Rehabbed.

Well, you'll be happy to know that I'm done. Totally rehabbed. Ready to hit the town in sublime sober style; I'm cured like a ham, friends... so now what?

Okay, to clarify:

I first went into rehab back in October. My sober date is October 8th, 2010, a Friday. I spent my first sober night at a friend's birthday party; she, along with a few others had taken the MDMA I provided them with, I spent the night refusing offers of drinks and explaining my reasons why to people I haven't seen since then. The place I went to was called Renescent, a 12-step recovery treatment centre located just north of The Madison at Spadina and Bloor. They require 72 hours of sobriety before acceptance, during which I sweated, swore, slept and played one fairly ill advised show.

I was driven to the Punanai House on the 11th by my parents, our small talk revolving around what I'd forgotten to pack and whether or not my dad was going to get a ticket for parking on the street. At the bottom of the stairs, I hastily explained I needed to smoke one more cigarette which made my mom hustle upwind to avoid the stench and gave my dad the opportunity to point out how I might as well give that up too.

We entered the house and stood around awkwardly while being eyed by a roomful of relatively haggard looking men. Following the lead of a Native man named Kevin who had as many teeth in his mouth as not, I received a welcoming committee of handshakes from those that didn't opt to shuffle out back to smoke.

Finally, Larry, the counselor who would later become my arch nemesis before settling into simply a mild annoyance, took us into a back room for my official reception.

My parents were heartily amused at his innate ability to poke fun at everything I said or thought. My dad called me an alien, Larry called me "princess". Everyone laughed at my anti capitalist nihilism.

My parents were given their leave and I was allowed to walk them out. We all hugged, I thanked them, they expressed their positive affirmations that I was in good hands and then they were gone and I was left to smoke a solitary cigarette on the front steps. Until Larry poked his head outside saying, "Hey, we can't have the inmates loitering out here! You're committed now, butt out and get in here." He said the words "inmates" and "committed" with an italicized mockery. He then brought me back to the boardroom to insult my leather jacket, question my sexuality and tell me how much fun I was in for.

This marked the beginning of the inpatient treatment portion of my rehab. Three weeks in house, leaving only to go to AA, CA or NA meetings, ten minutes a day to get a coffee so long as you let a counselor know you're leaving and you have a "buddy". It was a long three weeks.

After completing the three-week in house portion of treatment, I immediately began the five-week, twice a week aftercare sessions: three hours on Tuesday and Wednesday plus a required minimum of two AA meetings a week. After that I began my ten-week aftercare of Wednesdays for three hours plus a required minimum of three AA meetings.

In that time I found a sponsor, started therapy and began making changes in my life.

With three sessions to go in the final part of the third phase of rehab, I started working full time and wasn't able to make it for the Wednesday meeting. I was told there was nothing they could do, shoulder shrug, I guess you're done.


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I'm in contact with my sponsor, I plan on making it to an AA meeting this week, I still go to therapy, but, I have to tell you, I'm not really sure what else I need to do. I work, I'm saving money, I'm thinking about my future and what I want it to look like but sometimes I just get down.

I feel removed, sad, confused.

Not all the time. Just, right now, on a Saturday night when I'm home alone and I start to think about the point to everything I'm doing. Not doing. Wish I was doing. Wish I could've done differently.

And when I feel this way, I just let myself feel it. I take a deep breath (several) and just keep going.

What else is there when going back means nothing and going forward is so unclear? Right now it's just a sad and lonely Saturday night. I guess that's okay.