Wanted

This new information was un welcomed, to say the least. But I was kind of expecting it. I guess I just hoped that they would see it as an honest attempt at doing the right thing for myself, even though it wasn’t. I was trying to weasel my way around myself. I DID WANT TO GET CLEAN. But for the wrong reasons. I was just trying to save myself from burning my life to the ground again, but it was too late for that. I had failed 5 drug tests, lied constantly, signed myself out of treatment, cut off my GPS monitor, and fled the state. I was done for sure. I knew it. All of this swirled through my mind in a matter of seconds, and I had to bring myself back to the current situation, I had to focus on what was happening right here and now, I had to try and plead my case with these people.  And that’s exactly what I did. I begged with the desperation of a drowning man. Broken and scared. There was some back and forth between me and the staff on duty, and they said they would see what they could do, they would make some calls. After about ten minutes, they called me back up to the desk to inform me that the Vice President of the center had agreed to let me stay, on account that I willingly  checked myself in. Good. Finally a small break. A very small break, but a break indeed. I knew that the warrant would be waiting for me when I left, but I also knew that as long as I was a patient in a mental health facility, they couldn’t touch me. So that offered a little relief. I was going to get clean, finally. And over the next couple days I made calls daily to family and had people relaying information to my case managers in drug court. My progress, etc…  But they weren’t buying it, or budging, I was done. And I knew it, the only thing that drug court would tell my family was that I needed to turn myself in and talk to my lawyer. Fat chance. I knew that wasn’t going to happen. My 6th day came and I was completely done with the suboxone treatment detox, and it was time to go. I got my successful completion ceritificate and called my friend to come and get me. She picked me up at union station in downtown Chicago, and did as instructed: she brought me what I asked for- a rock and a shot. Man, my thinking was so sick. The way I saw it, I think, was that if they weren’t gonna work with me, and show me some mercy, then they were gonna have to earn some money and come get my ass. I was about to go super hard if I was going to prison anyways. “I’ll show them, I’ll kill me.” The next few days were going to be VERY ugly. And then shit really goes bad. I was headed for some of the darkest days of my life…

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