18 And Life To Go

18 months ago today I walked into a court room with one black eye, $78, and a substantial meth high. I had known for eight days that I would not be walking out of that room through the same door. The previous appearance I had made a deal to allocute to my crime and take a sentence of 50 months in prison. I was so sick of my life that I actually felt relieved when I was handcuffed and taken through the door that nobody ever wants to go through.

It was over. I had a pretty good idea then that I was done with drugs, and the people that lived their lives around them. It took a few months in prison, after a little time with a clear head, that I actually began the healing process.

I had destroyed so much in that two years. I had become a person that I despised. I traded my friends, family, morals, and life as I knew it, for a world filled with betrayal and illusion. I loved it. Or at least that's what I made it look like on the outside. Inside I had quickly decayed and when I was inevitably arrested in a hotel in Rochester with 52 grams, I hoped that was my chance to turn it all around.

Well I was able to bail myself out after 35 days. It took me less than an hour to get ahold of my drug of choice and I started right back up where I left off. This lasted for six more miserable months before I walked into that court room on June 26, 2014.

I'm going to keep this brief because I have already written a post today, and I have certainly written enough about my prison experience at Breaking Free. I just wanted to remind myself how this whole journey began. 18 months is a great start in recovery. Every day is a blessing even if I'm having a shitty one. It could always be worse.