plan on going? Cuz you can’t come back and live with us.’ I was trying to think of someone, ANYONE, I could live with to get out of that house… an ex-boyfriend in Milwaukee, someone I had met at Gateway with their own house, it didn’t matter, I just needed OUT, NOW!

I hadn’t learned the art of sitting still yet. I hadn’t learned to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. I was fighting, clawing, running from exactly what the halfway house intended for me to see — that I (me, myself and I) was the problem. I hadn’t experienced the power of meetings, yet. I fought back with everything I had… you’re suggesting I find a higher-power? Fuck that. You’re telling me I need to get a sponsor? I don’t need nobody tellin me what to do! You’re telling me I have to sit here for 90 days and go to all these mandatory meetings before I can put myself to some use and get a job?! WHAT!

Finally, the 2 weeks was up and I could walk to the library and get a coffee. Slowly, but surely, the 90 days started to tick by.

Fortunately, I was there during summertime, so almost all of my 90 days were spent sunbathing and smoking cigarettes. If I get skin cancer, I know exactly which summer caused it.

Sure, I went to the mandatory house meetings and the outside AA/NA meetings. Sure, I met with my case manager 2x per week. Sure, I was in by the curfew and up by the 8 AM wake up time.

I was convinced I was dealing with my anxiety and depression. I was convinced I was doing the best I could do to stay sober and set myself up for long-term sobriety.

But, that entire summer, in the back of my mind, all I could think about was my next drink. The obsession never left me. And frankly, even though I thought I was doing the best I could do, I didn’t do anything to relieve myself of the obsession to drink. I didn’t do squat for my depression or anxiety. I thought I was being introspective and examining my thoughts and behaviors, but I soooo wasn’t. I was bullshitting my way through everything that summer.

And yeah, my relationship with my parents got better. My legal problems were starting to resolve. And, on the 90th day, I was going back to work at a big-girl job, as a Project Manager for a small company, making more money than (I think) either of my parents were at the time.

But, still, my thinking was the same. The way I saw life was the same. I knew, from the moment I moved into the halfway house, that the day I moved out I was going to drink. And I wasn’t gonna let that thought go. I couldn’t face myself just yet.

The time came for me to move out of the house and either into the 12-step House’s ‘Phase 2’ program, or get an apartment of my own. Screw phase 2, I was SO over that, and I got this!!! I’m so ready for this! NOT!!!

Me and Mandy became really close over that summer. We moved in around the same time, so we were serving our 90-day terms at the same time. We cooked together, went to meetings together (though most of the time we just sat outside and smoked), and were attached at the hip. The case managers saw this and tried to warn us, saying ‘you guys are going to get each other into trouble’ in a jokingish manner, but so not joking at the same time. My case manager got real with me one day and said ‘Judith, if you move out with Mandy, I assure you that you will relapse, and it’s going to get worse than ever before, and I can only hope and pray you stay alive long enough to really get yourself better.’ I was like ‘PSSSHHHTTT… you don’t know nothin’ lady!’

We decided we were gonna move out together and be roommates. The case managers heard about this and made a plea, offering us Phase 2 together, if we would only stay in the program.

Neither of us were ready nor willing to do what needed to be done to stay sober, and we were headstrong in our determination to move out together and have a cute apartment and make dinner for each other and live happily ever after.

To be honest, a part of me knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I knew I should listen to my case manager and give Phase 2 a try. I knew I should NOT move in with this girl, who had relapsed twice since moving into the halfway house, who was clearly not ready to give up either. But, the addictive side of my brain was telling me, ‘C’mon, this will be fun!!! You’ll be on your own again, able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, and omg Mandy will be so fun to drink with! You’re not like you were before, you haven’t had a drink in 4 months! C’mon it’ll be a blast!!!’

So on September 11, 2016 we moved into an apartment together.

I stayed sober for a little over 2 weeks in the apartment with Mandy. Mandy had gone right back to drinking the day we moved out. But I was still on the fence.. like do I wanna do this? Should I do this? Ehhh… fuck it.. life is too short to not let yourself have something you REALLY want, like booze.

The night I relapsed was… not awful, but not really fun either. Mandy and I had plans to make a big dinner with lots of prep work that night. She was like ‘Judith, wouldn’t it be fun to have a couple glasses of wine while we’re getting dinner together?’ and I was like ‘uuuuuuuuuuugghhhhh yes it would be so fun.. but can I? Can I do that?’ and both her and I looked at each other and in a split second the decision was made… time to go to the store and grab a big ole bottle of Barefoot!

We got back from the store, and she opened the bottle. The sound of the foil coming off the neck of the bottle, the sound, smell, and sight of it being poured into a clean, crystal-clear wine glass made me literally salivate. I drew that glass to my lips and tasted sweet, sweet poison. And… just like that.. I was drinking again.

Within a few days, I was worse than ever before. I was binge drinking, from the moment I awoke to the moment I passed out. There was no playin games or messing around this time — the sole purpose and focus was to get drunk. I would open a bottle and wouldn’t/couldn’t stop till it was gone or I was passed out, and when I woke up and there wasn’t any left, I was angry. Often times Mandy would finish off what I couldn’t when I passed out, so I was angry at her. Then she would run across the street to the wine store and get us more, and everything was all better again.

Within a few days of starting to drink again, I lost the aforementioned Project Manager job, because I basically disappeared. I went back to Gateway about a week after the first drink. I called my employer from Gateway and they said, ‘you need to take time to get better and we’re not going to wait around for that to happen. You’ll get your last paycheck in the mail.’

So yeah, like I said, within a week of the first drink, I was back at Gateway, where I had successfully completed in-patient treatment just 5 months previous.

I didn’t stay long and checked myself out AMA (against medical advice) right after the benzo taper was finished. They had to call my emergency contact, who I put as my mother, when I left AMA. And the cycle continues.

Within a few weeks of the first drink, I had been to detox twice. Within 2 months, I had been to detox probably 5 times. I’m not exaggerating, I could not live on my own volition for more than a few days at a time because I drank myself to near death every chance I got.

I would get retail associate jobs that I would keep for about 2 weeks, enough to collect a paycheck, and then never show up again. I would stop showing up because I was either too drunk to get myself to work and/or care, would show up to the job drunk or severely hungover, or I was in detox again.

On, and on, and on, and on like this for 5 months. It was exhausting.

I was beginning to think of myself as a lost cause, and I think my parents were starting to feel this way, too. Nothing seemed to slow down my drinking. Not detox, not halfway houses, not inpatient treatment, not employment or money, not near-death experiences, nothing. I was starting to feel like there was no way out of this cycle unless I took my own life and ended it once and for all.

I remember one day, after a particularly shaky and anxiety-provoking hangover, I went to this little wine and appetizer bar right by the men’s clothing store I was working at. I had just opened a new bank account so I didn’t have a debit card yet, and of course I had no cash. I was about to declare bankruptcy so all my credit cards were cut up and thrown in the trash. All I had were those blank checks that the bank provides when you open a new bank account.

I drank $100 worth of wine that night, and I got drunk, fast, because my body was so malnourished and dehydrated, not to mention the amount of pills I had taken that day to try and make myself feel better. I ordered an Uber to take me home and tried to walk out of the place without paying. My Uber driver got caught up in the Chaos (with a capital C) and wrote the check for me. I got into the car and made some bullshit excuse for why I was absolutely plastered on a week night. The Uber driver was Adam, the guy I mentioned in this post, who for some reason or another, decided that he liked me.

Adam took me home that night, and I invited him to come up to my apartment. I was so drunk, I didn’t intend on sleeping with him, I just wanted the company. He put me to bed and stayed the night. In the morning, Mandy was SO UPSET that I invited him into the apartment. On the one hand, it was understandable she was so upset, he was practically a stranger. On the other hand, SHE had brought random dudes into our apartment, too, so I was like ‘what the fuck are you all mad at me about?!’

What a great way to meet a girl, right?! So drunk she tried to leave the classy wine bar without paying, invited you up to her apartment, and couldn’t see to getting herself to bed, so you had to make sure she made it there. Then you were so worried about her choking on her own vomit that you stayed the night to make sure she was OK… how cute!!!

Whatever the reason Adam decided he loved me and that he wanted to worship the ground I walked on, I will never know, but I am grateful for the many nights he made sure I went to bed with a Gatorade at the ready for the morning. I’m also grateful he let me borrow his Xbox and TV, so I never even had to leave the bed.

I brought Adam through the hell on Earth that was my life at the time, and I will forever be very sorry to him for that. But he stuck around, and I don’t know why, so I guess I’m not too sorry? I don’t know. To this day, I can’t bring myself to texting him back, because I feel so much shame and embarrassment for what he witnessed. It is what it is, I guess.

Over time, me and Mandy’s relationship became more and more volatile. She had this boyfriend, that I hated with every bone in my body, and he caused many-a-fight between the two of us. He would waltz in to our apartment like he owned the place, clean out the fridge AND the freezer, use my towels, mess up the bathroom and the living room, and never repaid us. IDK, maybe he could’ve like, bought a pack of toilet paper? UGH! To this day, I still can’t find it in me to like anything about that guy.

Well, Mandy would be in and out, in and out of a relationship with him. One day it would be over, the next day I could hear them having sex. One time, she gave him $40 to pick us up sushi, and he was gone for ~4 hours, and came back with NO sushi, but was super high on crack and heroine. He was a real winner. And Mandy ALWAYS defended him and her relationship with him. It drove me absolutely crazy.

There were several times I had to call the cops on Mandy and her boyfriend, because I would hear a very loud argument turn into something/somebody hitting a wall, or the arguing would suddenly go silent, and I was worried someone got hurt. She punched him, he restrained her, they ended up wrestling on the floor. They would yell at each other SO loud, that at times, I wasn’t the one calling the cops, it was the neighbors.

She gave him a key to our apartment, and I was absolutely enraged. I made it clear I didn’t want him around, like ever, but especially when she wasn’t there. When I came home and he was there but she wasn’t, straight for the biggest glass I went, and shut myself in my room, drowning my rage and anger with alcohol and Ativan.

To get back at her, I gave Adam a key. Adam was responsible with the key. He would come over on his lunch break and, for example, fix our internet or upgrade our router, or something like that. To get back at me, she made ANOTHER copy of the key and gave it to our other friend, Stu, also mentioned in the post Reliving Christmas 2016. Practically anyone could have gotten into our apartment it seemed.

We were in this cycle of ‘oh yeah, that’s what you’re gonna do?! Well fuck you, I’ll show you!’ and then we’d hug and make up, only to be at each other’s throats minutes later.

I already posted some of the details about this time in my life in the Reliving Christmas 2016 and Reliving December 2016 posts, and also in the Sober AF Thoughts for February 6, 2018, so I’m going to skip ahead a bit.

My life continued to be in a constant state of turmoil, chaos, and near-death experiences.

The day I lost my job at Siemens, I showed up drunk, with more alcohol to drink in my coffee mug. I left the office, practically stumbling over my feet, saying ‘I just really don’t feel good, I need to go home.’ I called an Uber to pick me up from work, and on the way home, I bought more alcohol to keep numbing myself. Later that day I got a call saying that I no longer was needed at the office and that my things would be ready to collect at the front desk whenever I could pick them up.

Like I said earlier, somehow Adam convinced my parents that if I was going to have a chance at getting better, I needed to get out of the apartment with Mandy, and in a safer, more controlled environment.

My parents, at this point, did not want the destruction that followed me everywhere, in their home. However, they agreed. I moved home, and I was like the Tasmanian Devil, tearing through and destroying everything in my path.

They tried to lay ground rules, like: Judith, you can only drink this much, you have to pay rent, you have to get a job and GO to that job, and we have to see some positive changes happening, or else, you’re out on your own and we’re done here. For good.

It was my LAST chance at making it work. If I couldn’t make it work living at home, then I was going to be living out of my car or on the street, and that was that. They didn’t have the capacity to care anymore, I was too far gone.

I’ll tell the rest of the story in a different post… I feel like this post is WAY long enough, and there’s still quite a bit to tell.

The good news is that I’m now within just a few days of 9 months clean and sober. I’m not homeless, I have a steady job, and I truly enjoy my life today. I found a way out from a situation that didn’t seem to have any other way out other than taking my own life. Recently, I read a quote that pretty much summed it up:

“You can start out with nothing, and out of nothing, and out of no way, a way will be made.”

This is what I did and continue doing every single day, tirelessly, just like I used to drink, relentlessly.

 

Thanks for reading and please reach out if you wanna chat!

Sincerely,

Judith

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on by Judith Adams 4