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So far, I have been in treatment for several months now, it is crazy to think about how much I have changed. I remember my first day in rehab. I was horrified, hurt, and deadly shy. I wore big baggy black pajama pants and a baggy red sweatshirt. It was comforting for me to hide in those garments, as if they were an invisible cloak. I sat in the corner of the main room where I cynically scoffed at all the girls. I didn’t talk to anyone for the fear that they would know who I really was and hate me for it.
I barely ate anything and became very skinny. I thought that if I was small and quite, I could disappear in the crowd and just be lost. I had mastered the art of invisibility. As the weeks went on I left on to long term care with the high hopes of myself.
At extended care I disappeared again and started to have the suspicious feeling that twelve step programs and rehab was a governmental conspiracy setup to control all the outlaws and misfits of the world. I decided I was not an alcoholic and started the relapse process. I met a girl at extended care who was around my age that was just as sick as I was. To this day I still pray for her and hope that wherever she is, she found happiness. We became best friends instantly and decided we want alcohol. After a couple of weeks of planning we were able to get a hold of vanilla extract and drank it in my room. Later on we got a hold of whisky and drank that as well. We got caught. It amazes me to this day that I was able to justify all these actions. I told myself I was taking a stand against the oppressors against all the people that tried to restrict the artists, activists, romantics, philosophers, revolutionaries, and the odd balls that never belonged. I thought I was doing a service to the dwellers of the underworld. I made plans to hitchhike back to California and start a revolution. Now I laugh at how insane I was. Somehow my drinking of the extract was the start of my revolution when really it was probably the most pathetic moment of my life.