Day Ten – Termination.
Having managed most days to write something, I can quite clearly see my mental decline. I have decided to speak to the social worker tomorrow and when nothing comes of it – or even if something comes of it – to leave. It’s not healthy for me to be surrounded with people who glorify using or even just talk about it factually (as all of us do; I am not excluding myself from this behaviour but I have recognised that I need to avoid doing it).
I have gleaned something positive from this: I have rekindled my love of animals and have realised I have somehow retained a bit of the information I collected as a child. Clearly having bombarded my brain with chemical comforts hasn’t done that much damage (fingers crossed!). I have also learnt a few new things too, plenty of fuel for my dream cottage fire. But I think it’s better to leave now.
And the following day, I left. I don’t regret that decision, despite the relapses. The intensive drug discussion and self-inventory that rehab brings can work to help some people build the platform to support them in staying sober; with me, it works exactly the opposite way. I get increasingly turned on by the idea of ‘breaking the rules’ and taking drugs. As an example of the scale of the problem, when they took blood from me on the second day I was so happy that they used a huge needle! And every time I tried acupuncture, I was spurring the poor doctor on to dig the needles in deeper just to try and satisfy my craving to inject. No, I maintain that not discussing/thinking about taking drugs is the best method for me (although maybe that means I should stop writing this blog?!).