For the past six months, I’ve been sharing almost three years clean too often. This last six months has dragged on far too long, so I am glad it is finally over and I can stop saying “almost”. Fuck “almost”, I am three years clean, at last.
I’ve often mentioned how easy it was to stay clean, and it has been easy. At least, staying clean has been, after I made the decision to do so. The hard part was getting to the state of mind of not wanting to use anymore, and it is equally difficult to define exactly how and why that happened.
The reason three years clean is such an important milestone to me, is that my relapse, after an initial nine months clean, landed me back in active addiction for about two years and nine months, so three years is the smallest number of whole years that’s greater than the duration I last used.
Before that day, before the 4th September 2013, I had tried (to quit using meth) and failed a number of times, so many that I lost count. In the end, my motivation came from an unexpected and ironic source: Megan, my ex who had cheated on me so many times I lost count. Megan, who in 2009 at the end of my first round with meth, lay in bed with the man who had beat me to a pulp, asking him if he was OK because he vomited from the overpowering stench of my blood that was everywhere, as I shifted my face on the mattress I lied on, on the floor, so that most of the blood pouring from my mouth would end on the floor rather than soaking my pillow. Megan who then followed me into rehab and joined me at six months clean, only to talk me into using at 9 months clean. Megan who then, after we sorted things out again, would leave me for another man and abandon me to my addiction again, only to return when the other guy died and she had no way of caring for her then four month old baby.
When she returned that time, I took a good look at myself and my life, and I stopped using that day. I have never used again.
One of my issues since then has been guilt… Why couldn’t I stop for our son? But I could for her daughter? I brought her daughter up for nearly two years, only to have them leave again. And I have won our son back, who was in foster care because of our addiction. It’s been nine months since I got him back, and our lives are going great. But for a long time, I had to ask myself… Why couldn’t I get this right long ago?
The answer, it seems, is that I was trying to take on too much. My addiction was my fault. But what wasn’t my fault, was the way I was treated post-addiction. I was isolated, punished, and judged by those who had written me off. Not having my son with me was the worst possible punishment, and it removed any motivation I had to be clean and sober. Worse than that, my son’s foster care officially started at a time when I was clean. I didn’t get here because of the support from others; I got here despite it. I am not and never will be a “grateful recovering addict”, unless I am grateful to myself, and to Megan whose return and daughter came at exactly the right moment to give me the motivation I needed to clean up for good.
I’m happy and all is well now, but it is difficult dealing with some people who act so very fucking supportive now, but who not long ago, tried any tactics they could to prevent me from being reunited with my son. It’s difficult not to be bitter when dealing with insincere, fake people. And it is ironic that those people still think that Megan was the biggest mistake of my life. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for her and I daughter, I might never have cleaned up. She has her problems, and I didn’t ever get to mend our broken relationship, despite trying for years, but she was far from the worst person in my life.
This wasn’t supposed to be negative. I am happy, and this year has been the best one for a while. Things will only get better. But it’s hard to look back without being amazed that I got here, because there really was a lot stacked against me.
I will not be mentioning my clean time anymore, except for each year on September fourth.