The First 30 Days: Keep Coming Back, it Works if You Work it

I woke up in the hospital, my palms sweaty, mouth dry, and the overwhelming sensation that my entire life was spinning out of control. I had an EKG on my chest and confused I pulled on the cords. The nurse told me that I had a seizure and if I hadn’t been in the hospital I would have died. All I could do was cry. June 2nd of 2011, my second day in the hospital, was day one of my sobriety.

I spent four days in the hospital, locked in the intensive care unit with twenty-four hour supervision to make sure I didn’t attempt suicide again. My time in the hospital was bleak; I was bored, confused, and gravely desperate for help. Before I tried to kill myself I found out I was going to treatment, and among other reasons, the thought of stopping the drinking and drugging was too much for me to handle. I was held in the hospital until my eighteenth birthday when I checked into a treatment center. My first day in rehab I was energetic and incredibly happy. The fear and desperation was replaced by a sense of hope. I became excited to stop living the way I had been for the past five years. However the feeling of self-loathing didn’t dissipate quickly. My first night I didn’t sleep. I had anxiety and panic attacks, although I didn’t think I was anxious or scared my body told me I was.

After sleeping I made friends with my peers in treatment. They became my family, my support system, and my sounding bored. It was a family like none that I had ever been a part of; they were caring, nurturing, and most of all, unconditionally loving. As I listened to them and shared my own experience the shame related to my illness melted away and gave way to sense of belonging. I finally felt at home.

My days were characterized by group therapy, individual therapy, meals, and group activates. I learned for the first time to be honest and open. However, none of it was easy. The word forever scared me and even the love scared me, I waited for the day that they would reject me and hate me like I did myself, but it never came. I fell in love with the program and the hope that it gave me. I gave myself to something bigger than me, love, and I slowly peeled back the layers that contributed to and perpetuated my illness. I went to AA every day and shared at every chance I could. I attached myself to the idea of sobriety and clung to it with the ferocity of a dying person to a cure. When I finally stood up and got my thirty-day chip I was overwhelmed by pride and accomplishment. I knew that my work had only just begun but I was excited, scared, and hopeful for what laid ahead.

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