This time of year is tough to say the least. It doesn’t matter if you’re in recovery or not.
December of 2007 was especially a tough time for me. This was my last relapse and last big binge. I had been to rehab in July of 2007, and I remember my sobriety date was 7-7-07. I felt like that was a good luck charm so I was sure I was going to keep this one.
Needless to say, that wasn’t my experience. Around August of 2007, I started to drink and smoke weed occasionally, but in my mind I wasn't using my DOC (drug of choice) IV cocaine, so I hadn't really relapsed yet.
I really thought I had it under control this time. I was passing drug test for the probation officer, I wasn't getting arrested, and I wasn't causing too much of a shit storm.
What started off as drinking on the weekends and smoking weed occasionally turned into a couple of xanax bars every once in awhile. Maybe an XTC tab here or there. And then during my birthday month (December) I figured I needed to celebrate, but I didn't realize that my disease had me right where it wanted me.
I started to have these insane rationalizations with myself about my drug use. It was the end of 2007 and I started to slowly justify my DOC.
I thought to myself: “Well I was shooting coke first half of 2007, so this year is pretty much screwed anyways. No harm in shooting a little coke before the new year.”
OMG you guys- like literally who the fuck thinks that?! I guess I do; an addict who is suffering and doesn't have a solution for how to "do life" without some kind of crutch.
And then all hell broke loose, January, February, and March, came and I was still on my "one last time" kick and I couldn't stop.
I remember feeling so empty and hollow that I wanted to want to stop- that I honestly thought I was a sociopath. I was using coke, meth, xtc, xanax, alcohol, weed and anything else I could get my hands on almost every day.
Before this, I usually would only take xtc at nights or at parties, but it got to the point where I hadn't slept for days and I'd end up taking xtc tab at around 10 in the morning.
Finally, the beginning of April, my mother was fed up with my shit (I was still living at home) and she called my probation officer on me.
I was paranoid and freaking out about all of this. Two of my probation officers came to do a field visit at my home and I wasn't even pretending to hide anything anymore. There were empty baggies, pill bottles, vodka bottles, syringes all over my room and I just pleaded for help. And so they did. They put me in county jail for my own safety. The crazy thing about this, is that I actually felt good about it.
Like, how fucked does my life have to be in order for a trip to jail being a step up from the way I'm living?
There’s obviously more to this story, but it’s just important for me to talk about relapse during this time of year.