When I first fell, or was booked to do time, I had just snorted two oxys prior to court. Then, when I felt the courtroom about to unravel I reached into my pocket and ate the other two that were waiting for me. That's 4 eighty milligram tabs and its only 10 AM.
That's how my days began. Needless to say those first days in prison were detoxing. The cold sweats, diarrhea, vomiting. The mood swings, depressed, alone, sobbing. Like uncontrollable sobs that shake you to the core and finally have you in dry heaves.
And I did it on my own. In a prison cell. Looking at walls that could tell a thousand stories like mine.
That was a long time ago. Yet I find I reflect on that. Just so I don't forget. I can't forget the beast that lives in addiction. And as I've said before....drugs are readily available here so staying clean is a choice. It is MY choice.
Finally I'm here at the end. My one year countdown. The journey is over; just the final few steps to take.
Like a soldier training for duty I have worked myself with training this entire time. Now, at the last year I have went full throttle. I have worked out my entire stint. When I began to notice a talent to draw I began to put a lot of time into it. I saw how much the tattoo man makes here in prison and I thought...I can do that. And I decided where better to learn than where you have endless clients non-stop?!
So my art career began. Art became how I did my time.
Go to the rec in the morning and in the afternoon put on some music and jam while doing art. I have put myself through art school while here. Some men come here and lay back and allow their people to take care of them. For me, I changed trades.
That was a major step for me in another direction. I've done construction work my entire adult life. And I don't like it but it paid the bills. That has changed.
I'm eager to devour any insight or knowledge I can find about this trade. Through books, magazines and word of mouth---I have so much to learn.
Anyways...I got this man.
Work and how to make money isn't something I worry about now. I think about the things that have pulled me down in the past. My very first use of drugs was to numb the pain of giving my daughter away.
After years of abuse I had taught my body the release of self-medicating. Whatever the problem, I could adjust it with drugs.
Prison enabled me to step far enough outside that hold, (that addiction) to actually see my life. I was then able to go back and find the root.
Rehab needs you to do that to be successful at recovery. Fix the root problem. Counseling, whatever, and work past that.
I found the root. I went back to a fine white line scraped on the top of a CD case. And I see now that I made a wrong turn.
That thing that nearly broke me made me who I am today. That little girl calls me Dad. I don't need to self medicate. While I was here I handled my business. Not only did I pay back this time, but I worked on myself as well. And I sit here a changed man. Still with lessons to learn....but nonetheless changed.
Plenty of times I lay back and think about a ride on my Harley. The freedom. But I also let myself go back to the places I used to live. And I see how far I've come.
I know my grandpa would be proud of the changes. If I died tomorrow I would go in peace. But that's not my story. I get to come home. I accept my second chance at life. My life becomes something.
No comments:
Post a Comment