Watching Kiki cry hurts me more than she can imagine. When will she finally see me as an adult? I’m not as clueless as she thinks. There’s nothing I can do to make her tears stop. She’s going to learn the hard way. It’s the only way that works.
I hit my bottom two years ago. I almost got kicked out of college. My drinking quickly escalated from having a few to binging every night. I did coke to keep me awake, and to drink more. I couldn’t eat or sleep without smoking a ton of weed. Clubbing meant dropping acid and ecstasy. By the end of my journey, I was smoking crack and popping aderall like candy. I woke up in the drunk tank more than once. Cops arrested me for disorderly conduct, and I spent a few nights in jail.
The binging didn’t end until I landed in a mental institution. I had developed a high level of psychosis. Paranoia ruled my life. Friends tried to stage an intervention, to no avail. The psych ward was quite an experience. I detoxed for a while, and took pills to battle my mental disorders. Talking with a shrink didn’t help. All I wanted was drink and use again until I’d die.
Sheltered from the outside world, I saw no way out. When I thought everything was over for good, a nurse gave me a copy of the Big Book of AA. Not convinced the book held the answer to my problem, I didn’t read for days. A book would not help. Nothing would save me. It was too late.
One sleepless night, I opened the book nonetheless. And I didn’t stop reading until I reached the very end. How could someone find the answer to all my questions? The author of this book was a true genius. And for the first time, I felt hope.
My life never was the same after that. I made the conscious decision to stay sober. Drugs and alcohol ruined my health and mostly, my sanity. If I remained sober long enough, I could change and improve. Become the guy I was always afraid to be. Hiding behind my addiction only led me faster to my bottom.
And I never wish to hit that bottom again.
Helping Kiki gave me a purpose. I don’t intend to save her especially if she doesn’t want to save herself. But I can be there for her, just like today. When she’s lost and confused, I can be her guide. Hold her hand and reassure her she’s going to be okay. Her wellbeing is all I care about. Because knowing she’s well helps my recovery too.
Looking at her from across this depressing hospital room, I feel love and compassion. She hates showing her weaknesses to the whole wide world. Even if the whole wide world solely consists of the nurse and myself. Our friendship has reached a new level after this incident. Either she will stop talking to me altogether or she’ll trust me unconditionally.
“I promise you’ll be fine,” I whisper to her as she cries into her pillow.
She nods, and I can tell she’s not convinced she’ll be fine after all. And deep inside, I’m not convinced either.
I can tell myself as much as I’m perfectly able to help her, in the end, her recovery isn’t under my control. She’s the only one holding the key to her own salvation.
To be continued…