I went through the things I had left there. I found old drug evidence- acid wrappers, a syringe . My heart sank to imagine that my mother had left my things perfectly preserved as I was going to return in a few days. Those things had stayed frozen in time. Although I did not use in the house, I had came back loaded when my parents let me move home as a lost 20 year old. More and more feelings came over me like a wave.
Then came the real celebrating- when different branches of the family met up at my brother's home.They all were drinking- toasting to my recovery and the return of the prodigal daughter. I hadn't seen them in 7 years or more. I wanted to drink so fucking bad. I was in a room full of people and I felt so alone. the guilt and shame created these cravings. Why can't I be like everyone else? I went upstairs. I was desperate at this point. I prayed to whatever to provide me with some type of guidance. Then it all became crystal clear to me. See, I told myself,- they can drink and have jobs and homes. But I am not them. If I have a drink I am going to want 10. Then I am going to find a way to do what I really want to do which is find some drugs. Then, I'm going to walk in the snow to the housing projects because in any major city in America, I can find some crack. Because that is who I am. And the cravings left me. I am not the victim in this story. I am fully aware of the pain I have caused others. That day, my recovery really started because I was accountable for my own actions. I was not blaming anyone else. I had acceptance and I was at peace.
|This is a picture from that trip, maybe the same day, as this story.|