Gratitude.

A long long time ago on one of the rare occasions I actually listened to what people said in rehab or in a meeting, I heard something that stuck with me through those early days of recovery,

“A grateful addict never picks up.”

Meaning if you give a rats ass about what you have you won’t use cause it’s not worth it to lose it all over a fix.

I have on many occasions taken for granted all that I have in life – an ALWAYS loving and supportive family (I can be a real asshole using or not), real genuine friends, a roof over my head, an education, a job and now my beautiful daughter.

I don’t always publicly speak about my recovery – if I’m being honest it’s because I was mortified a few years ago when I threw away the longest chunk of clean time I ever had over someone I was very much warned to stay away from. I did a quick 30 day stint – people thought I would be okay, that i had a foundation in AA and knew what to do – I did – but the world as I then knew it came crashing down around me, nothing made sense anymore, and I was so consumed with anger – which i naturally deflected onto everyone else when it was me I was angry with.

The few months after that first slip were rough I couldn’t string together more than 30 -45 days at a time, I did detox two more times and ran away from rehab -the one place I knew cared about me and was desperately trying to help me. I couldn’t stop using.

At the tail end of my run I ended up in a car accident that should have killed me but came out with only a broken pelvis and foot but like any good addict this did not stop me. I continued to use drugs throughout my stay in the hospital cheeking and shooting my pain meds- my friends stopped by a few times but eventually stopped speaking to me – I refused rehab (what were they going to tell me that I didn’t already know?) refused all help in general. Even on all those drugs, the pain from the previous 6 months somehow seemed amplified in that hospital room – I had pushed everyone who cared about me away and begged often for death.

So to shorten a terribly long story my sweet very ill father drives all the way from PA to Florida to get me from the Super 8 the hospital sent me in a cab to and brings my ass home. I’m basically 27 and grounded – miserable with no program – I can’t walk – I eat a lot – and then I start to hate myself even more. Eventually I come out of this funk, but still drink here and there – I see no issues with it but know this is not how the program I once believed in works. But like the stubborn asshole I am I continue to insist on doing it my way believing as long as I’m not banging Coke and heroin again I’m good.

I eventually get pregnant and after I give birth a drink sounds good especially after sleepless nights – sweet relief right? I feel like maybe just maybe I am NORMAL again (insert gasp – and maybe an old woman dropping dead in the back somewhere idk ) Ehhhh.

While I still believe a drink is not my problem, a drink in the wrong situation leads me to maybe a line and then that line isn’t the way I want my drug and in a matter of hours I am barricaded in a motel room in a cocaine induced psychosis trying to kill myself but it seems no amount of drugs will do the job. That’s my addiction in a nutshell.

I promise you I’m not just fucking rambling.

About a month ago I was invited to a convention by this really great guy (more about him later oohhh la la ) and at first I was like no fucking way – I didn’t even go to those when I was working a program why the fuck would I go now , but alas his good looks and charm had hooked me in enough that I was like fuck it I’ll go see what this “convention” is about. But like real rap I really was more interested in the mixer after and just wanted to smack daaat ass on the dance floor. Also he dances like a typical white man. (Sorry love).

Well aren’t I the one who’s in for a surprise cause I hear this woman speak and she’s awesome – like I’m in the right place at the right time cause it’s about being a single mom and no matter how much you love your kids sometimes you just can’t help but pick up cause it’s not your choice (not exact words but that’s the jist) and I was suddenly reminded of how deep my addiction ran and that I better start doing something for my recovery, because my little girl is everything to me, and I am far from normal. But the speech alone is still not enough to rope me back into the program.

A few days later an old friend contacted me asking me to come to a meeting – out of the blue someone I haven’t spoken to in years… coincidence? Maybe. But it started to get me thinking – I don’t really even enjoy drinking so why am I doing it? It’s literally dumb. But then I remember that I have a 10 year high school reunion coming up and I spent a butt load of money to drink… (I guess I can handle $55 worth of Coca-Cola in 2 hrs ? ) I go back and forth with the idea for a few days, unsure of why I can’t just let go – fear (what if I do this again and it doesn’t work – is it all for nothing?)

But this is where it ties in…

Gratitude.

I have such a beautiful life that I have worked my ass off to get back since those awful days in the hospital – and now I have someone else relying on me, someone that needs me and I will be damned if I let a drug take one more thing from me – especially her. There is nothing more terrifying than losing all of that and going back to that dark dark place.

So here I am blogggy friends,

Finally giving up my way and (mostly) ready to surrender.

new clean/sober date: November 14, 2017

my names lex and I’m a grateful recovering addict.

Thanks for listening (well reading).

6 thoughts on “Gratitude.

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