I’ve Been To Rehab Four Times and I May Never Stay Sober. I’m Still Recovering.
Our definition of “recovery” needs more nuance.
It’s simple, hun — you have the disease.” Tom says this as he hands me a wooden chip inscribed with the serenity prayer:
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
An Australian biker who somehow landed in Westbank, Kelowna, Tom is paternal. I’ve never been told that I have a disease, but his words incite relief. I cannot stop drinking, and illness is better than badness.
I have done horrible things.
I accept a tattered copy of the Big Book and devour it, highlighting, underlining, and earmarking earnestly until I have it memorized. I meet others who do the same. We form unexpected kinships, our lives irrevocably intertwined through a singular, obstinate pursuit of wellness. I repent. They hold me. I have never felt such intimacy.
When I leave 28 days later, we promise to stay in touch. I never speak to them again.
I am 18 years old.
I have been sober for 45 days, and something is very wrong. My legs have stopped working, and when I try to articulate how…
