Drug Addiction Stories & Info

I couldn’t care less what happened to me, I felt worthless and depressed, even though my parents cared about me, I still felt abandoned by them.  I had gone another year working the same job and doing everything possible to cover up my Oxy abuse.  I was soon going to turn 29, one year away from 30, if I ever made it there. I still felt like a kid, I was not able to take responsibility for anything I did; it was almost like my maturity level never grew.  I don’t know how I managed to keep working; I think my boss was catching on, just noticing the symptoms of what I was going through.  He came to me one day after work and propositioned an opportunity to get help, this time it would not be a detox center, and it would actually be a 28-day program.  My boss put it to me very simply, it was either I take this opportunity or I lose the job.  I had absolutely no fall back and was not going back to my parents, as I didn’t think they would take me back anyways.  I reluctantly accepted his offer and we set a date for admission one week from the day we talked.  So that gave me one week to keep getting high, even though I was scared of what was going to happen as I was on a larger amount this time around.

I don't want to lose my job.

When I arrived at the rehab center, it wasn’t exactly what I imagined, I guess I had seen too many pictures of those fancy celebrity rehabs and thought that is what it was all about.  The admission process was pretty straightforward, I was going to see my room first and go through all of my luggage, they were going to confiscate anything I was not suppose to have. Once I got settled in I was to meet with the doctor, he gave me a physical and we talked a little bit about my addiction, and also talked about the pending detox that was going to take place.  The center was nothing special, it was 10 rooms with two to a room and each room had a bathroom in it.  There was a small dining room where all the meals were prepared for you.  The nursing station was in the main hallway and this is where they administer the medication I would be getting to help with my detox.  I was all settled in and orientated; I received my schedule of the daily activities and my workbooks that I would be using.

There was a wake up call at seven in the morning, but I was far from sleeping as the withdrawals were already taking effect.  The doctor had informed those of us who were going through the withdrawal that attending the sessions was not mandatory until our withdrawals were finished, but if we could make it, he encouraged it.  This withdrawal was much more uncomfortable then the last one, they did not give me much for medication, only a weak benzodiazpine.  It helped with some of the symptoms, but I was vomiting all day and I could not sleep.  This went on for about three days, until I was starting to keep my food down and the doctor had started weaning me off the other medication.  By the fifth day I managed to get to my first session in the morning; it was a meditation session to help us get focused, and after that we attended our group session, and then we had lunch and went to our one on one sessions with the different counselors, and after that there were some different educational workshops.  They kept us pretty busy, and there were other activities to do on site, some recreational things, nothing too exciting.  One thing that had not crossed my mind was that I had not even called my parents to tell them where I was.  I don’t even think they would believe me, but they probably would be quite relieved to know that I actually did something about it.  If I could make it through the first two weeks, then I would give them a call and let them know where I was.

I knew I had a long road ahead of me and that things were not going to be easy, besides I had no idea what to expect, I have never been in a rehabilitation center before.  The people working there seemed to genuinely care, and the other patients seemed to be normal enough.  Part of me was not convinced yet, I could not wrap my head around the fact of not doing anything; drugs were the only way I knew how to deal with everything.  The doctor told me that I will learn to be in control of my disease and not let the disease control me, but even that I was finding hard to believe.  I don’t even think I was convinced that my addiction was a disease, either way, I was here now and I would make my best effort to get clean and sober and get started on the right track.