BY BRIAN BROOME
April 12, 2018
Rehab can be a frightening place when you first arrive. With any luck, you’ve already had some sort of ‘Come to Jesus’ moment with yourself and you’ve realized that you need to be there or else you’re going to die. I had had no such moment and was fully convinced that this was all a big mistake. Once I got through the door into the facility, I heard it lock electronically with a loud buzz and a finality that shook my bones. I immediately regretted it. There is no lonelier feeling on this Earth than sitting there, abandoned and broken. You’ve burned all your bridges on the outside and your life feels as though it’s half a world away. This is the moment when you really need a guy like Matt to walk up to you, thrust out his hand and say, “Hi! I’m Matt! What’s your name?”
Over the next few weeks, he and I attended group therapy sessions together and stayed up late talking about our problems, our addictions and our families. We ugly cried in front of each other as we shared our darkest secrets, what we had done for drugs and how deeply unhappy we were. Matt is a man who, in many ways, helped me to take my recovery seriously in rehab and, in the first few weeks after my release, he helped me to remain sober on the outside.
READ ENTIRE ARTICLE AT:
https://projects.publicsource.org/pittsburgh-opioid-epidemic/in-the-hypocrisy-of-the-opioid-epidemic-white-means-victim-black-means-addict.html
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