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Writing Memoir: Walking Through The Gates of Heaven, but Hell


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[color=#4863A0][size=1]When I entered rehab not too long ago, I decided to keep somewhat of a journal but in more of a memoir form so I figured I would share it with you guys. Hopefully get some feedback from you all.

[b][u][i][Day 1][/i][/b][/u]
I walked into those dreadful doors today at 8:00 AM. I didn't even know what to think or feel at the time. Part of was so pissed off at my parents. I thought to myself, "How could they do this to me? Putting me in this place full of alcoholics and drug addicts. I use drugs, but I'm not an addict. I can stop anytime I want too, they didn't have to go to this extent. This is such bull****." The other part of me was the not as insane part. I remember then sitting there thinking "They're doing what's best for you. They don't want to see you kill yourself through all your drug use." That was what was going to happen if I hadn't of been put in there.

Deep down inside I knew that that place was exactly where I was supposed to be, whether I liked it or not. I had tried to stop using on my own, and it just didn't work out. I needed help with it. But part of me refused to accept that at that time. If I got my drugs on my own I should be able to stop on my own. That was my rationalization on why I shouldn't be even here.

As I wait and wait in this small little reception area, I find myself falling asleep and just in a serious state of depression. My father had already left a good while ago and I was alone. I felt so very alone, even though I was in a place where I'd be surrounded by people with the same problem I did as well as counselors who could help me. People would stop as they were walking back and forth to make sure I was okay and I would just nod. I just wanted to get the **** out of there as soon as possible.

After what seemed like forever, finally I start the admission process. I meet with four or five different people who literally ask me the same questions over and over. It got so repetitive I just wanted to murder the 4th and 5th interviewers because I was so fed up with answering the same questions. Why they couldn't have just made copies of the first set of questions after I answered them, I really don't know, but I did it anyways. I finally get done with all the interviewing and now all I have to do is wait for my room. It's lunch time now though, and another resident comes and escorts me to the dining area to eat.

"The names Levi," he says to me. I really don't even give a response besides a head nod and mumble my name. I was miserable. As were walking to the dining area, Levi is explaining all these rules to me, which I am not paying attention to whatsoever. To be honest, I just wish he would have shut his mouth because I didn't want to hear what anyone had to say. No one mattered at that point. I was just trying to figure out how I was going to suffer through twenty eight long days of this ****. Eventually he stopped talking, and I got my food and tried to sit as isolated as possible. People tried to make conversation with me, but they gave up after realizing that I just was not having it.

After lunch my room was ready. It was about 12:30 when I got up there and started settling in. I set up all my clothes, my clock, my toiletries, the whole nine yards. I look at the schedule that I was provided in this big red folder. I had to be at dinner at 4:30 and then in my first program at 5:15. By the time I was done unpacking, it had only taken about twenty minutes. I still had three hours to kill. I tried to nap. I couldn't. I tried calling some people. No one picked up the phone. I tried listening to music. I wasn't satisfied. I was completely isolated from the real world, and it seemed as if these three hours were more like three weeks in itself. I was on the verge of freaking out.

I managed to start talking to another guy who was also admitted the day I was. He was a really nice guy in his thirties. We talk about how we managed to end up in that place and got to telling stories of our using and drinking and how it was affecting our lives. His name was Scott. He had gotten three DWI's in two months due to his alcoholism. I told him similar stories of how using all the drugs was just destroying everything without me even realizing it. I told him my parents forced me in here because it was either that or live on the street. We had a great conversation and got to know each other quite well in that short period of time.

Next thing I knew, it was dinner time. I walked back down to the dining area to go get some grub and then make sure I was downstairs for the program at 5:15. I ate my dinner (not wanting too due to the fact that it was the most disgusting food ever, but I did), and went into the "Men's Lounge." I tried to relax for a few minutes but was so overly stressed out about this whole situation. I just couldn't. I walked downstairs to wait for my first program.

Everyone was in the "Legree Room," waiting for the counselor to come in and start "Spirituality." Next thing I know, Kim is walking in. She was one of the counselors I liked more. She was very pretty, had a long face, with blonde hair and was always very nice about things. She began the program and I fell asleep within five or ten minutes. I needed it. It allowed me to escape from everything for that forty five minutes I was off in a dream somewhere. I woke up and the program was nearly over, but next was "Big Book Study." So, I waited for Kim to dismiss us and off I went to the Men's Lounge again, which is where it was being held.

I walked into the lounge and saw a bunch of the clients just relaxing waiting once again for a counselor to enter the room. A couple minutes after the group was supposed to start, Rob walks in. He was a tall, african-american guy with big eyes and a very loud mouth. He was hilarious though, and always tried to make you laugh, and very successful at it as well. We read through the Big Book, talked about our experiences and how we could relate to what we read, and then I had on more program to go. I had almost made it through Day 1.

The last thing I had on the schedule was an SOS Meeting. SOS is like AA and NA but without the twelve steps or a higher power. It also tends to be very unorganized at times and a lot of chaotic things happen in those meetings. SOS stands for "save our selves" and/or "secular organization for sobriety." I hated sitting in that room for an hour and a half listening to these people just rambling on and yelling at each other. It just made me angry, which lead me to somehow start feeling more depressed. I made it through the meeting and then it was around 9:30. I could finally have time to myself again and just go to bed.

Before we go to bed we are allowed to have snack, so I head to the dining hall for one last quick bite to eat before I head to bed. I eat a bowl of cereal and head up to my room.

When I get to my room, I throw on some sweat pants and say some prayers. Before AA found me I only prayed when I wanted something, and I just wanted some sleep so I could get through tomorrow and to feel a little better than I did today. So I climb into bed, and don't have too much trouble falling asleep. I roll around for a while but finally my eyes start getting real heavy. Before I close them for the last time I think to myself "One day down, twenty seven more to go. I made it through the first day."

Suggestions and feedback would be nice. I'll continue with Day 2 soon.[/size][/color]
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