Dying to Survive (22 page)

_____

And so, back into the group for another session. This time the focus was on Sam. ‘How’s the head today, Sam?’ Ultan asked him.

‘Ah, I’m still the same. I just can’t stop gambling.’

I didn’t know what he was talking about. How could he still be gambling in here? I wondered.

‘I’m gambling on stupid things,’ Sam continued, ‘and the more I try to stop, the more I keep on doing it.’

‘What are you gambling on?’

‘Stupid things, like who’s going to sit in what chair first. It’s mad. If I was left on my own with a fucking fly, I’d somehow find a way to gamble on it.’

‘What’s the pay-off if you win the bet in your head?’ asked Ultan.

‘I feel good.’

‘And what if you lose?’

‘I feel bad. But it’s just anything that will take me away from how I’m really feeling.’ Now I knew what Sam meant. Once he was living in his head, he never had to really
feel
anything.

‘What do you do with these thoughts?’ Ultan probed.

‘I don’t know. Nothing really,’ Sam replied.

‘Well I’d suggest that when you get these thoughts in your head, you go and tell somebody,’ said Ultan. ‘If you don’t, they will only manifest themselves as actions. At least if you tell someone, you might see them more for what they are. And I would say that for anyone here who is having obsessive thoughts: you go and tell somebody.’ Everyone nodded compliantly. There was that old language again. ‘Manifestation of thoughts’, ‘obsessions’, ‘feelings’. It was like a secret language used only by people who were in recovery. It wasn’t a language that you would use with normal civilians. They would think you were mad and they would probably run a mile.

‘Ok, Sam, thanks for being so honest,’ said Ultan. A silence fell over the group room and I kept my eyes firmly on the ground, hoping they wouldn’t ask me anything. As if reading my mind, Ann addressed me: ‘Rachael, how are you getting on so far?’

‘Emm, I’m settling in really well, but I’m still a bit afraid about opening up to the group.’

‘Have you ever done a First Step?’ Ann asked.

‘Yeah, I did one the last time that I was here, but to be honest I made a bit of a gangster movie out of the whole thing.’ I had made my life sound like something from
The Godfather
, rather than focusing on the truth of my addiction.

‘Ok, you can start the First Step today. You know you can never write too much on this, so don’t hold back.’ The First Step came to light from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, where the steps towards recovery were written down. The First Step read: ‘We admitted that we were powerless over our alcoholism and our lives had become unmanageable.’ To complete the First Step in the Rutland we had to write answers to a series of questions that were designed for us to recognise how our addiction worked. The questions were searching and difficult and I knew that when I read out my First Step, my darkest secrets would be revealed to the group. I was dreading it, but I knew that it had to be done.

That evening I got started. I sat in the ballroom with one of the new guys, Chris. It was his first time in treatment and we clicked with each other straight away. He was to become one of my most trusted friends. I was already struggling to write, so I decided to take a break. I was sitting in the conservatory and I noticed that Timmy was hovering by the door.

‘Are you alright, Timmy? You don’t look the best.’

‘Not really,’ he admitted, his head held low. ‘I’ve to read out my First Step tomorrow and I’m really afraid that everyone’s going to judge me. I’m afraid that
you’re
going to judge me.’

‘Timmy, believe me, I’m no-one to judge
you
. Wait till you hear my First Step, you’ll know what I mean then. Don’t worry about it. Sure you’ll probably never see half of these people again. You’re doing this for yourself, aren’t you?’ The purpose of the First Step was not to embarrass you in front of group, but to face some tough truths about your addiction.

‘Yes I am. But I’ve done some really bad stuff.’ I knew that Timmy had problems. He had been heavily confronted earlier in group because he had blatantly refused to make breakfast for the staff and the clients. He had stomped his feet and stormed out of the kitchen, without giving an explanation as to why he wouldn’t do his chore. Eventually the truth came out that Timmy had serious issues with authority figures. He didn’t like being told what to do. Seemingly he was still haunted by memories of being in the army.

No amount of assurance that I gave Timmy could ease his worries. I couldn’t be
that
bad, I thought. Anyway, I had enough on my own plate. I was missing Big Mick badly. I had heard that he had got out of hospital and was recovering really well. He had tried to make contact with me in the Rutland, but I just wasn’t ready to speak to him yet.

After telling the group about our relationship, the counsellors suggested that Big Mick come up for Concerned Persons day. Big Mick knew me inside-out and the thought of him confronting me scared me half to death. But I agreed to do it anyway. It was arranged for Big Mick to be my first
CP
.

When the day arrived, I was really nervous about seeing Big Mick. He was a former client of the Rutland and he knew exactly how the groups worked. There wouldn’t be any chance of him holding back on information.

I caught a glimpse of his tall frame and his green Gortex jacket. As usual, Big Mick had a cup of coffee in one hand and a Dunhill Light in the other. As soon as the prep group was over, I walked over to where he stood. He held his arms out to embrace me. That old familiar smell of Eternity for Men was there and I just wanted to stay there for ever. But I knew in my heart that there was no going back for myself and Big Mick.

‘You’re very welcome, Michael,’ Ann opened the session. ‘Would you like to tell us a little bit about Rachael and her addiction?’

‘Well,’ Mick began, ‘I have always tried to be there for Rachael throughout her addiction. But I’ve always felt that Rachael’s real problems lay with the relationship, or lack of relationship, with her mother and her father. Her grandmother has always been there, but I don’t think that was ever enough for Rachael. It’s as though she has always tried to replace those relationships with the drugs.’

Mick knew all the right things to say, I thought, but then he dropped the bombshell. ‘And if I’m to be entirely honest, she did it with the prostitution as well.’ I had told Mick all about my life on Baggot Street, all the horrible details. But I couldn’t believe he was now telling everyone else. I could feel myself going red. I hadn’t had the chance to tell the group about the prostitution yet. I was planning on doing that in my First Step. Mick continued, ‘I have always seen potential in Rachael and it was frustrating knowing what she was doing and not being able to help her. But I didn’t take it personally because I understand myself what it’s like.’

‘Yourself and Rachael were in a relationship together, right?’ said Ann.

‘Yeah, we’ve been together over the last two years. She was doing so well in the beginning, but then she went off the rails again. It broke my heart. You know how much I love you, don’t you?’ he said, looking right into my eyes. ‘I would’ve married you, but you kept on saying that you were too dependent on me. I was so angry with you when you used and it killed me to see you so upset all the time. But I tried my best. I really did. I never meant for things to turn out the way they did. I’m really sorry.’

What was
he
sorry for? He’d done nothing wrong. I felt like crying. I genuinely loved Big Mick, but in all the wrong ways. He was more like a father figure to me.

‘Do you think Rachael used you?’ asked Ultan.

Big Mick had to think about that one. ‘I don’t know if “used” is the right word. She leaned on me and
I
let her. But yeah, I think that she was with me for the wrong reasons.’

‘And how does that feel?’

‘I don’t think she meant to hurt me. She didn’t go out of her way to use me,’ Mick explained.

‘Be honest, Michael,’ urged Ultan.

‘Ok, I was really hurt knowing that Rachael was with me for all the wrong reasons. But I hoped that she would eventually grow to love me. It hurt that I was never enough.’

Jesus, I was such a little bitch. I had thought about nothing but myself. I had expected Big Mick’s life to revolve around mine and I never really thought about how I might be affecting him. I was shocked when he relapsed, but it wasn’t until then that I realised what I was doing to him. That was all Big Mick had to say. But I knew that the group would get stuck into me later on. That was how it worked.

That day I felt sad saying goodbye to Big Mick. He told me that he and the little house in the country were missing me and that I was always welcome back. ‘Co-dependency and all,’ he said, always being the joker.

_____

The intense group therapy and the constant activity was really knocking me for six. I wasn’t used to a routine and I seemed to be permanently tired. But for the first time in ages I was getting a decent night’s sleep. Those negative spiritual attachments seemed to have disappeared and my head was beginning to slow down. I had peace at last. I realised that the mistake I had made the last time with the prayer and meditation was that I had brought it to the extreme: I had turned the prayers into an obsessive chant which really disturbed my mind. I had become as hooked on prayer as I had been on heroin. But it was important for me to pray and meditate. I just had to find a balance. And I also had to find a quiet place to do it. I was too paranoid to pray in my bedroom in case somebody would walk in and catch me. Then they would definitely think that I was mad. So I decided to go into the bathroom.

Just as I was drifting off to the sound of my own mantra, the bathroom door swung open. ‘Oh, Jaysus, I’m sorry,’ said this young girl whose face was really familiar. I knew her well, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember how.

‘Rachael?’ she said, as I quickly jumped to my feet.

‘Where do I know you from?’ I asked her, red in the face.

‘D’ye not remember me? Jessica! We lived in a squat together out in Ballymun.’ Now I remembered. But Jessica looked so different. She had obviously taken a beating from the heroin, but she was still very pretty. She was a tiny little thing, with a long plum-coloured bob. She was chatty, straightforward and full of nervous energy. We were going to share a room together, she said. I wasn’t sure if this would be a good thing or a bad thing. Only time would tell.

_____

Today I could relax because all I had to do was listen to Timmy read out his First Step, the one that had caused him so much difficulty. The famous box of tissues was placed on the floor in the middle of the circle. Timmy sat in his chair, stiffly holding his A4 pages, as the group took turns to smile at him in encouragement.

‘Ok, Timmy, you can start reading out your step,’ said Ann. Timmy began to give the group different examples of how he had experienced being powerless over his addiction. He spoke of the time when he drank alcohol against his own will, and the hurt that he caused his family. He told us how his alcoholism had progressed from an early age and how it had got worse when he had left the army. To me it was all very normal stuff for someone who was an alcoholic and I wondered why Timmy had been so afraid to read it out. Within a very short space of time, Timmy was finished reading out his First Step, but I just knew that he wasn’t being completely honest. You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.

‘Timmy, you’ve skipped some questions,’ said Ultan.

Beads of sweat were trickling down Timmy’s forehead. ‘Oh, I know. I got stuck on that question about how my addiction manifests itself. I didn’t really understand it.’

‘It means in what areas does your addiction go? When is it most visible and how?’ There was a long pause. ‘Why do you think you started drinking in the first place, Timmy?’ Ultan asked. ‘What were you running from?’

Everyone looked at Timmy. He was wiping invisible fluff off his trousers. ‘I don’t know. Myself maybe.’

‘What’s so bad about Timmy that he has to run from himself?’ Ultan continued.

Timmy leaned his head on his hand. ‘I just can’t stand myself, Ultan.’

‘Why, Timmy?’ Another long pause. ‘Because I was abused, that’s why. And now I’ve become the abuser.’ Everyone’s eyes were shifting from one person to the other. And I was beginning to feel really uncomfortable.

‘How d’you mean you’ve become the abuser?’ Ultan was homing in on Timmy now. He was sitting on the edge of his chair with his head held low, as though he was trying to get down to Timmy’s level.

‘I have become an abuser. Things got so bad that I began to flash at women.’ All the eyes were shifting around the room again.

Ultan didn’t seem fazed. ‘Do you want to talk about this, Timmy?’

Timmy cupped his face in his hands. ‘No, I can’t, I can’t,’ he said. ‘I feel so ashamed.’

‘Can you describe the shame, Timmy?’

Ah, Ultan, will you just stop, I screamed at him in my head. Now Timmy was tearing at his face and he was no longer with us in the group room. He seemed to be gone somewhere else in his mind. ‘I know what it’s like to be abused and it’s not fucking nice. How could I do that to those women?’

‘How did it make you feel at the time, Timmy?’

‘I felt powerful and ashamed at the same time, but then I just felt empty. I can feel it everywhere.’ Timmy was tearing at his arms now and his face was distorted.

I couldn’t listen to this any more. I was on the verge of bolting out the door. I felt nauseous and I wanted to vomit. Memories of my own sexual deviances came rushing to the front of my mind: the dark lanes of Baggot Street, the dirty perverted men, desperately trying to fill themselves up at any cost. The seediness of it all. The devastation of giving that part of myself away, just for a bag of heroin. And the emptiness. Yes, I knew that feeling only too well. That big sore hole right in the middle of my chest that nothing could fill and the loneliness that no man or woman could take away. ‘Fuck you anyway, Timmy,’ I wanted to lash out at him. To me, he represented all those men to whom I had given my power. The group room was beginning to spin and I was finding it harder to breathe. Timmy was sobbing uncontrollably. Ultan stopped provoking him and he allowed him to cry.