G.P.S and Rehab

i used one more time, like always,  and jumped into my friends gold Buick. It was time to go to treatment. I needed to detox or I was screwed. My case manager assured me that the place they were sending me would detox me. So, with a big black box banded to my right ankle, we headed for lake county Indiana. I was finally going to stop. I was gonna get clean and turn things around. Once and for all. Yeah right…I registered at the desk and they told me they were expecting me and took me back right away, I think, I don’t really remember a whole lot of the process, I was pretty loaded at the time. But I do remember laying my things down in the corner of my room. And sitting on my bed, looking out the window. “Fuck” was all I could manage to speak. The place had just informed me that they did not provide detox. Of any kind. I was gonna have to do this cold turkey. Yeah right. The first day wasn’t all that bad, because I was so faded the whole time. I just nodded in and out and pretended to show little  interest whatsoever in whatever the hell they were talking about. I just wanted to stay free, I did not want to go to prison. I couldn’t stop using on my own. I told myself that I was REALLY gonna do this, if I just somehow muster enough will power I can do it! I can just tough it out and get clean and get through this with a satisfactory discharge and just go on my merry way. Fat chance. By the first evening, about ten hours into my stay I was already getting sick. I could feel small goosebumps forming on my face, and the yawns came, then my pupils starting to  getting bigger and the cold sweats came. Shit. This is not gonna be good at all. I never took my coat off the whole time I was there. The rest of the group was playing volleyball in the gym and here I was, this sick, sneezing, miserable sack of junked out withdrawal, just wretching in the corner of the gym, contemplating checking myself out. Ugh. God I do not miss that. That night was hell,  not only was I miserably sick, but I was so full of dread and fear- coupled with restless legs and no sleep, I felt like it was the night before my execution. I felt my life just burning down around me. This was as close to a nightmare as I could ever create. I was so lost. Alone. Desperate. And broken. I was fucked and I knew it. After about 7 running trips to the toilet to throw up bile  I finally fell asleep, for about 8 seconds. And when I woke up, the withdrawal was unimaginable. It was Christmas Eve morning and I did my best to walk up to the desk and tell them that I was leaving, but I could hardly speak. But I definitely could not do this, not on my own, I was too far gone. I asked to use the phone, and once I hung up the receiver, I collected my things and made my way for the door. I had to do something. I could not handle this feeling for one second longer. This was one of the worse decisions of my life…..

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