Drug Abuse Treatment Program

I spent 100 days at the drug abuse treatment program, but it seemed like an eternity at the time. Many of the clients were arrogant and wealthy, so between their snobbish attitudes and the proverbial “chip on my shoulder”, I found it difficult to make friends at first. First of all, it was hard for me to accept paying a whopping $35,000 for a drug abuse treatment program in California. The other clients thought so as well, but they behaved as if they were doing society a huge favor by finally admitting an addiction to drugs, alcohol and medications. The drug abuse treatment program comprised group therapy sessions, one-on-one counseling meetings, education curriculums, intense brain exercises, health and fitness programs, and much more.

Like every other group setting of intervention or rehabilitation, clients of the opposite sex couldn’t help but to become attracted to each other. I was on the verge of being separated from my wife of twelve years, so I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for me to get involved with a woman at the drug abuse treatment program. Through my association with a tall, attractive woman I’ll refer to as Kate, I somehow connected with an adolescent girl from Seattle. Eventually, the clients and I became somewhat of a dysfunctional family, but I have to be honest—I find it difficult to go out of my way to visit or contact many of them since I left the drug abuse treatment program. Anyway, this young girl was pretty and obviously read plenty of books—she was well-versed in poetry by Dylan Thomas. It had to be a sunny day in the last month I was there, but this girl became so frightened one day after one of our stimulating group therapy sessions that she jumped onto the street from a one story window and raced down the street leaving all her belongings behind. I don’t know who financed her stay at the drug abuse treatment program, but someone ultimately cried as $35,000 went right out the door.

Kate and I became somewhat of an unofficial item at the drug abuse treatment program. We spent plenty of time walking along the beach, sharing stories about our friends and family, finding ways to sneak away from the various therapy sessions, and of course arguing over anything under the sun when we experienced mood swings due to detoxification, rehabilitation and consistent pressure from our different staff counselors. Kate seemed more like a den mother (she was 35-years-old at the time) than a recovering addict at times, as the young ladies always seemed to follow her around. This was quite disconcerting to me because I was a loner at the drug abuse treatment program—although my friendship with the other clients was a gradual progress. Yet, during our free time, I only wanted to be with Kate. Anyway, another young lady from New Jersey—with a bigger chip on her shoulder than I had—attempted to run away from the drug abuse treatment program about three times during my stay. Kate and I couldn’t understand why she would run away and get caught always within three to four hours. It was almost like she wanted to get captured. Well, the staff at the drug abuse treatment program wanted to make an example of her by punishing her with cleaning detail. The young lady from New Jersey found it difficult to adapt to the group sessions, one-on-one counseling, brain exercises and anything that required an authority figure. She had a terrible attitude and still struggled with drug use.

During my free time when I wasn’t alone with Kate on the beach, I’d go fishing with two or three of the guys at the drug abuse treatment program. They weren’t bad at all, but I couldn’t help but think of all the times I enjoyed being with Kate. We fought an awful lot, but it was almost like we couldn’t function for more than a few hours without the other. At the drug abuse treatment program, they actually employed real chefs to cook delicious meals that benefited our diet and health. Although I consumed lobster, prime rib, baked ziti and iced tea at times, my diet consisted mostly of broiled fish, steamed vegetables, fresh fruit, water and green salads. Due to my fifteen years as a drug abuser, I forget many things and it doesn’t help that I am now middle-aged. I don’t remember the name of the brain exercises we used at the drug abuse treatment program, but as I mentioned before—they were intense. The purpose of these exercises was for us to find ways to keep our minds on positive motives to refrain from going back to drugs, alcohol and non-prescribed medication.

Frankly, I feel that my stay at the drug abuse treatment program was worth the $35,000 paid upfront—I guess, who knows—but I can’t help to think that it resembled my idea of what it would be like in jail. Instead of policemen grilling me under hot, blinding lights like they do in the movies, I endured drilling exercises and rehabilitation from smiling, patient counselors that wouldn’t give it a second thought to give us the third degree if we got out of line. I don’t like to admit it at times, but addicts at the drug abuse treatment program are basically sick and twisted. We are somewhat above average in intelligence due to the fact we conceal what we are taking and get away with it most of the time. However, there were some of us that had to be locked in tiny rooms without windows for a week because of withdrawal symptoms. The only contact for some clients at a drug abuse treatment program is with fussy nurses with fat ankles and squeaky white shoes. The drug abuse program I attended was sumptuous, clean and first-class, but there’s still room for improvement for many locations in the US due to lack of insurance coverage.