My Treatment Experience

I entered MCDC on November 22 and was released on January 4th. Here's how the end of 2009 played out for me: Friday the 13th birthday in detox; Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's in treatment. I cannot for the life of me summon up any sadness for these events. I was right where I was supposed to be, doing right what I was supposed to be doing. Of course, all the love that came my way didn't hurt a bit.



I would like to say that treatment was a totally positive experience, but I'm a little too honest for that. MCDC is a state-run facility and they're understaffed, underbudgeted and the overriding energy of the place is absolute chaos. Don't even ask me about the food; I was sure I was being poisoned at first. 3,000 calories a day and probably 80% of it carbohydrates. Don't even ask me about my weight upon release. My only other long-term treatment, in 1988, was a country club compared to MCDC.

Offsetting the general disorganization of the place was a group of counselors that are obviously committed to their jobs and have great passion for helping people find recovery.

I didn't sleep much at all for the first 12 nights I was in treatment. 2-3 hours a night was the max and I would awake in a complete state of panic, which I had actually been doing for a few months before going in. It's completely unnatural and very disconcerting to go from 0-100 in seconds and by the 13th day I really felt I was losing my mind. I had been hoping that my sleep would even out on its own, but it never did. I was finally, at threat of leaving, put on a medication that helps me sleep. Since I was informed that MCDC was a facility specializing in treating co-occurring disorders (that is mental health + addiction) I was somewhat disappointed that I had to go through such a horrible experience before receiving the help I so desperately needed. I went in knowing what my problems and issues were. I had been working in outpatient treatment for months trying to get them under control and yet I was treated just like a drug-seeking addict out only for the next good fix. I began to wonder if they knew anything at all about me, if they had even read my file or spoken with my addictions counselor in Polson. I still wonder it. Like I said, they're understaffed.


Once I began to sleep I was able to focus more on my treatment and one of the things I needed to work on most of all was my passivity. My passive behavior has gotten me into more trouble in the past few years than anything ever in my life. That, hand in hand with alcohol, led me to be jobless, homeless and at times in complete and utter despair. I was discouraged with the lack of counseling I was receiving, the lack of mental health assistance and the overall chaotic nature of the facility and its administrators. I also saw very clearly how some of the most manipulative patients were able to work the system to their favor and I don't mind telling you, it pissed me off. So I began to verbalize my complaints beginning with the fact that I didn't receive my first treatment plan for 2 1/2 weeks and had no scheduled appointments with counselors after the first week.

This action got me exactly nowhere except to almost leave without completing the program which would've jeopardized my chance to come to Homeward Bound, the halfway house for the homeless I'll be occupying for at least the next three months. But I didn't give in, break down or back down. I stood my ground, stayed firmly in my own truth and even though I had to stay a couple of extra days, I left with my certificate and I'm thinking a brand new backbone, which has been growing since the whole Sunrise Vista Inn incident last summer.


I went for an appointment at the Butte Chemical Dependency Center this morning, supposedly scheduled by MCDC before I left, and they had never heard of me. Like I said, they're underbudgeted.



I'm choosing my battles carefully these days and although I considered letters and grievances regarding MCDC, I've decided to let it go. I got what I needed there which was 43 days clean and sober and an opportunity to advocate for myself and the connection with Homeward Bound. It does concern me for other patients who may not be as assertive or determined as I was, but the fact is MCDC is one of the few treatment centers left in the country where you can get good long-term treatment for chemical dependency at little or no cost if need be. Most of us are being shuffled through short-term detox and right back onto the street as was even George McGovern's daughter, Terry, who subsequently died from her alcoholism. But that's another story for another day.

Tomorrow I will write about the foundation for my sobriety. And no, it's not powerlessness; at least not directly.

Butte, America

For someone who is going to live in a halfway house for the homeless I sure am excited. It's an odd thing to feel free of so much of that old energy that was keeping me down. While in treatment I was given a clear picture of how alcohol and drugs ensure that I will stay mired in old patterns that don't serve me or anyone. I won't entertain regret, but will keep company with the intense gratitude I feel for the love I have in my life, for 60 days of continuous sobriety and the inner knowing that I will take care of myself.

While in treatment I was asked what I would most like my family and those friends who have stuck by me through thick and thin to know about my alcohol and drug use. What I would like them to know is that it's not me. It's a disease, weakness, illness, malady, whatever you want to call it, over which I am powerless. However, I do have power over my recovery. I have the power to continue to seek those who understand and can help. I have the power to set an intention for myself and follow through on it. I have the power to let go of anything and everything that doesn't support my sobriety and to reach for those hands that do.

I am sorry I made such a big freakin' mess in the process. But, you know, life is messy and I truly believe we're all just doing the best we can until we can do better. I understand my job: Don't drink, seek support and give back; allow the universe to unfold through the awareness that keeps all of us breathing and the awareness that accompanies us when we're done breathing. Live in gratitude. Express love. Let go of judgement of yourself or anyone else. Forgive.

Look out Butte, America. Angela is on her way.

Where is Home?

I completed 43 days of treatment and I am sober. They don't play around at MCDC and it was a difficult experience, one I'm still processing. Many times I disagreed with their tactics and I almost left twice feeling that I wasn't getting the treatment I needed. But it is slowly dawning on me that in that very short period of time I became a much stronger person. I found my center and they helped me find it. Special thanks to my team: Peggy, Richard, Sharon and Vicky. These people are making a difference in the world in a field that is fraught with failure, disappointment and heartache. And they keep doing it, day after day. They continue to learn about the disease, to try new things to help those of us who have it and to love each and every one of their patients. It's a tough love sometimes; it's a good love all the time.

The love and support I received from my blogging community was incredible. Many of you wrote and sent beautiful packages that encouraged me to continue when I felt like quitting. It was pure magic to receive these gifts of the heart. The only way I can thank any of you enough is to stay sober and begin to make my own difference in the world, in honor of each and every one of you: my friends.

I've decided to return to Butte to a halfway house. I will stay there at least three months. It's bittersweet - leaving this little town I've called home for 7 years. I love this place. I believe the lake and the mountains kept me alive, not to mention the incredible friends and teachers I've had here: Claudia, Julie, Roberta, Ben, Marsha, Teresa, Heather. People who kept believing in me despite evidence that maybe I wasn't going to make it after all.

Of course, my family has been with me through this whole painful and rocky trip. No kidding. I have the best family in the entire world.

I'm pretty sure I won't stay in Butte any longer than I have to in order to re-structure my life and financial situation - 6-9 months I figure. I don't know where I'll land. Where will home be? Will I come back to Polson? Opt for Missoula? Will I be called back to Georgia for a time? It doesn't distress me at all. Because I finally know where home is. It's in my heart and it goes with me everywhere.

Magic

This is my treatment altar. Every piece on this altar has deeply personal meaning, from the










three sisters figure to the driftwood that represents my Uncle Ronald, who died 10 years ago this Thanksgiving. Ronald dealt with a lot of the same things I do, but he couldn't see a way out.





My great-grandmother's linen hankie and pieces from my folks and sisters complete the offering to the ancestors, both living and dead.


My homies from Georgia are represented: Celeste, Wendy, Joni, Melinda and Steve. Pam House.


The people I know from Montana, friends both past and present are represented. Claudia, Julie, Jan, Ben, Shawn, Marsha, Barbara, Bill, Robert, Roberta, Lynn, Bob Mc., Phyllis, Judith, Karen, Bobbi, Peggy, Tracy, Brent.


My power animal - a giant midnight panther with vivid green eyes is represented. He comes to me in the night and assures me that all is well; all is as it should be; all is actually quite perfect.



My very best blogging friends are represented: Olivia, Chani, Mary Louise, VR, Anybeth, Julie, Gabriella, Dorothy, AngelP. (See side bar for links)

My LSR friends.


I could write an entire very long post (and I tried to) about the astrology we're experiencing. Strong personally for me. Strong collectively for us as a society. But, nobody does it like Eric Frances and his excellent team at Planet Waves so if you're interested, visit him there.


My tarot cards have been freaky in their accuracy. I read several people's cards in detox and they were all pretty surprised with how well they fit their circumstances. I just do either a five card spread on a situation or a 3 Major, 5 Minor spread. I find it much more effective than some of the longer spreads.



I'm leaving for the Montana Chemical Dependency Center in Butte, MT, USA at 9 am sharp. The rest of the evening for me is about self-care, ritual, prayer and connection. Packing, cleaning and last-minute phone calls. I feel pretty overwhelmed but I know I'm going to a good place and I believe they can help me get over the experiences of the past few year and provide a good foundation for the sobriety to follow. I know without a doubt this is what I need to do and I'm ready and I'm taking lots of love and support with me. Good ancestry. Good friends.



The address where I will be is: MCDC, 2500 Continental Drive, Butte, MT 59701 Attn: Angela Nolan. I would appreciate any communication by mail, especially as I am going to be there through the holidays.

I love you all.

History - Part 1

The story I am here to tell won't make much sense without a litte history, so here's installment #1. These will be very shortened versions because if there's anything I hate it's a blog post that takes me more than 5 minutes to read. I grew up in a small town in Georgia, a few miles from Atlanta, the eldest daughter of three girls. Born in November of 1961, I barely missed the 60's generation and have always been just a little pissed off about that. There was nothing unusual about my childhood. I was cared for, loved and part of a normal, happy, if slightly dysfunctional, middle-class family. At the age of 13, my relationship with my mother became somewhat complicated (yeah, yeah, I know, who's didn't?) and I began to act out with drugs. I started smoking pot and doing some drinking, but I still had lots of other interests that meant a lot more to me than any of that stuff. My parents caught me smoking pot early on and I put it all away for awhile. I picked it back up my senior year in high school and by then it seemed that alcohol and drugs were a way for me to assert my independence, unfortunately having not found healther venues. At 18 years of age, I married a sweet boy and moved to California for two years - a couple of years I remember as mostly happy, carefree and fun. We did a lot of partying, were very much in love and were pretty much clueless about what real life entailed. When his time in the Navy was up we moved back to Georgia and I quickly decided that I was way too young for this married life. At the ripe old age of 20, I was a new divorcee', back in an element where I was comfortable and ready to get on with having some serious fun. Enter a man I will call Sean for this story. Sean was/is 16 years my senior and he was a drug dealer at the time, dealing in cocaine. Unfortunately for us, Sean fell crazy in love with me and I feel crazy in love with his drugs. I'm not sure how I made it through the next 8 years, but I'm sitting here writing about it now, so I guess I did. These years were spent snorting, drinking and running the streets. I did manage to stay employed and take care of myself most of the time, but needless to say, it took a lot out of me. I would go weeks with little sleep, little food and lots of drugs and alcohol. The toll on my health was tremendous and after a few years of this I began to be sick a lot. Strep throat I had several times, bad flu's, long cold's - immune system stuff. I was sick so much I quit my job and went to work in my mother's flower shop. After a particularly nasty binge which lasted a couple of weeks, and in a state of complete exhaustion and guilt, I confessed to my parent's what I had been up to. The next night I went to my first 12-step meeting. It was a Cocaine Anonymous meeting and I met people there that I am still friends with today. I celebrated my first 30 days clean with a nice pitcher of magaritas. It's 1986 now, and the next two years were spent in going to meetings, staying clean and sober for awhile and then relapsing. I began to feel that something really must be wrong with me, as other people seemed to find a "home" in the 12-step rooms, and while my intentions were good, it just wouldn't seem to stick on me. Everyone was entering "spa" treatment programs then and I decided this was what I needed. In July of 1988 I attended a 30-day inpatient treatment program and began a period of sobriety that would last six years. I fully immersed myself in AA culture and belief and it worked - for awhile.