Post #15 ~Part 1 -The First 30 Days: Crawling Out of the Darkness

Now let’s talk about recovery.

It took me a long time to get to where I am today. I am beyond grateful that I stayed, even through the hardest parts, because without those moments, I would not be the person I am today.

Over the years, from the time I was a teenager until now, I have watched so many people live with shame in their addiction. Then, when they try to get clean, the shame doesn’t go away. It just changes form. They hide their recovery because they are afraid people will judge them. Afraid they will lose friends. Afraid they will lose job opportunities or the life they are trying to rebuild.

I am here to show you what recovering out loud looks like.

We are breaking the silence.

In hopes of saving lives.

Thirteen years and three days ago, I made the most terrifying decision of my life. I decided to get clean. Those early days were brutal, and if I’m being honest, I was not convinced I was going to make it.

But today, I am grateful to say I am still here.

Let me take you back to my first thirty days in Spokane, Washington.

We had just gotten back from the convention, and I was completely exhausted. What I didn’t know at the time was that the dealers had been cutting the dope with heroin. So not only was I detoxing from meth, I was also going through withdrawals from heroin.

I was dope sick.

Now, just because I had that moment at the convention where I said I wanted to quit, that didn’t mean I had any real intention of staying clean in Spokane. My plan was simple: get well enough to function… then go right back to Los Angeles and my friends.

I was still furious at the world. I blamed everyone else for my situation. My circumstances. My addiction.

And the anger… There was a lot of anger.

I was not pleasant to be around. My poor best friend Lisa can attest to that.

After about a week of watching me suffer and snap at everyone, she finally said, “You need to go to one of those 12-step meetings.”

I told her I wasn’t ready yet.

Which really meant I was making excuses.

Lisa did the only thing she knew how to do. She and her husband called Kristina to come help.

When they got home, I was lying on the couch completely dope sick.

Then Kristina walked in.

Now let me explain what I saw.

Kristina looked like an old-school biker chick, about ten years older than me. Leather. Attitude. Confidence. The kind of woman who didn’t ask permission for anything.

She walked in and immediately started telling me what I needed to do. I needed to go to a meeting.

So, I did the only thing that felt natural to me at the time.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked at me and said, “Yeah… you are.”

I said, “Fine. But I’m going like this.”

And let me paint the picture for you.

I hadn’t showered in days. My hair was a complete disaster. No makeup. I was pale, sucked up, shaking, and looked like I could throw up at any moment.

She didn’t even flinch.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Then it was my turn to start making demands.

“If I’m going,” I told her, “I need a cigarette.”

She laughed and handed me one.

About ten minutes later, she looked at me and said, “You know what… you’re not in shape to sit through a meeting. I’m going to call a few girls, and we’re going to get food.”

So, we drove to the meeting, picked up a few women, and then headed to Shari’s, basically Spokane’s version of Denny’s.

I told her I didn’t have any money.

She said, “I didn’t ask if you had money. Order whatever you want.”

I ordered a salad.

She started laughing.

“How exactly do you plan on eating that?”

So I ordered something else.

And by the time the food got there…

I was asleep face-down on the table.

The next day, Lisa asked me what I thought of Kristina.

I said, “She’s nice.”

To this day, Kristina still won’t let me live that down. Apparently, “nice” was not the word most people used to describe her.

That night I went to my first meeting.

Not long after that, I asked Kristina to be my sponsor. Looking back now, that decision may have saved my life.

When I had ten days clean, Kristina and her sponsor pulled up on their motorcycles to pick me up for the weekend.

Kristina knew something I didn’t yet understand.

If she didn’t get me out of that house, I probably wouldn’t stay clean.

That weekend was Unity Days.

I remember waking up Saturday morning while everyone was getting ready for the event. Kristina’s group was doing a skit about one of the recovery principles.

She said, “Roni, go grab that makeup bag. We need something that looks like tweaker stuff.”

So, I grabbed the bag and started digging through it.

And then my heart stopped.

At the bottom of the bag…

was a bag of dope.

I just stood there frozen.

Kristina saw it, grabbed it out of my hand, walked straight to the bathroom, and flushed it down the toilet.

Then she came back laughing and said, “Give me that bag.”

And we all laughed.

But the truth is, if I had been alone when I found that bag… I can’t promise I wouldn’t have used.

That weekend was the first moment something shifted inside of me.

For the first time, I thought…

Maybe I really can get clean.

Unity Days turned out to be one of the best weekends I’d had in years. I met a girl who I instantly connected with. One of those friendships where you just know you’re going to be close.

What I didn’t know at the time was that less than a year later, she would relapse and die from an overdose.

I also met a guy that weekend who invited me to meetings in Coeur d’Alene.

Now if you’ve been following my story, you already know something about me.

Almost every relapse I ever had started the same way.

The wrong guy.

At ten days clean, I thought I was finally getting my life together.

But recovery has a way of revealing the parts of you that still need healing.

And the next chapter of my story would show me just how fragile early recovery really is.

Until the next chapter of this story, keep believing that recovery is possible.

Because if someone like me can make it out alive, so can you.

~Roni