Chapter 2

His office was cold.

Joe ran the Portland office of Serenity Lane and the outpatient portion of their treatment program. He was a gentle soft spoken man and I felt like I could trust him.

Is it alright if I ask you some questions, Steve?

Yeah...

The purpose of the questions is to figure out what treatment program will best suit your needs.

That's fine...

What is your drug of choice?

Alcohol mostly...

How often do you drink?

Every day...

How much?

I don't know... A pint.. A fifth.. Quite a bit

Do you ever blackout?

I laugh. Do I ever blackout? I blackout all the time. I usually drink until I do.

Do you do any other drugs?

Yes... I smoke a lot of weed. Coke. Pain pills. Ecstasy... Depends...

Depends on what?

What is in front of me. I don't do needles... (I say this proudly like it is some sort of accomplishment)

How much?

I smoke pot daily. Do coke quite a bit. Lots of pills when I can. I just do whatever...

The questions continue for what seems like forever. I answer them all honestly because I don't see how lying about it now is going to do anything for me. Inside it actually feels good to admit what I have been doing. I don't know if anyone else knows how bad it's gotten. So much pain. I feel as if I have been watching my life fall apart in slow motion and I can't stop it. So many times I woke up (blacked in?) saying that I would never get this messed up again. Ever. Then that beast inside of me starts clawing at my insides... Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. I would cave to that every time. Addiction.

Lovely

More questions. More answers. Joe sat back and looked at me sincerely.

Steve, I can have a bed for you tomorrow.

Reality has a way of slapping you in the face sometimes.

Tomorrow?

I really think that you need to get into in-patient treatment as soon as possible. It is obvious to me that you need it.

I really want to start but I have a gig on Saturday night. Can I start Monday?

You really have to decide what is important. I am fearful that you won't make it. That you will continue drinking and get into a car or change your mind. I think you should go as soon as you can.

The voices start. I still think I have control. I still think that I can choose what is best for me. I think that Monday is best. I want to play on Saturday... After all, I have been planning to play for a while...

Joe wasn't happy with my choice. My arrogance and sickness still let me believe that it was MY choice.

Steve, I want you to still continue to do what you have been doing. Don't stop drinking because there can be issues of trying to detox without proper medical attention. It can be dangerous or even fatal.

None of this even registers with me.

I sign up for in-patient treatment. Rehab. I can't believe I am going to rehab.

*********************************************

The next few days are business as usual. I drink. I smoke. I tell myself that this is my last hurrah... it sounds sick. It is sick. I am sick.

Friday night I drink a fifth of Jack. I am terrified that I am going to rehab. I haven't told my parents. I don't know what to say. I have a dinner date with them on Sunday. I guess I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

I wake up sometime during the night because I am nauseous. I blackout over the toilet bowl and wake up on the floor later. My head hurts. Must have hit it on the way down.

Can't wait to play.

That night was wonderful. I drank free beer and played to a pub full of people. Most everyone from my job knew I was going to rehab so they all showed up to send me off. A very weird vibe. Must have really been sick to watch me drink and play and drink and play. and drink. and drink. and drink.

Always the entertainer.

I finished playing and instead of talking with people I decided to play video poker. I ended up winning. And winning. and winning. By the end of the night I was drunk out of my mind and I had close to three grand in my pocket. I don't even want to try and decipher that one...

I told many people "Goodbye"... some of them cried... I just wanted to go home.

***********************************

I met my parents at a Chinese restaurant in downtown Portland. They knew that something was wrong and I could feel their fear. We ordered food and I just had to come right out with it.

I am going away for a while.

What?

I am going to get help. I am going to rehab.

My Mom cried.

My Naval Commander Father cried.

I felt like the worst son in the world.

They had so many questions and I just didn't want to answer any of them. I just wanted to tell them and just run. Run. I can always run.

We ate in silence. My Dad looked at me with tears in his eyes.

Steve, don't ever let anyone tell you that prayers don't work... I have been praying for this moment for a long, long time.

My heart broke.


We said our tearful goodbye and I told my parents to let the rest of the family know after I was gone. I can't go through this right now. It is just too much.

I just couldn't sit at home alone. I was going crazy. I called my friend Sam from work. Sam was a guy who sat behind me and was a very strong Christian and a man who always told me I was better than what I had become. I was drawn to him at this moment. I needed to feel a non-judgmental heart.

Sam and his wife sat with me on their couch. I asked if they had anything to drink. I was shaking. This is what I had become.

I cried.

I cried on Sam's shoulder for a long time and He just held me and said that everything was going to be alright.

We prayed