Tag Archives: Glen Ellyn

Letters to Joey….4

Oh Joey,

Happy New Year.  You know what you did?  You set me up to have one hell of a 2016.  I even got a post about it calling it 2016. The Best year ever.  Thank you.  I know you did what you did so you could save yourself, but boy did you ever save me.  I can never loose the memory of what it felt like to loose you.  To loose EVERYTHING.  In rehab they taught us to “play the tape through”, meaning when you start to romanticize about how it felt to get high, be high, you play that tape through in your head all the way to the end.  My tape always ends with you.  I never want to feel like I felt when you closed the door on me that hot July day.

It’s CRAZY how far removed I feel from that crack head of a mess that lived at 413 Main St. It nuts how much someone can actually grow the fuck up when they sober up and stop doing drugs.  July 6 will mark 2 years since I gave up on the old me and started to become the man that everyone knows today.  I wish I could go back in time to prevent July 1, 2015 from ever happening, but it happened for the best.

I hear you got a boyfriend.  Dann likes to throw little “Joey” comments out there once in a while.  You know what an insensitive dick he can be sometimes.  I’m happy for you.  I hope its everything that I wanted you to find.  I knew you could find more then I ever was back then.  It still sucks and hurts a little that you won’t talk to me.  I wish you could see me today.  I bet I’m more then you could have imagined I could become, however a part of me believes that you always saw the potential that I had.  I also am dating someone.  It’s more then that.  I love him.  He has the same birthday as you.  He’s moving in and everything which is a huge step for me!  We adopted a cat named Mars and it was a little bittersweet because it of course reminded me of Chola and Sherwin and how quickly I was able to loose my “family” before, but I’m a different guy now.  I really feel like time works itself out and Anthony came into my life at the perfect time.

We both have back rounds in addiction.  He’s almost a year clean.  It scares me.  I don’t know how you put up with me.  Not only were you patient, but you believed that I could stop using Meth.  I mean, fuck, you didn’t even know what it was until you met me.  I am not sure at all how I would handle if Anthony went back out again.  That’s one of the scariest parts of this relationship.  I do, however, believe strongly in him.  I’m pretty intuitive and my gut tells me that it’s gonna be me and him for a long time.  It’s hard though knowing that the kind of trouble I got in, he did also.  I was so damn manipulative though, the worst human EVER.  I tattooed it on my arm even!  I get all quiet when something about drugs comes up in conversation.  It’s like I obviously know we did them, but I just can’t talk about it.  Not with him.  I don’t want to know who he was then.  I don’t want to think of him as that guy because he isn’t.  I’m not an idiot and can figure out on my own what kinda bullshit went down.  In fact, it gets me angry.  Maybe jealous.  Anger is a secondary emotion so maybe that’s what I’m feeling.  Regardless, its hard for me in general to talk about drugs with other users.

On my front door I still have my little blue key that you gave me.  That’s probably one of the most sentimental things that I have today.   I got a new car, and now that my apartment is about to become OUR apartment when he moves in, I’m going to move it to my car.  You keep me clean.  You still keep me sober.  You made me better for him.  I miss you everyday.  I hope this is the year I get to see you again.

Love Always,  DD

 

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When things cant get any worse, thats when they start to get better

I hate that this is a “thing”.  I hate that I have to believe in this, that I have no choice but to have faith in something bigger then myself.  I hate that it’s seemingly true, that my so called life never seemed so hopeless in my 35 years as it was in July of 2015.  I hate I’ll be turning 36 and I know for a fact that he won’t be there with me this year like he was last year.  I hate how much I cried, how much it hurt and that I’m beginning to forget the worst pain I ever felt.

Sometimes I wake up and I feel OK, other days I get out of bed and I feel sad still.  Recently I’ve been waking  up and I feel angry, with an “its your loss” type attitude towards the only human being in the world that made me realize I was a monster.  What is different here than other days is the simple fact that I actually “wake up”.  I get up, I take a shower, I plan my day and move forward.  On July 1st of 2015 this seemingly simple way to start the day wasn’t possible.  The realization of what I became and who people saw me as in the world was crippling.  One of my best friends said “I know that you feel like you will never be normal again, but trust me, you will.” I did trust her and I can tell you that she was right.  Today I feel normal.  I am not crippled by my guilt.  I am anything but fake, and I’m not overly happy, and basking in the sunlight of new sobriety.

Life is still in a transition.  I still live with my parents, and I’m still in school.  Sometimes I feel like it’s never going to get better, or when it does, I won’t know how be responsible as an adult.  I know my thoughts are opinions, not facts, but that doesn’t stop them from getting the best of me sometimes.  Especially days I’m on a no carb diet, but that’s a completely different story for another day.

Even though I’m moving forward, and beginning to let go of the past, I know no matter how far ahead I get, it will haunt me forever.  I may forget how painful it was to loose him, and no matter how scared I may be someday I will forget, It’s certain my scars will last forever, and I’ll never forget his name.

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Auto Biography Of An Addict Part 5 (HItting Rock Bottom; Everything Happens For A Reason)

They teach us in NA that changing geographic locations in order to escape our addiction never works.  That we learn to manipulate new people to get and find the drugs that we want.  I wish I read that book before I decided to move!!  Guess what I did after I moved?  I lied to my family about where I was and what I was doing.  I kept my job in the city and continued to use Meth as a way to escape the reality that had become my life.  After I found a new job in the suburbs, I lost my job at Floyd’s after I walked out one Sunday in a self centered tantrum.  This is nothing new for me, the addict.  I’ve broken many bridges with employers doing the same thing.  After my full departure of the city I then felt so lonely that I manipulated new people to get and find the drugs that I wanted.

I met someone.  He was a good kid.  He was 14 years younger then me but a whole lot smarter then me.  He’s the only name I feel like I need to protect in the story of my life, however eventually hurting me in the end like I set him up to do.  I refused to date him.  To me, I was a horrible person, caught in the grips of addiction and I didn’t want to expose him to the animal that I became.  I loved this guy very much for all the times he was there for me when I needed him.  He didn’t have the label of being my boyfriend, even as much as he tried, but emotionally and physically became just that to me.  I tried to “white knuckle” my way through life at this point with my addiction to meth.  I thought drinking and smoking pot was ok, as long as I didn’t do meth, however I was still using these drugs to mask the reality of my addiction.  I used twice in the period of 8 months that I told this kid I wasn’t using.  He really was my anti drug.  He kept me clean for as long as my brain would allow it.  I never then used because I wanted to have fun.  I used so I could feel normal again.  I wanted independence.  I had my own studio apartment in Glen Ellyn and my boy had a key.  He cooked me dinner, he bought me a puppy for Christmas and he helped me with anything I asked.  This guy was the most loyal human being that has even been apart of my life.  I felt like a piece of shit.  My ship sailed a long time ago and I missed my ride.  If I pushed him away from me, then maybe he would not miss his.  I was no one to even try to spend your life with and I reminded him everyday.  He chose to stick around and I honestly treated him the best that I could in the state of mind and emotion that I was in.

My suburban job sucked.  I hated work.  I was at a salon all day doing nothing but smoking weed and sitting on dating apps that I swore to my friend that I would stay off of.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I called my old boss at Floyd’s and begged for my job back.  I knew that I should not be back in the city but I needed to feel how it felt to actually make money and be productive again.  Everything happens for a reason.  The district managers who I figured hated me anyways, denied my request for a re hire.  This left me feeling so broken, knowing there was no way out.  There was no future for me.  I thought this was a guarantee that I was going to fail, a realization that on most days, I smoked myself stupid so I could accept this fate.  Strike 1.

I needed an out so naturally I turned to my dating app to seek meth.  I found it.  I planned it.  I planned it so precisely that I told myself that I couldn’t smoke weed when I got home or I would get to lazy to meet up with this troll that was going to get me high for free in exchange for a night with my body.  I wish I never downloaded this app that night, an app I promised my guy I would never use again.  Strike 2.

While using I got a text from my friend that I’ll never forget.  “I hope that app you were on 2 hours ago was worth our relationship”.  I turned my phone over, already high and finished my night.  Strike 3.  I went hope and obviously couldn’t sleep.  I stared at the wall for 12 continuous hours.  No TV, no music.  Nothing.  My buddy came over to get his things and to tell me he could no longer talk to me, and I couldn’t talk to him, a promise that he has kept to this day.  Strike 4.  I lost it.  I went crazy.  The next day I had to move in with my parents because I couldn’t afford to live on my own, and couldn’t even be sitting alone as thoughts of self harm crept into my brain.  Strike 5.  I went to my doctor and wanted to beg for Xanax.  Everything happens for a reason.  She was rushed into emergency delivery, a month early in her pregnancy, and I was thrown into an office of a doctor that had no clue who I was or what I was going through.  Strike 6.  This doctor suggested Linden Oaks out patient.  I figured this was  a mental health program that I had NO time for.  I shrugged it off, as if she was the crazy one and went home.  I polished off my Xanax and drank heavily for the 4th of July weekend.  I have never been so broken in my life.  I swear I cried for 6 days hysterically every time I had a moment alone at the loss of my friend.  What did I do??

Six or seven strikes of life brought me to my knees.  I emotionally collapsed,  I wanted to die.  I wanted to end my life.  I needed the pain to stop.  The next morning was just as bad as any.  at 7 AM I took that crazy doctors advice and called Linden Oaks assessment hotline.  I had an hour to get there and have my life assessed, whatever that even meant.  I wish I knew then that I made the most important phone call I have ever made in my life.  Recovery was right around the corner.

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