I remember the first time I checked into Drug Rehab in Utah and asked myself what it was I thought I was doing. I knew I didn’t want to keep using drugs, I also knew I didn’t know how to stop using drugs. But the constant churning in my chest and my head told me I “NEEDED” substances to actually have the ability to function a normal daily life, at least that’s what I told myself. I had used drugs and alcohol for so long I was terrified to think what life might be like without having them around, you know, living a drug and alcohol free life seemed like not only work, it scared the hell out of me.
As I woke up that morning, I rolled out of bed. Jumped to the floor, from the bed that was stacked one on top of another; My roommate was sleeping soundly, as I could hear his whispering snores from under his blanket stretched across his body except for a portion of a foot I could see peeking out from under the thin piece of cloth. The metal framed bed with a thin sheet almost like that of a pillow case, pulled over no more than a couch cushion made of vinyl and stitch, was merely a side note to the other conditions of vile and distaste in the room. As I slid off my bed, my feet hit the concrete floor and I could feel the cold slide from under the double sided, reinforced steel door. I peeked out the tiny sliver of a window into a world of nothing but steel tables, a tv and cinder block. Yes, I was in jail, once again, like I swore I never would again. As I peeked through the small window, the questions and fears raced through my head like the fingers of a woman, running her fingers through her hair. If there is one thing I have learned about serving time, it’s the fact that every fear you’ve ever had in your life will cross your mind when you are faced with enough boredom and confined space.
As soon as the door popped open, I grabbed the small piece of paper laying on the metal desk bolted to the wall and raced down the tier stairs to the phone on the wall. I waited for the woman to come across the line explaining, “this is a call from a correctional facility, wha, wha, wha, whaaaa” so I could let the embarrassment of being locked in a cage come and pass. Waiting for that call to be accepted was like waiting for Christmas as a kid, remember when you used to fall asleep for fifteen minute intervals until morning? Like that. The voice finally came a cross the line for what felt like an eternity, it was the intake coordinator for the Substance Abuse Treatment Center UT I had contacted the day before explaining my situation. “Mr. Smith, I don’t know if theres much we can do; I have spoken with our owner, and because there is no funding available I just don’t think we can help until you can find some resources to help pay for treatment”. My heart sank to the floor like the ice cream from a cone on a hot day. Crushed, I hung up the phone and began walking upstairs to my room; I planned on bunking up in bed all day and not moving. That was the easiest way to deal with life for the past decade, if things didn’t go my way, I would make sure I had a plan in place to make the pain, hurt or embarrassment go away as fast as possible. More often than not that meant drugs and alcohol, for my current living situation, sleeping as a long as humanly possible would suffice.
Come back next week and read about day 2 “Finding Drug Treatment in Utah“
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