First day out.

It's a strange experience walking out of a detox.  You're still a tad groggy and confused from the medication.  You experience a weird sense of tunnel vision, in the literal sense.  It seems that your peripheral vision has been reduced significantly.  This probably can also be attributed to the lingering effects of the meds.  I stared straight ahead and banged through a couple of fire doors and made my way out into the sunshine.  Looking around , it seemed as if I was in a different country.  The landmarks were the same, but something just wasn't right.  The subtle changes to the foliage and temperature made everything a bit surreal.  While nature kept plodding along indifferently towards winter, I had stopped time with my drinking and subsequent hospital stay.  It takes a while to readjust; to get back in line with reality.  That is why it is said that alcoholics who start drinking at a young age, say fifteen, never mature past that age.  Intellectual growth is put on hold.  If they finally do stop at forty-five, they find themselves as a child inserted into a world of (mostly) capable adults.  This is a very uncomfortable situation to be in, and the normal coping response is to start drinking again. The deck is stacked against you.

Now, most people do not understand the seriousness of the situation I have just described. They expect that the person returning from treatment should be firing on all eight cylinders.  Tireless, efficient and clear-headed.  'Russ, great to have you back, we've got a lot of catching up to do around here.'  After all, the problem has been removed, right?   However, this is not the case at all.  The problem has actually been revealed, and it is extensive.  This when the real work must begin.  This was weighing on me pretty heavily, especially since I had decided that going forward, the bottle was not going to be an option.  Fortunately, there were some medications waiting for me in the pharmacy that would help me get through this adjustment period.  All of a sudden, the gravity of the situation I was in hit me.  I was filled with abject dread and horror.  My heart rate doubled and I started to hyperventilate.  I became diaphoretic.  I had to stop walking for a minute, put my hands on my knees, and bend over.  All you have to do is not drink, I said to myself.  Everything else will work out.  Just don't drink.  After a moment my breathing slowed; I opened my eyes and squinted.  Holy shit, I thought.  This is going to be brutal.  I made my way to the pharmacy, picked up my medicine, and carted my terror into the waiting room.