Some Random Writing on My 1st Time at Detox...

 

At this point, I’ve honestly lost count of how many times I’ve gone to detox. On one hand some people might say that’s not a bad thing, but sometimes I wish I could remember certain things…like the first time I met so many of the beautiful individuals I grew to become friends with. The vast majority of them are gone now, most before they even hit the age of 30 and I wish I could do a better job of memorializing all their unique personalities they way I want to and the way they deserve. I’m going to keep writing and hope the memories keep flowing the more I keep up with this shit.

 

            For now, what I remember about my first ever time going to Gosnold is mainly two things - #1: I was scared out of my fucking mind, and #2: I finally felt like I had found my people. The ones who understood what it felt like to live in hell every day but have to keep it together for everyone else around you. They always seemed to come first and you always seemed to come last. The very first day I arrived I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I can remember staring at my bag trying to pack…but what the fuck do you pack for detox? It’s not like you’re going away for a relaxing weekend vacay. I ended up packing mainly sweats, a couple books, a couple notebooks, random toiletries – fun fact – I learned that most hair conditioners have a little bit of alcohol in them. So therefore, unless you can find a brand that doesn’t have any alcohol in it, you’re shit out of luck. Obviously that rule also applied to mouthwash, perfumes, colognes, etc….basically 90% of what most people use on a daily basis without thinking twice.

            I also brought a little white stuffed bear of Soloe’s, and put one of her little onsies on it so I could hold onto it at night and smell her.

            My first detox was early January 2012 and at that point I had only touched pills – Perc 30s if you want to be specific, but it had already gotten to a point where all my extra money was going to them and I knew what being dopesick felt like. Little did I know that I’d become a detox all-star and end up so much further gone in the next few years. But in those first few moments at Gosnold, my anxiety had started to dissipate and I was feeling more comfortable as I went through the intake process with a couple RA’s.

            They hand check your bags (for pretty obvious reasons) so while I was standing in my room watching this older woman rummage through my bag, I was caught off guard when she yelled out and jumped a little, making me jump too. I remember seeing her take her hand out of my cosmetic bag and seeing blood on one of her fingers. I realized that one of the caps to the cheap disposable razors I had brought had come off and the blade had cut her. She had this panicked look on her face as she apologized and quickly walked out of the room. I stood there for a few seconds, confused by her reaction until I put two and two together – most addicts have a decent chance of having some transmissible disease…hepatitis C (ironically, years later I would be so lucky to catch that one), HIV, AIDS at worst. I was so embarrassed that it took me that long to realize why she was so worried initially and I remember wishing I had told her it was a brand new razor and that I hadn’t touched needles – yet.

            I also don’t really remember a good majority of the other patients that were there with me that first time. I do know that Richie was there, Franny was there, Anthony D. was there…and a few random kids that reminded me of other people. Like this kid Steve who I swear to God could’ve passed for “The Situation” from Jersey Shore. I’m still not 100% convinced it wasn’t him using a different name.

            Back then the protocol for your medication was way different. If I remember right – Suboxone was the only option and the first day they gave you 12 milligrams that you could split in half for that day. The next day you had to take 12 milligrams again, but all at once. Then the following day you got 8 milligrams (split), then 8 milligrams all at once, then 4 milligrams all at once, and finally 2 milligrams at once. After your protocol was done, you stayed for a day or two without any Suboxone. It was a pretty long drawn out protocol and that was one of two major issues I had with it. The second was: my pill habit was bad, but not that bad. The second day when I had 24 milligrams of that shit in my system – I was fucking rocked. I attended every group just because I thought I’d get in trouble if I didn’t or something. But that day I went to the first group after lunch and the Subs were peaking in my system. I can remember sitting in one of those blue plastic chairs and fighting so hard to keep my eyes open. It was a losing battle and it literally took everything I had to not have my head in-between my knees. I could feel a lot of people staring at me during the whole group, including the RA running it. And my roommate, of course. She freaked out at the end of the group and I could hear her complaining to the RA and anyone else who would listen that I had to be high, there was no other explanation for it. I must have snuck something in, bla bla bla…all I remember after that is getting really upset and mad. An older gentleman who had been in the group with us came over to me and told me he believed me that I didn’t do anything; I told him the Suboxone was making me jam sandwiched and he already knew the deal so he offered to back me up if I needed it. I thanked him, but I already had an idea of how to handle it.

            I marched back to my room where my roommate was sitting on her bed, and when she saw me she started all over again, saying she was going to have them come search my shit again and ran off to the office. I remember I sat on my bed, almost in tears, but too pissed off and stubborn to let it go down like that. So instead, I went right to the nurse’s station and demanded that they give me a drug test. They were all so confused but I was being so insistent that the head nurse finally pulled me into the back room and asked me what the fuck was going on. I explained the whole situation and she finally agreed to give me the test just so I could prove my point. I remember she said, “You know you don’t have to do this, right?” and something about that one question hit me differently and made me think about my mother and Brian and everything I had been trying to prove to them and his family.

            I took the test and all that was in my system was Suboxone like I knew it would be. I told the nurse to show it to anyone that questioned what I was up to and walked outside to smoke a much needed cigarette. But that one question stuck in my head.

            You know you don’t have to do this, right?

Like…shit, no actually, not really. I’ve been spending all my fucking time trying to prove myself to everyone so I haven’t been able to pull my life together. That day was the very first day the FUCK YOU seed was planted when it came to my recovery. Granted, it took a loooong, long, long time to fully grow, but it felt really fucking good to finally start standing up for myself.