Since my my life is about transparency – and yesterday in my life of sobriety, I slipped. Not in a got out and get some tina and a case of beer, but with pot and lots of Ativan over the last two days. I’ve asked a friend for some to deal with some anxiety I was experience, as I’m super easily prone to irrational panic attacks. Instead of taking a couple, I took four or five before going to bed, and then another couple when I work up as there was something coming up I was feeling anxious about.
What I hadn’t realized was that I had gone into full addict mode. The meeting I had was a disaster that morning. In the moment I thought I was perfectly together, but afterwards when I realized I didn’t really remember much about what I had said, I know this was not something I could hide under the carpet. I had clearly crossed the line from prescribed use, to all and all out abuse.
I could not pass this off as just “something that happened” and continue on. Fuck the three years sobriety I had, not that I don’t cherish that, but in a way that means I have to be honest about it and trying to cover something up that had really messed me up. When I’m in a meeting, and someone says to me, “This isn’t the Brian I know. If you see him please say hello for me.”
I had no idea what this person was taking about. “I’m here” I’m Brian” Nonetheless, later on when other told me my speech was so slowed down on the phone we couldn’t hold a conversation over the phone with one friend, and another told I just wasn’t my normal self, I knew I crossed the line into the land of Paula Abdul land. So there you have the low down. Yesterday morning was like watching a re-run of American Idol, with Paula Abdul minus all the other judges and talent. Accept I have little memory of it, and feel embarrassed that allowed myself to go there.
It was like something took over and the more the better. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not being a victim trying to create drama around myself so people can feel sorry for my, or want to hold my had and say, “That’s ok.” I don’t want any of that, the only saving grace is that I hadn’t gotten into a headspace where shoving a needle up my arm again. There it is: this is my confession, and let’s start the drum roll as I’m back to day one in the life of recovery programs I go
