In March of 2013, I managed to acquire a handful of Xanax, Klonopin, and Lortab. I stretched the pills out over a few days, during which my mood improved just enough to reach out for help. I emailed Michael B., a close friend of mine who had recently become employed in the drug rehab industry; if anyone could help me find a free or cheap detox, it was him.
I was relieved to learn a few days later that Michael had been talking to family members about getting me some help. An immense weight lifted from my shoulders as something other than another suicide attempt seemed possible in the foreseeable future. He mentioned Discovery Place and gave me the phone number to Admissions, which I was instructed to call as soon as possible. And I did.
April 6, 2013 was the day things started to change. I knew I’d be admitted that afternoon at Discovery Place for what would be my fifth stint in drug rehab, and I had saved a single serving as an eye-opener: an airplane bottle of Fireball Cinnamon Whisky. We had a family meeting later in the morning. Although I was greatly relieved in knowing I was about to get help (yet again), these family meetings by nature are not pleasant, so I remain grateful to my friend Michael for facilitating it.