Right, so my head has been a riot for the past few days. Am in treatment for a ninety day program and according to my calculations am down one month but my primary counselor says that the first two weeks of admission do not count, seeing as I was so out of it that my program only just began.

What he needs to understand is that this is new for me, I feel like I have been pigeonholed. I can’t talk to my friends, I have limited access to the internet, I can’t talk to my mum, I can’t reach my wife! This feels more prison than hospital right now. I have to complete another two weeks orientation in order to get access.
The weeks have been interesting. Everyone comes to rehab with different attitudes and perceptions, and I like listening to other people’s experiences and struggles. I must admit that I have been in denial for the better part of the month, who wouldn’t? If they had to compare their addiction woes to other people! I convinced myself that I dint belong in rehab as I wasn’t as bad as the rest.

Slowly, I am learning that putting on a show for the family and my primary counselor only serves as a determent to my recovery, last week my focus was on the food, my room, the gym, the iron box and the rabbits! Everything was wrong with them! But nothing in particular! I was simply diverting attention from myself. On Friday we had a heated session with my counselor who was not impressed with the way I had been carrying on that week. His last words were “the day you start focusing on yourself and why you are here, is the day you shall start on your recovery”.

I have made a conscience decision to stop playing victim, to stop manipulating every situation and to stop trying to control everything. If am being honest with myself, I love the environment here, it’s quiet, spacious, the people are lovely and professional even on a really bad day and most of all I love Fridays, we have sports day’s on Fridays and once in a while we combine the sports day with barbeque.

The couple of times I have had sessions with the counselor, the focus has been on me, how I feel, what I want, my regrets, my fears, and my future plans. As I move into the second phase of the treatment, thing are going to change, the sessions have been getting a bit heavy and I expect them to get even harder as my family will now be involved. I know the counselor has been talking to them but I haven’t spoken to them. Am not sure I want to just yet. What do I say, how do I act around them, how do I undo the strain I have put on our relationship?

I feel a tad bit anxious, I cannot delay the inevitable. I have to see them and apologize sometime!. I cannot find the right words to say to any off them. My counselor advises me to be true to myself and how I feel and the rest will take care of itself but that doesn’t calm my nerves at all.

As for my wife, is she still my wife? Is she going to forgive me? Is she willing to take me back? Try again?

It has been a heady four weeks. Am now used to the medications I have been using to help with my anxiety. Sleep is now bearable and even though I occasionally toss and turn, the nights I have full sleep far outweigh those I don’t. My appetite is good and the last time I stepped on a weighing scale, I had added seven kilos to the skinny me who came into the program.

My counselor has been god sent. Yes, we still occasionally fight. Yes, we will every so often have so different views, someday I swear him off but every time I reflect on what we have disagreed over, more often than not I find that he is the logical one. He has been able to empathize and I can’t remember the last time I told anyone as much as I have told him about myself. At times it frightens me on how much he knows about me. The information he has would make very many people look at me in different light. He doesn’t judge me though. This is one thing I have not been able to reconcile about him. Heck, was I in his shoes, I’d judge me!!

There is this little matter. My family. When my counselor told me during a session that he had already contacted my wife and that she was willing to come for a session, I think my brain spaced out for a minute. I felt dizzy by the mere thought of what he may want to discuss with her, what of the lies I had told him about our relationship? Would he catch me on my lies? Would she tell it all? Why would she want to come anyway? I only had three days to prepare for the meet! And I prayed religiously for something to happen to make it impossible for her to show.

She did show last week. The accusations she leveled against me tore my heart to pieces. I was irresponsible and selfish. I had neglected my duties. I would use all my cash on my pills. I had become a pathological liar. I no longer cared about her feelings. Our relations in the bedroom died a long time ago. She even suspected I had another woman elsewhere!

Hearing these from her made me angry! Had I not been told that addiction was a disease? Why did she think that I did all she claimed willingly? Why did she not understand me? I thought she was supposed to lend a helping hand? Had she come to show how bad of a husband I was? It also made me sad. I had never heard all the damage and hurt I caused her verbatim. It broke my heart that despite my deep love for her, my behavior had ended up creating all this pain. I looked at her. Tears rolling down her cheeks and for the first time, I felt completely helpless. I needed to run and hide like I need oxygen so I walked out of the session.

My weekend was a mess! I was snapping at my friends, I dint engage in the gym! I tried a game of pool but that wasn’t helping my nerves either. Thoughts of the consequences of my actions were eating at me like wild fire, I had created a new problem for myself, or so I thought by walking out during that session. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

I met with my counselor this week and surprisingly there was no reproach! However, he does expect my mum and dad to show over the weekend!! Yes, I am mad ‘bells and caps on! I have boycotted the rest of the sessions! How is one expected to handle all this levels of stress?

Life isn't fair, I think the worst people have best of luck in this world. Hard criminals get away with a lot! Yet a chicken thief in the village is stoned to death. My addiction isn't as bad as other people's, yet the outside world judges me just as harshly if not more.

During my use, I never got high to the point of sleeping in ditches, I never caused an accident, I dint became a thug to fund my addiction, I never got arrested or did something crazy to the point of getting beat up by the public. Yet my family compares my actions to the worst of behaviors. I have wrestled with the idea that maybe they had a part to play in my using. It’s not easy to fully accept that I have been solely responsible for how my life turned out.

I haven't been in very good space lately (it’s to be expected after a few heated sessions with family) I have been restless, defensive, anxious and irritable. Am glad that every now and then I get to express myself to a totally different group of people as it allows me to reflect on my issues.

Am not sure how a parent, spouse, brother or a sister is able to forgive an addict in the family for putting them through all the trouble that we do! As I listened to my family during the sessions so far, I got a glimpse into just how miserable I have made my family.

When I took refuge in my friend’s house, for whatever reasons I dimmed valid at that time, I must confess that I never (not even once) thought about my family! Life was good for me, I had no pressure, I had my fix whenever I needed it and then some! I was living it up (so to speak). But what of my parents? My siblings? My wife? What were they going through during those months?

For any parent, spouse and family that has had a loved one just vanish off the face of the earth only to re-appear in whatever state with no remorse, and place full blame of their actions on the family members, I can only imagine how confusing that must be to you. No words can be said to make the trips to the police stations any less grueling, no number of apologies can take away the pain and suffering of visiting the mortuaries in search of a body, absolutely nothing we say or do can help mend the relationships that we strained! We only hope that you can find it in your hearts, however heavy they may be to someday forgive us.

I listened to my father during a session, and I was speechless. My mind went back to how "happy" I had been when their lives were in torment and my brain had nothing! No words, no expression! Nothing.

Addiction is colossally selfish.

Heady days, heady weeks. I stopped journaling eons ago and the weeks have been a blur. Will I ever be ‘normal’, if there is a ‘normal’? It started as a nudging thought. My wife and dad had come in for sessions and as painful as they were we had made progress. I had started feeling good, and my problems seemed to have been sorted (I could finally face my family!). I had stayed off the pills for a while and it felt great. So it was time for me to exit and sort out the rest of the issues as a family.

The more I tried to prove I was better, the more the counselor insisted they had seen it all before, see, I was attending sessions, contributing in discussions, helping out in with the daily chores, adhering to my medication and even helping out with the gardening! So how was all that not personal progress? I convinced myself that my counselor was purposely refusing to see my progress and that made me work a temper.

These guys were being unfair to me. I had projects to run. I needed to sort out my life and start making money. How else were they expecting me to progress in life? How was I to take care of my family? Were they out to sabotage me? I was getting really angry. Life at the program was getting monotonous. Wake up, have breakfast, go for meetings, have tea, go for sessions…. I could do these eyes closed!!

So, I turned to my family with trickery for them to get me discharged. I called my wife. She said she’d consult my counselor. I called my parents. They said they’d consult my counselor. It was my life for heaven’s sake!! Should I not be able to make decisions concerning me?

The more I thought about this, the worse I started to feel and the downward spiral began. My life had come to the point where I could not control anything. I had no say in decisions about me! Was I this bad? Had it come to the point where my voice didn’t matter? It all looked like one deep black hole. My life started losing meaning. What was the essence of living? Was there a purpose in my life?

The days started looking bleak. I started seeing no reason to wake up. What was the reason to wake up and groom? For me to start the same old tired routine? For me to live a life scripted by someone else? Where was the so hyped joy that they promised would come with sobriety? My wife, my family cared little if any. They had committed me to an institution. Given power over my life to someone else. Was it all worth?

And then it happened.

I was sleeping on days on end. Showers, a good laugh, friends, they had all lost meaning to me. That’s when I started contemplating. Would it not be better to just end it all? After all, I was worthless. Nobody cared anymore. My family was going on with their lives. I had just become an admission number in some institution.

The more I thought about it, the more it looked like the only solution. How would I go about it? I cracked my brain looked for how to end it all. Then it hit me! It had been staring at me all through. I was on medication. Psychiatric medication. I would faithfully go for my dose but instead of swallowing, store them. I’d put away as many tablets as I could. And then just do it.

In a week of carefully storing the tablets, I had about twenty. I needed more but the nurses were catching up on me, they started getting concerned about my behavior and even booked me for a doctor’s review. The night before my review I decided was the day to end it all. When everyone was watching the news after dinner, I got into bed, took a glass of water, and as calmly as I could, swallowed all my tablets. I covered myself. And waited….

The events following this are only a blur in my mind. I remember vaguely seeing what looked like faces staring at me. They seemed to be talking, or shouting at me but I was getting in and out of consciousness so much I thought I was hallucinating. I remember feeling like I was being carried, transported to somewhere else. I vaguely recollect flashlights being shined on my eyes. Needles being struck into my arms. All this happened as if to someone else.

It has been three weeks since the episode. I had to be taken back to hospital, needed detoxification, be put under observation. I came back to the program two days ago and my counselor has dedicated a lot of time with me. He has been trying to help me understand what happened. I already feel pretty stupid. Before this whole mess, I had never thought I was the ‘type’ who committed suicide. All of a sudden, the ‘Insanity of Addiction” that my counselor keeps talking to me about makes sense.

I look at my counselor. The concern on his face. Tears well in my eyes. I feel that if there is someone I can trust with my life, it is the face staring back at me. The realization is sobering. For once, I think I will just give myself to the suggestions of the program and hope that I don’t sink down that self pity hole again.

It has been quite a ride this one. It seems just like the other day when I was being admitted and fighting with everyone and no one. On reflection, I can’t stop getting amazed at all that has taken place. I wound up uncovering a lot of things about myself that I probably knew, but I didn’t want to approach.

One of the things that I have come to realize while in the program is that people care for who I am, rather than what I am. In my days before coming into this place, I was too focused on what people thought of me. How did the world perceive me in terms of material things? But here, the focus has been different. I guess this is what they meant when they talked about spiritual awakening. I am more in touch with me. I have found myself feeling happier and happier. And in my group, we formed a family. We all wanted to see each other succeed. It was a new experience for me. It was tough. But it was great.”

I have been able to deal with several layers of issues that drove me to my addiction. The deepest layer involved the relationship with my father. For a long time, we had a difficult relationship. He was a perfectionist and drove his children to perfection. I remember from very early being scolded for not achieving what he felt I should achieve. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to measure up to his expectations. Slowly, I started resenting him. He was my father, but he was also a stranger. Deep down, inside, it was really hard. That was something that was a struggle for me to talk about for a long time, even with friends or my mother. Getting that off my chest in therapy was this huge weight off my shoulders.”

On one of the family therapy meetings, I invited my father. And we talked. And talked. I brought out all the hurt that had accumulated over the years. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. He had always believed he was doing the right thing. He was dumb folded. And I will forever be grateful that he didn’t cut me short. I offloaded all I needed, and to my amazement, he asked for my forgiveness. It was one emotional moment.

Is my family perfect? Far from it. My parents had their issues which they tried to shield us from. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t easy. But what we went through as kids made us as strong as we are. And now my father and I communicate. It’s not fixed. You don’t fix something like that. But it’s better. I have found that with open channels of communication, I am able to better understand my family, my environment and myself.

We have had the conversations that we never had with my wife. The difficult questions have been put on the table. Where do we go from here? How do we start the marriage all over again? What are our different roles in this marriage? How do we complement each other? What happens if I relapse? They have been uncomfortable discussions. We have not been able to find all the answers, but am glad we have started. It has some liberating soothe to it. It feels like we are dating all over again. I am getting discharged. This is a bitter sweet moment. Am leaving behind a family! I never believed that I’d get jittery over leaving this place! Am I anxious? YES! I don’t know what the outside world holds for me. But I trust. I know I will do well….