This disease comes with a built-in forgetter. Eleven months ago I was transitioning from detox to rehab, exchanging the scrubs and cotton robe I had to wear (and frequently change as I sweat out toxins) for my street clothes.
For the past year I have lived as though that hadn’t been my reality…minimizing and rationalizing my use…because that was just a fluke…a bad period of my life when I lost control of my addiction…but now, now I could manage it…That was the lie I told myself and worked hard to convince others of…Blocked out were the memories of exactly how sick in body and mind I had allowed myself to become. That’s the illness. I have a mind that tricks itself into staying sick.
Every day I am so close to forgetting again. The times I could have died, the people I could have killed, the loved ones I hurt beyond my own comprehension. They were/are real. I understand this is why I have to do 90 in 90 right now. There is no doubt in my mind I will pick up again if I am not reminded on a daily basis of where my addiction brought me and what is undoubtedly still in store if I go back out. This scares the shit out of me…but maybe that’s a very good thing.