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The Mind in Recovery

A personal journey of fighting the addicted and destructive mind.

I got used to the daily routine and the discipline. I always needed discipline because I could not discipline myself which is a common characteristic among addicted individuals. It is not our fault and it is not something that others do not lack. We just have different reactions to it. It sounds weird but I liked the open doors, the nurses who checked on us during the night, and the entire schedule. My favorite was the homework time. I wrote in my journal that included describing plans. It also encouraged us to be honest with ourselves and study the background of addiction. I loved taking notes during the therapy sessions. Rating our days and evenings also offered insights about our progress. When I rated one morning as a 10, I received a standing ovation. It was a big deal and did not happen very often.

Every single day I met my psychiatrist. Usually for 5 minutes. He only prescribed medication but he was there if I wanted to talk. My physician completed blood tests regularly. My results happily screamed at me saying that they were fantastic. I almost hugged the doctor because I was afraid that my health hid nasty secrets of liver disease or other illnesses. However, it was annoying that the nurses refused to give me simple Tylenol for my aching neck unless I consulted with my doctor. It was pretty uncomfortable in the middle of the night when the doctors were not available. Ah well, I got an ice pack...

The daily AA meetings were confusing to the entire group, Many of us knew the program and previously attended meetings outside. The issue was the sharing part. We agreed that it was useless because it seemed forced especially when we had volunteer AA visitors who acted as they were little leaders (of course there are no leaders in AA..well not normally). We rather shared when we were coloring, walking to the cafeteria or hanging out on the corridors. Those precious conversations meant the world to me.

I learned the most from my fellows. Their thoughts, experiences, and personal stories helped me to realize how similar we were to each other. Knowing that I was not simply crazy or lost provided serenity and motivation to change. On the other hand, sometimes I felt like I had two different personalities. How could I laugh and joke around when I felt lonely and scared? Did I cover my face with a mask? 




Soon I became aware that my soul tried to defeat and save itself in the same time. I thought that my fight started before rehab. Nope. I stepped on the battlefield when I entered the program. My insanity was attacked by an awakening sanity. My maladaptive thoughts had strong and deep roots that I intended to dig up. But all the new information made my mind sweat. Thank god it did not stink...

In a recent post I wrote that I chose to go to rehab after nothing else worked. Whoa, I was scared (who wouldn’t be? I admire everyone who takes this step.) H. and my sponsor almost had to push me toward the door. Once I was in I calmed down. That is exactly how I feel when I go to the dentist. A nurse asked me thousands of questions and I got some food and water which was really nice of her. After I got into the rehab center everything went crazy fast: vitamin shot in my butt, extra pillow and blanket, friendly people around me, dinner at the cafeteria, AA meeting. I received my belongings as well...well...half of my stuff was missing. I carefully packed. I reviewed the website of the hospital that explained the rules: no phone, no glass, no plastic, no metal etc. Obviously I did not pay enough attention to the guidelines. When they took away my deodorant because one of the ingredients was alcohol, I freaked out. What would I do with it? Eat it?? Actually some people tried that in the past 😟 Same with cue tips. I heard that someone shoved it in his ear until it started bleeding. Eventually I accepted what they told me regarding the restrictions. They made a lot of sense.

My real fear increased once the place settled down. For a while I could not reach H. I felt lonely. The last time I had to be in a hospital environment (even if this rather looked like a motel) I was 3 years old. During this first evening I often went to the bathroom. To cry. I sat in the corner and my body shook. Not because of physical withdrawals, I was just scared. H. called me back and I begged him to pick me up. Fortunately, he successfully convinced me to stay. As I said bye to him, I teared up again. Two women from the group came over to me and gave me huge hugs. That’s when I knew that I belonged there.


The first night was more than interesting. I took Librium in case of withdrawals and Trazodone for sleeping. I was glad that I did not have a roommate. Of course I could not sleep at all. Checking on me with a flashlight every 15 minutes and checking my vitals in every 4 hours did not help. I ended up at the nursing station in the middle of the night to chat. They were happy to do it. For the rest of the night I just laid in bed praying and waiting for breakfast.


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Useful Websites

  • AA
  • SMART Recovery
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  • Psychology Today
  • Anxiety and Depression Association
  • Meditation Music

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Blog Archive

  • ▼  2017 (13)
    • ▼  February (13)
      • I am still writing
      • Leaving rehab
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      • Working for sanity
      • THE roommate
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      • Hi, My Name is Sophie
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