Success in addiction and Recovering from addiction can have its ups and downs.
But success in addiction recovery means things inevitably start working out. Like for J.D. This past week, he’s come to the end of his three-month contract at work. And they called him in for a meeting about his future there…
Last week was a good week. A very good week. It went to show how far I’d come since I’ve cleaned up from drugs. It shows how I’ve achieved success in addiction recovery. What happened? Well…
Success in addiction recovery: a step up the ladder.
I was called into a meeting with the bosses at the social media agency I work at. I was nervous. I’m coming up to the end of my three-month contract at my new job. Would they keep me on? Or would they let me go? I was about to find out.
I was in the office with the one Partner. The other Partner walked in with a bunch of plastic bags. She’d just been out to get lunch. She said, “You’re coming up to the end of your contract. We want to have to chat to you about that. I just have to put some things down.”
As she left the room, I turned to the other Partner. I wondered what she meant. Provisions? Lowering my salary because I wasn’t good enough? If I wanted to stay on, would there be restrictions? I should have realised that success in addiction recovery means that, actually, things tend to go your way.
“What does she mean, put things down? Like what? What kind of things?” I asked him in mild panic.
He laughed at me. “I think she means, putting down the things she’s carrying.”
“Oh. Ha. Hahaha. Hahahahaha.” I kept laughing nervously. It was funny. I was a dufus.
She came back in. “We want you to stay, on a permanent basis. We’re really happy with you.”
Success in addiction recovery: managing anxiety without drugs or alcohol.
It’s taken a lot to have success in addiction recovery. I owe Houghton House for that. Coping with anxiety in the work place has been difficult. Sure, my bipolar medication helps a lot. It manages the extreme emotions I often feel. But so does my therapist, one of Houghton’s own from their team of excellent counsellors. She’s taught me coping mechanisms, and acts as a safe place once a week during the maelstrom of the outside world.
Coping is important. There can be nastiness in any workplace. Politics, the wrestling for power over others. Short-temperedness, the intolerance for those who may be under intense workloads. Or even gossip, people hearing another conversation, then tip-tapping on their phones to communicate with their office friend over Whatsapp.
I think I’m paranoid. Still.
I got a new computer. Plugged in an old mouse. Remembered, holy moly*, that was the same mouse we used on our horribly infected by dangerous rootkit (like a computer virus, but much, much worse) laptop that caused me to scrapheap the entire thing. (I used the royal we, there, by the way, because when I’m thinking to myself, well, there are many of us. In my head. There’s like a Senate. I may live alone, but I am never lonely.)
“No! Noooo! Nooooo!”
That’s not me, by the way. That’s my therapist shouting “no!”, as she steels herself to handle another six months of extreme paranoia around infections that are impossible to get rid of. Like syphilis, but if syphilis was sentient, and wanted complete and utter destruction of everything on the entire planet.
Oh well. At least we have company.
It might well be another six months of intensive therapy for paranoia that boggles the mind. But, like that post I did way back in the day about my sister’s diagnosis of cancer, at least somebody is listening.
(Not watching. I have taped over my laptop’s webcam. With black tape. Made blacker by really black paint. So no one can see through. Savvy?)
The guys at work like me despite me going on about the virus (actually a rootkit) that won’t leave me alone. It could be worse there could be no success in addiction?
I could be rocking up to work everyday smelling like a distillery. Like I used to. Or sniffing constantly. Because of a cold – in winter. Or because of hay fever (in summer). Like I used to. I could be constantly going to the bathroom. Mysteriously hyper after that. Like I used to. I could be constantly checking my nose using my phone’s selfie camera, fearing large lumps of white in my nostrils. Like I used to. Or having white snot drip out my nose. Like I used to. Or being dangerously thin, for no reasonable explanation. Like I used to be.
But I’m not.
I’m okay. I’m stressed; I think I might have an immortal rootkit that won’t die on my laptop; I’m still battling to deal with being around lots of people in confined spaces for long periods of time.
But I’m okay.
Thanks to Houghton House.
And how they helped me be a success in addiction recovery.