I have a confession to make. I don't believe that addiction is a disease. I think it is a symptom. It is the result of something else. Unhappiness, stress, disconnection, chemical or hormonal imbalances - a sort of silent trigger if you will.
This trigger leads to the body's recognition of those things and the reactive urge to jolt itself back into something closer to its natural equilibrium. Seratonin low? Guess what helps you release it fast? Drugs, of course. Quickly and efficiently, serotonin levels are up, and everything is ok (for now). The body always takes the path of least resistance (like a river), and because drugs or alcohol or food or sex or something else help release what it needs, that is the go-to from now on. The body needs to survive moment to moment, there is no big-picture hard wired into the human survival instinct.
I was told I have a disease, and I tried to believe it. The idea of talking about a disease I had made me want to KILL myself so I wouldn't have it anymore. But I was aware of my human survival instinct, and the fact that being in rehab is what you do when you are trying to stay alive. So I decided not to attend any 12 step meetings after a while. But the rest of the rehab program I figured I'd roll with it and see what happened. Here are some of the things I did that helped me change my life.
Establish a support system
My support system was really small at first, just my girlfriend, my brother, my sister-in-law, my boss at work, and my band mates. Eventually it grew, but that core group of people had my best interests in mind and never let me out of their sight. The faces in my support system have changed over the years, with the only constant being my girlfriend, who is now my wife. But that network of people has grown drastically, and now includes many friends, relatives, clients and coworkers, all of whom have my back and my best interests at heart.
Get professional help
A history of many failed attempts at kicking the habit made me realize that I needed a crutch, and I entered an opioid replacement therapy program. It was not the first time I had been in a program like this, but somebody told me once that every time you quit something, you get that much better at quitting - even if you are unsuccessful.
While I was in treatment, I had a few different counsellors. Some were good, some were not so good. One in particular was great. I would come in with some outlandish story or a problem, and she always found a way to make me realize how each element of what I was talking about could relate back to my motivation for getting clean and the color behind my urges to self-sabotage.
But even the not-so-great counsellors I had were helpful, even if the only purpose they served was to make me realize that I had to get a better counselor. Realizing something simple like that was proof that I wanted to fight for myself.
Cut off contact
My brother took my phone, because duh. All calls to my house were screened by my brother and sister-in-law, who I lived with. There are a lot of people who I never spoke to again after I got clean.
During the last year of my using drugs, I had accidentally become a drug dealer. I say accidentally because it was not a conscious decision. It was more like, "well since I'm headed to go get drugs, I might as well see if anybody needs anything while I'm there." After a while, I bought in bulk and kept some extra around that I sold for a small profit. It just made sense to make a little money. BTW, all of the money I made went back into drugs.
After I got my phone back, people would still call and ask for me, and I had to shut off my phone because of it. About a year into my treatment, one of my old junkie friends tried to reach out on MySpace, which was totally a narc move. I never responded.
Cut off cash flow
My girlfriend literally froze my check card in a plastic cup of water in her freezer. I also handed over any tips I got working at the coffee shop to her till we could go to the bank together and deposit them. Anything I needed to pay for was done with checks, which were kept under lock and key or by withdrawing money at the teller window.
Don't drive
I handed over the keys to my beloved Volvo, which was put up on blocks in the driveway of my brother's house. A few months later, I decided to sell it because I still didn't have a day free of cravings. After about a year, I got a bike to ride to and from work, with a check-in phone call as soon as I got there.
That craving-free day day became a reality 4 years later. I finally bought a car again, only to discover that I didn't like driving anymore!
Don't ever be alone
I was not a social drug user, and being alone was a trigger for me, so we decided that I should be alone as little as possible. It was probably over a year into the process the first time I was alone without one of the people in my support system.
The only exception to the rule was if I rode my bike to work. It made it pretty much impossible for me to get drugs if I had a moment of weakness. It was one of the more extreme precautions we took, but also very practical. To this day, it is hard for me to be alone.
Use small changes to cement big ones
My nutrition changes were gradual, but ended up being a big part of my recovery. It started with taking large doses of fish oil to help with brain function. My girlfriend knew a lot about supplements and suggested it. We figured it could help me resist cravings a little easier, by helping with mood regulation. My moods used to change so quickly it scared me, and I was constantly anxious. Fish oil helped, although it was not immediate or drastic.
Later on I started a multivitamin, and after that started cutting out refined sugar in my diet. Over time I went from eating sour gummy Jolly Ranchers / chocolate chip cookies with whipped cream / a big nasty gooey calzone everyday to eating 3 balanced meals and a few snacks, including vegetables.
My counselor advised me to avoid alcohol, which I did the entire 3 years I was in treatment.
Eventually I gave up cigarettes, because I needed the lung capacity for running a 5k races and recovering after heavy sets of weight lifting at the gym.
Get new surroundings
Less than a year after entering methadone treatment, I went from being a barista who played music in a punk band and lived in his brothers attic to a blacksmith who painted on the side and had art shows who lived with his girlfriend. It might not seem like much, but it took me one step further into my new life and away from my old one.
Reinvent yourself
Taking good care of myself became more and more of a habit that I decided I wanted to be around people who had the same values. I had learned so much about exercise that after a few years of living my new life, a natural next step was to become a personal trainer, which later turned into becoming a nutrition coach. I started using my writing skills to create educational content for my clients, and I started a blog. The other day I told someone about my past and the reaction was, "I never would have guessed that about you." Success.
Go public
The best way to make sure everyone is watching out for you is to ask them to. I have always let my employer know what I've been through, and asked them to help me stay clean. A few years ago, the local newspaper published a short piece on my recovery. Former addicts approach me and say things like "I could never be public about my past." Why not? Everyone has been touched by addiction, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. Why keep it a secret?
People sometimes say stupid things to me like, "I did mushrooms in college once" or, "Do you think weed is a drug?" But full disclosure has drawn everyone including coworkers and clients into my support system. Now I have my entire community holding me accountable.
Remember what's important
Each year near the anniversary of the day I got clean, I go to No Regrets Tattoo Emporium and add a tally mark to my left arm, the same arm that had been pocked with track marks, covered up with makeup from Walgreens. Every time I feel like using, I look at the tally mark tattoo on my arm and think how bad that would hurt to have to remove it, or have to explain to people what I'd lost.
I owe such a huge part of my success to the woman who has seen me at my worst, and still stuck with me. That woman is my wife, Elizabeth, and she is the best thing that ever happened to me. Every time I add to my tattoo, I think how grateful I am to have some of the most amazing people in the world in my corner. That tattoo might represent the years I've been clean, but it also shows how my support system has grown.
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