Wei Stark?

"Wei stark?" "How strong?" "How strong is the desire to use?" Her German grandmother asked. Curen had just arrived home from a nine-month stay at the Gwinnett County Jail. Her grandmother, that she hadn't seen in five years, came from Germany to welcome her back home. She had tried to visit her granddaughter multiple times throughout the years, but each time Curen was either locked-up or missing. Now, they set on the front porch, discussing future travel plans together. Tears stream down Curen's face as her grandmother invites her to visit her in Germany. Her grandmother can see the pain in her eyes, and quickly switches the conversation from the future to the past. She asks her why she always turns to drugs. "Is the desire to use that powerful?" "Tell me...please!" She pleads as the tears begin to fall from her eyes. No words are spoken as her grandmother tries to conceptualize how a simple drug could hold a power greater than all the possible good in the world. She can't understand how using could be so important, that it would be worth losing everything else you hold so dear to your heart. Curen continues to cry, close-lipped, wishing it was as simple as her grandmother sees it. Her desire to use, and her desire not to ever use again, grew with each tear that ran down her face. She could not push out of her head the thought that using would make this conversation so much easier. Curen finally breaks the silence with a familiar line, "Oma, I promise you I'll stay sober." "For good this time." Her grandmother wrestles with the thought of asking her why this time would be any different, but instead just grabs onto Curen's hands with her own, and squeezes tightly. Fingers intertwined, Oma looks into Curen's eyes, as she gazes at her feet.

A tear slowly rolls down my right cheek, and then falls. A dark spot appears on the microfiber couch I'm curled up on. I could feel my heart sink into my stomach when I read the update on the television. Curen started using again five days after being released from jail. She has not been heard from since. That feeling of desperation was far too fresh in my memories. The hurt that I caused my family became ever-so-real all over again as I watched the tears fall from Oma's eyes. It's as if I wasn't watching Oma cry at all--but instead, like I was seeing the tears fall from my mother's eyes, my children's eyes, my fiancé's eyes... And as her grandmother questioned how powerful the drugs were, I could hear each member of my family asking the same questions. The question of Why? echoed in my mind then, the same as it has for years. Even with a couple weeks of sobriety under my belt, I still couldn't seem to get a grasp on that question. After spending 14 days at an inpatient rehabilitation facility, I now sit on my couch watching a documentary about the first and last days of jail on Netflix. Although I'm flooded with mixed emotions, the one that comes on the strongest, and holds on the longest, is the feeling of gratitude. I've never in my life been so grateful for something that many people take for granted--sobriety. I quickly realize that the tears that fell from my face, didn't come from sadness as much as they came from joy and happiness. Although the sadness of my family became real to me as I watched it be expressed through Oma, I was also overcome by serenity. There is a certain peace that comes with ending your battle with drugs. Yes, you have to admit that the drugs won--that you are powerless--but, the fight is finally over. You gain the freedom to put that struggle behind you. I wish there were words to express what it feels like to get the weight of addiction off your shoulders--to no longer wake up everyday, feeling awful, not able to do anything until you get that first "fix" of the day. So far, there's not a morning that goes by that I don't think about how grateful I am just to wake up in the morning and do whatever I want to do.

As I write this, I am 21 days clean. That may not sound like much, but in the last five years of my life, I'm not sure that I've ever strung together more than two days of clean time (other than when I was pregnant.) Although it's really too soon to tell, I believe that my experience at rehab will end up being the most important thing that happens in my life. All of my other dreams and wishes that I'm so hopeful for will only be possible because of my rehab experience. Before I agreed to go to rehab, I had to make sure I lost everything. It's amazing how everything can go so badly, so quickly, when you're spiraling out of control in addiction. Everyone knows the definition of insanity--doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well, the problem with being insane and crazy is that crazy people don't know that they are crazy. It's only once they are no longer crazy, can they look back on things and see that they were crazy. I can now look back on everything I had done during active addiction and see just how insane I was. Time and time again I would do something that hurt the people I love more than anything in the world, simply to get that next high. This left them continuously asking me if I cared about them at all. If I cared about them as much as I claimed to, then why did I keep hurting them? I could never give them an answer to their satisfaction, because it was simple to them; actions speak louder than words. If you really care, stop hurting the people you love. What makes this hurt the most is that I really, really care about these people, so the fact that my actions make them feel like I couldn't care less about them, is absolutely heartbreaking--even now.

While in treatment, I managed to read the entire NA book--and most of the AA book. The very last short story of the NA book really stuck with me, especially because I think it depicted the answer of Oma's question "How strong is the desire to use?" pretty well. The story is about a pharmacist who turns into a drug addict--yes, imagine that! Anyway, to summarize it the best I can, even though he is an addict, he still takes great pride in busting drug addicts trying to pass forged prescriptions. One day, a man brings in a prescription for opiates that was very obviously forged. Therefore, the pharmacist calls the police and acts like he is going to fill it. In doing this, he is buying time for the police to arrive in order to not cause suspicion and chance the man taking off running. The police soon arrive and begin to inform the man that he is under arrest. The officer isn't even able to finish his sentence before the man cries out, "Please, please, just shoot me now!" After the man was placed in the patrol car, the officer went to take a formal statement from the pharmacist. This quickly resulted in both the officer and the pharmacist sheading tears for this man and the struggle of addiction. Simply put, this man would rather die than not get what he needed. This experience must have really resonated with the pharmacist, as he noted that he never used again after that--of course with the help of the NA program. Unfortunately, I am no stranger to this feeling of absolute desperation. All of the barriers and lines I swore to never cross at the beginning of my addiction came crumbing down by the time I was nearing the end. Everything I swore to myself I'd never do, just to get high, I did. Everyone I swore I'd never hurt--especially not just to get high--I did. What makes all of this even worse--and I think most recovering addicts would share similar thoughts--is that towards the end of my spiraling addiction, it's not even a high anymore. It's more like you have to take the drugs in order to not feel like absolute shit. You reach a breaking point. You get sick and tired of being sick and tired!

Even though several days have passed since I watched that episode of "First and Last," Oma's tears have still remained very vivid in my mind each and every day. Her questioning of the power of drugs has been repeating in my head over and over again. This has caused me to reflect on my first and last days of my drug use. On my last day, I even told my dealer to hold onto something for me for the day I get out of rehab. However, something changed in my head while I was there, and for that, I will always be grateful. I can't pinpoint an exact moment in treatment in which this all changed, but I'm just glad it did. No matter how much I'd like to go back and change the past--fix all my wrongdoings--I know it is not possible. So instead, I have forgiven myself and now try to make everyday the best it can possibly be for my fiancé, my children, my parents, my friends, and especially myself. Things are not perfect. I think so often people enter recovery and believe that everything is just going to fall into place immediately, flawlessly. However, it's a journey of ups and downs. I know now that my worst day sober is better than my best day in active addiction. Because of this, I am able to remain grateful even when God throws me a rough day.

I still can't help but to continue to ask myself why? Why did I do the things I did? Why did I hurt so many people? Why wasn't I strong enough to just say no? The answer that is all-inclusive is: because I'm powerless over drugs. I'm hoping that what I've written here--utilizing a couple of people's stories I've read or watched--will help people, especially my loved ones, better understand addiction. I hope that the weight of the word powerless stays with them, and builds a new foundation for their beliefs about addiction. I hope they know, and truly believe, that none of it was their fault--that there's nothing they could have done differently to change anything. I'm really, really hoping that even one person reads this and finally "gets it." When an addict is in active addiction, it's not a "choice" to do drugs. In fact, you often hear people ask "What is your DOC--your drug of choice?" However, we should really be asking "What is your drug of no choice?" Today, I'm thankful I do have a choice. Today, I'm grateful I'm no longer the addict pleading and promising to my family that I'll never get high again. Today, I'm grateful that I'm no longer the addict that would rather die than not get my fix.

One day at a time, I will work to rebuild the relationships that I tore down during my active addiction. One day at a time, I will work on my character flaws to become an overall better person. One day at a time, I will show my gratitude for my loved ones and my Higher Power. One day at a time, I will focus on my sobriety. Anything and everything is possible, one day at a time.