My last relapse only lasted 3 days but took me down. I moved back into the halfway house….again, I was back on track for my 90 in 90….again, had a sponsor….again, started step work…. again, but this time it was different. At 30 days sober, I had felt the absolute worst I have ever felt in my life. I had come to the conclusion that something was clearly wrong with me. I would talk to my roommate, Michael, at night and I opened up to him telling him how badly I hurt inside. He suggested I should inquire into the outpatient program he was attending. Of course my know-it all attitude quickly dismissed the idea citing outpatient doesn’t work for anyone. What did I know?
After a long day of work I was relaxing on the halfway house couch, mismatched from the rest of the furniture, complaining yet again that someone ate my cereal, and Michael tricks me by placing his phone into my ear forcing me to speak to this man that works at Destination Hope. So uncomfortable. The good boy that I am entertains his call, says yes to whatever (because I am just so good at pleasing everyone) and agree to come down and talk. As I hung up the phone, I said to myself…not a chance. This isn’t happening…..Whatever Michael said to me the next day worked because I was in his car on the way to speak to this man from the treatment center that I had spoke with the day before on the phone.
It only took 1 hour. In that hour all my fear, all my resistance, all my insecurities were completely lifted from me. I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse. Pay as I go and come as long as I want. How could I say no? How could I. In my mind I was screaming NO I WON’T GO AGAIN….but out of my mouth came the words….Yes, I want to start treatment. And so my journey to recovery began and I haven’t stopped moving forward since that very day. I knew I didn’t want to die, but I certainly did not want to live anymore. Throughout my journey and as I would begin to get healthy, it became clear to me that Michael saved my life.
Michael was a really good friend. We would stay up late talking almost every night. He had a few years of blissful recovery before his recent relapse. He would say the most encouraging things to me like “You are a good person”, “You are doing really well”, and “Everyone likes you”. Such simple words…had the biggest impact. I spent the better part of 4 months living with him and being in the same outpatient group with him. As time went on we both moved out of the halfway house and would go our seperate ways. It wasn’t soon after that Michael disappeared back into his addiction.
I haven’t heard from Michael in a very long time. It was my 2 year anniversary. I went to a meeting early Sunday morning to pick up my medallion. This particular meeting I had never before attended. It just so happened the person I asked to present me my coin was a member the home group. I was the last to go as the people before me had more years to celebrate and as I was making my “acceptance” speech, sitting in the front was my long lost friend Michael. As soon as I saw him I couldn’t speak anymore. You could hear the crickets in the room. As I came to my senses and realized I was standing in front of a room filled with people whom I never met before the only thing that I could think of was…Michael is still alive….Thank You God. At that moment everything inside of me told me to give my medallion to Michael, knowing he had one before and perhaps the encouragement could help him get another one along his new journey. I mean, he did so much for me. I then spent the rest of my time standing in front of these people telling them how Michael saved my life.
A couple of more years have passed and Michael was still in and out. From treatment center to treatment center, halfway house to halfway house. I would periodically get updates from common acquaintances. Sometimes he was reachable, other times he would disappear. The last I heard he was doing well having moved back home and managed to put together a year. I was his friend on Facebook and it appeared he was back on track living the dream. We would occassionaly email each other. I was so happy for him.
One evening I was walking into Starbucks when I got the call. Irana asked me if I was alone. I wasn’t. She told me Michael died that day. I didn’t know what to say. I knew she was close with him. I was close with him. I mean, he saved my life. Now he is dead. Dead from his disease. The same exact disease that exists in my mind, body, and spirit. Why? Why him? I was told when I first came into the rooms that I would have to walk over the dead bodies. I understood that as the bodies of those I didn’t know or never met. So naturally my sponsor directed me to the Big Book. The same literature that helped me get my life together….and I found the answer as to why Michael died that day…cunning, baffling, and powerful. 3 words. That’s all. 3 words explain the unexplainable and insidiousness of my disease. There for the grace of God go I….
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