The Motley Crew

I had a nice little e-mail banter with an old friend the other day. She told me she enjoyed reading my little blog, and jokingly said that I should have more than enough to write about in regards to the some of the times she and I spent together - while working a 12 step program. Now, just to clarify, I use the phrase "while working a 12 step program" very loosely, because even though I truly believe it saved my life, I consider most of my time spent in CA (that's cocaine anonymous to all you goody-two-shoes out there) (ok, pick your jaw up off the floor - will you??) to be oddly similar to my time spent in high school. I suppose in order to expand on this theory, I should give you a bit of background...

As I previously wrote while reflecting on my life, I hit a few "bumps in the road" if you will. One of the "bumps" was a tiny little problem with cocaine, which all started while trying to rescue a guy. (NOTE: PLEASE, if you ever meet or date someone who enjoys a little "partying" now and then - RUN LIKE HELL. You cannot save them, help them, sober them up or change them. In fact, as I found out, you usually end up "partying" right along with them. Which, in case you don't already know from Mrs. Reagan, is a VERY BAD THING. Ok, public service announcement over - back to my story.) Long story short, things got quite out of hand, and I eventually realized that I was DEFINITELY not happy with my life anymore and had essentially lost all control. With the help of a very supportive family, I started a outpatient rehab program and was given information on CA. Finally, I was beginning to get my life back on track.

My first meeting at RH (disclaimer - any reference to any person or location from this point forward will be entirely fictitious and no similarity to any person or place living or dead will be intentional. Even though all the people and places mentioned will be actual people and places I have known and frequented, since I will be using pseudonyms, no one will be able to prove it, unless they are stupid enough to admit who they are, which goes against the whole "anonymous" theory. So technically, I am not breaking any honor code) was one of the most glorious experiences I have ever had. I walked into a large room above a bar (funny how most AA and CA meetings seem to be either above or near a bar - kind of a bad idea if you ask me) and found myself looking at a roomful of people of all ages, but mostly 20-something like me. I thik the youngest was actually still in high school, and the oldest had grandchildren. Either way, they were all talking and smoking and drinking coffee. For a few minutes, I just stood there and watched, until a friendly girl walked up and introduced herself. "Hi! Welcome! Is this your first meeting?" She gave me a big hug (which I must admit, to this day is not something I am that comfortable with - strangers getting all touchy-feely) and then the meeting came to order. I listened, fascinated, as the leader went through all the old business, and the twelve steps and twelve traditions were read. (I wasn't sure how much of those twelve steps I was really willing to take, but I figured I'd give it a try) Then one of the guys sitting next to the leader started to tell his story. Form what I recall (and I am not making this up) this guy actually used to sleep in trees when he got high, because he got kicked out of his house. He had been through a million rehabs, almost died like eighty-five times, stole about 68K while partying over a number of years, and he was only like 23 years old. WOW!! I realized then that I wasn't really that bad after all. But I liked these people, because they knew what it was like. Even though some of them were completely whacked. (And I say that with love and respect in my heart.)

I started going to meetings at RH on a pretty regular basis, at least 2 or 3 times a week, and got to know most of the people who were also regulars. We actually had a little "clique" if you can believe it, and looking back now, the whole situation may have been almost as crazy as life was before rehab, except there were no "mind altering substances" involved. Just a bunch of people (myself included) who probably fried so many brain cells that they were just destined to be a little off forever. Every month there would be a dance (see??? Just like high school!! I told you!!) but not many people would really dance. Crackhead Jim would, though. Seriously. There was a guy we called "Crackhead Jim" (no, that is not his real name for those of you reading who may or may not know the real "crackhead" - disclaimer, remember??) who was the kind of person even seasoned writers like myself have a difficult time describing. This guy was everybody's pal, but he also got on everyone's nerves. He was popular, but also made fun of. Nice guy, but weirder than the average junkie. Crackhead Jim was the type of person who actually changed the word to Christmas Carols to make them more appropriate for sobriety - think "I'm Dreaming of a Sober New Year." He considered himself the life of every party and dance, and he usually was, whether he happened to be laughed at or laughed with was never established until well into the evening.

Then there were the good-looking addicts who we really weren't supposed to date. All 12 step rules very clearly state that you should not date in the first year, (although I never met anyone in the program who actually followed that rule, myself included) so as to concentrate fully on your recovery. But these guys made it practically impossible to ignore the testosterone floating in the air. They fancied themselves "nice guys," just forget that they were mostly ex-dealers or ex-cons who had been clean less than a year. At RH, everyone got a fresh start, and even though we all discussed our past in detail at meetings, all seemed to be forgotten in the social scene. (In hindsight, I guess I can understand my father's original fear of me dating any fellow recovery people) Once again, my codependent issues took over all sense of logic, and these guys were simply troubled men who went through the same things I did. WRONG!!!! I found out very quickly that these men were just that - men - and they thrived on the lost puppy method to draw in women. Not to say they were all jerks, on the contrary, there were plenty of honestly great guys, but the great guys usually weren't the ones who hit on you. And that was because they really were great guys and respected your space and recovery.

Finally, as in all good high school, you had your "mean girls." Yes, even in a 12 step program. These were the girls who did all the back-stabbing and relapsing and still smiled and hugged you at meetings. One of these actually became my roommate for a while. I think she has relapsed to the point of no return by now, and I honestly feel sorry for her. But that doesn't mean she isn't a total bitch. Anyway. For the most part, the "mean girls" wound up leaving and going back to their old ways - so that was a revolving role.

RH definitely had a major role in saving my life, but after a little over a year of more insanity (only with sober people instead of non-sober people) I decided I could tackle life on my own. I was given the mandatory warnings about winding up "back on the west side" or dead or in jail, but I felt I had the necessary knowledge and tools to live life on my own. And drink. (ooooh, I know, I was told by 85% of my old pals that drinking meant I relapsed, a fate worse than death, but guess what?? I don't care.) I drink in moderation now, have for the past 8 years, and haven't touched a street drug in almost 10. Life is good. And to all those people I met - well, guys, you have enriched my life and gave me a lot to be grateful for. Like I mentioned, I still keep in touch with a few, but to those who I haven't seen or heard from, I sincerely hope you are happy. Because Lord knows we all deserve happiness.

And to DP - this was nothing - wait'll I write about the REALLY good stuff!!!!