It was September 15, 2023. Things were looking up. I had my lights and water turned back on. I had a new job beginning in three days. I had a ride to and from work. All I had to do now was to stay sober.
It wasn’t so much the physical part that concerned me. That was concerning, yes, but it was mainly the mental part. I was worried about what would happen if I fell asleep and missed showing up to work. I was worried about everyone looking at me and thinking I was a drug addict. I was worried about how people would judge me. I had just lost a business, and I was ashamed to talk to my parents. I was feeling defeated before I had even started. I put all those thoughts aside and worked on getting better. I spent the weekend sleeping, praying, and just trying to prepare myself for the worst.
Monday came, and it was time for me to go to work. The world didn’t collapse. No one treated me poorly. No one judged me. Everyone seemed very eager for me to succeed. I had a renewed sense of who I was, and I started to tell myself that I could do this. The large work environment helped me a lot. I didn’t feel like people were looking at me under a microscope. I felt like I could just do my work, get lost in the crowd, and go home.
It was hard over the first month at my new job. I was tired a lot. I lived on energy drinks and cigarettes. They had a food program there in the break room, so I didn’t have to spend any money for lunch. I went home each day feeling really exhausted. I was doing personal shopping for Walmart, and in that role, you had to walk anywhere from 16,000 to 26,000 steps a day. Some days I would get home and just pass out. Those were the easy days. The hard days were when I would get home and couldn’t sleep. I would cry all night because I thought I would sleep through work the next day. I would sweat and shake. I would scream into my pillow until my voice would give out. I would curse God and everyone on this earth. I would harbor hate in my heart with all the violence and malice I could muster. I would wish bad things on everyone I would meet. I would be rude to people. I would envy what they had, who they were, and their lives. I wanted someone to fall as hard as I did. I wanted someone to hurt like me. I wanted someone to see my soul. I wanted someone to see me and to make it better. I wanted someone to tell me it was all going to be alright and worth it. I wanted the reassurance that I wouldn’t fall again. I wanted a friend. I needed to trust me again.
After the first month, things got easier. I was still really defensive, and I was sure that everything I started to rebuild would fall apart at any second. One day at work, somebody told me that I was shaking. Instead of being sure of who I was and letting this go, I took it as an attack. I took it as an attack on me as a person. I felt like they were calling me weak. They had no clue of who I was, what I had been through, and what I was trying to accomplish. How could they? I still took it as judgment on my life instead of a passing stranger’s own insecurities or bad day. Instead of letting it bother me, I decided to do something about my “weakness” and fear. I started doing yoga and working out every morning before work. I didn’t do anything crazy or for any great length of time. I started out at five minutes a day. Then went to ten. Then to 15, and on and on. I started feeling better and started gaining confidence again. I started showing up for myself every morning. I started to believe me again. I started to trust my word and work again. I also built in a day to rest. That way, if I missed a day that week, I would keep going. I would not count the day as lost, but as rest. If I missed one day, that didn’t mean I was a failure and all my progress was reset; no, that meant that I had worked 6 days and that foundation would be there waiting for me when I got back.
I decided that since I had already come this far, I should go the rest of the way and quit smoking as well. I had discovered vapes and had all but quit smoking cigarettes, except for on my way to work. I was still getting a ride from a friend at this time, and they smoked. I remembered my dad telling me a story when I was a kid. He told me, “When I wanted to get you off the bottle, all I did was tell you to throw it away in the garbage and that it wasn’t an option anymore.” I then took it and put it in the trash. He said that I never asked for it again. I decided to quit smoking using the same approach. The vape I was using ran out, and I threw the cigarettes my friend had given me in the trash, and that would be that. I told my friend about it the next morning on the way to work, and I guess he interpreted it to mean that I couldn’t afford another vape. They stopped on the way to work to get some gas and also bought me a vape. I told them that was not what I meant for them to do, and they told me to hush and be happy. I got out of the car at work, thanked them for the vape and the ride, and watched them drive off. I was smiling, thinking about how kind they were to take me to work and to be looking after my happiness. I took a long hit off the vape, exhaled, walked towards the front doors, tossed the vape in the trash on the way in, and never looked back.