90 fucking days People
I repeat Addict name Carlton has 90 fucking days and I must snitch. Just before I started writing this in disclosed located at 1:10 am I finally got a moment of clarity. The disease manifest to me I was on the verge of using. I made it a liar once again. See one of the participants that is again being held hostage in the house and it is not against her will, started working again. She strolled or crept back to her old surrounding. She getting paid under the table and this enables her to creep back out and dip and not dab with her drug of choice. Now this same person I knew for a while and the same thing for her drug of choice, I knew it longer. And the funny thing about it I heard it whisper to me, as a matter of fact I felt the disease trying to intervene with my serene and clean space through out my today. When I heard I would be alone tonight with the animals and they would be roaming around freely my insanity side started roaming around looking for me. I might not was doing the talking about using, but it was constantly being mention and my disease was acting up through my listening. That was a sign I took to heart, because the disease was just plotting obstacles around me to see, if I was going to fall for the okie doke. I didn’t fail miserably like I would have 89 days ago. Thank God for safe havens like Dee’s Place and Boh’s place, because when the girl came home so did the disease. And this mother fucker threaten me with your alone, your hormones are scary, and drugs is nearby, so you can reenact Halloween all over again and go tricking and get that overdue treating taken care of, especially since you got a few dollars to waste. I automatically used the fire escape plan, RUN. It wasn’t even a fire and I felt the need to escape. The seed was planted when I decided to go to the house and drop something off before I went to my home group. When I opened the door it was dark for starter, but the weed smoke lid up the night. The smoke was thick I needed a gas mask so I could get some oxygen. Instantly I realized I was set the fuck up, because I was on the verge of catching a contact. The disease had his henchmen trying to corner me. My emotions resulted in anger and insanity was peeking for an opening to act out. My feelings was calling my name, just get one. I knew that feeling was just something of the past and needed not to be fucked with. I dropped everything and jetted to the meeting. I thought I had beaten the odds; well I did until the end of the night. That was when I was going to find out if we do recover?
Girlfriend might have gotten mad, because I wasn’t chilling in the haunted house, but I will be damn, if I let any pussy jeopardize any portion of my recovery. To me as long as there is another recovering addict around that can hold my hand and make me feel I am ok, I can stroll thru the valley of the shadows death in Baltimore and fear no drug dealer. As long as I got thy 12-step literature and another addict, I will fear no disease. I think I spent no more then 15 minutes in that house and that still was too long, but now I know better. The best part of this situation occurring I am safe, clean, prayed up, and in a serene haven. Thank you God, I needed you and you showed up once again. I have faith and I have a sense of humor, because I know this was just another one of your jokes, except everyone but me was laughing. Make no mistake about it I was SCARED. I don’t mind taking my recovery seriously, because I took it for granted years ago and kept going to the barbershop hanging around thinking nothing of it or being clean. And one day I got all my hair shaven off. It took me 10 years to grow up the strength to get out that chair. I did take a one-year pause, but went back for my touch up. Like a dummy, i sat back in that chair and got a shave, shape up and some more shit beat out of me. It took me 3 years to get out that chair. This time I was dragged out kicking and screaming terrified of what I’m going to do now. Now I am kicking and screaming pass those barbershops. Believe me I see them in my rearview mirrors signaling me to stop by. Some even tried chasing me down with the clippers in his hands. Shit the motherfucker even got their bounty hunters looking for me claiming there is a reward, if I just turn myself in. I am wanted alive so I can finish killing myself. I got that information from my 12-step program everyday for 90 days, when I surrendered to cleaner ground.
You know what if I didn’t go to 3 meetings, 1 anniversary, a big inspirational addict with 15 years clean, not to mention the crowd of 12 step movers and shakers, with double digits clean time, who is to say I would have had that armor of information to remember, I don’t have to use ever again in life. Hell I was the addict with lowest time and probably the most liked in the room, because I still believe Good Times is not just a sitcom, but also a cliché “One Day At A Time”. They like or love the idea I grasp enough to continue to try and live. Not only live, but live God’s way thru 12 steps, because when I tried my way I was making excuses not to live, by using chemicals, because drugs been got evicted out the equation to be truthful. The best part about that meeting was seeing damn near every face I met, shared with, hugged, or just was in their company at one meeting or another, I really feel they have love for me and I admire them. I want to live longer to celebrate the years like they have. I already have the remedy to get that time, pray, go to meetings, and don’t pick up. The hardest part is practicing patience, because I can only get there like they did. Take one day at a time. Years from now I am going to look back and say damn I made it. Problems arrive around my monumental clean celebrations every month. I can’t notice them in the beginning, but I always am on the lookout, but the disease is getting more cunning and craftier each time. I already seen it brewing, but just didn’t know when it was going to surface and how it was going to affect my judgment. The though came and went. I proved I was stronger then I thought.
This time I was hooked and set up for the cloak and dagger, but the knowledge and escape plan I had blue prints for worked. Since God was pilot it went off with out a hitch. If I had decided to challenge the thought, I have been picking up my one-day key chain instead of my 90-day key change. I think once I looked in that mirror and saw my past behind me; I knew this was no place like home (a meeting). When I looked at how I liked weed just as much as coke and my support group would have supported me to blow one and the disease was trying to convince me they won’t tell. Immediately, I jumped out the fire and back in to the frying pan. I had a moment of clarity to see which of the lesser evils should I face, loneliness or using. After I thought about it I wasn’t going to be alone, I had God for company.
Hell, those who I know claim they got my best interest at heart, make me wonder, but after careful research, I am still responsible for my own recovery. Fuck what they think I have to always remind myself. I don’t have to forget the disease will use them against me, like the courts use associates, buddies, and family against one another as well. So now that I learned how to give a fuck about my recovery and not what someone think, I could hear the disease snickering, “lets see you matrix yourself to avoid this next bullet. I knew the house always been like a war zone and yes, recovery is possible, as long as God is my pilot. I don’t mind being the co-pilot for life. With the experience I am getting, I could probably recover in Iraq with all the drugs over there as well. God knows I am in no way trying to experience nothing close to that, so don’t answer that like it was a wish and it wasn’t a suggestion either.
I really know what it feels like to be alone, GOOD. I had been alone with a bunch of mutha fuckas I know, because they really have a strange way of including me in company I don’t find interesting or amusing. I can always identify with feeling WHY U HERE? That is the worst feeling in the world to be real and have to be social with Phony ass people. Being rude is not going justify why you here or make it more comfortable for the remainder of my stay. This is where coping skills 1001 come in. It is just like most people do with relationshits. Deal with what you have until you find the one you needed. In my case I’m on the toilet, I don’t have to shit I use it for a neutral zone, because outside of the bathroom I got to deal with shit that is viler then the shit I am full of myself. Ain’t that some shit?
Just for today, once I am bless with seeing my open tomorrow, I will be thankful. It’s oblivious something was done for me I couldn’t do on my own. See my best thoughts got my thinking screwed up. Now I must be afraid of the disease, because it got me before and still trying. The only difference I am looking in the past in the mirror and I see a man that likes what he is growing up to be.
