My name is Victor, and I’m an addict.
In August 2006, I left a psychiatric institution where I had been deemed a danger to myself after my fourth near-fatal drug overdose. My wife drove me directly to Harmony Recovery in Estes Park. As I sat outside before my admission, things became crystal clear to me. I acknowledged to my innermost self that every action and decision I had made over the previous 16 years had led me to a place of utter devastation, failure, and shame. I was face-to-face with death. I realized that if I continued down the path I had been traveling, death would soon be the inevitable conclusion.
Obtaining and using drugs dominated much of my waking thoughts, energy, and effort. Along the way, my moral compass had deteriorated, and I was doing things I never imagined possible. I was entirely out of options and needed help that I could not provide for myself. I have learned that self cannot rid self of self by self. I didn’t know then that what had begun was a journey that would enable me not only to physically survive, but also to live a life that far exceeded anything I thought possible.
In group sessions, I was able, for the first time, to see similarities between my own thoughts and those of other addicts, dispelling the idea that I was terminally and fearfully unique. The denial, rationalization, and justification of my warped thoughts and actions slowly began to fall away as I was exposed to healthier thought processes and habits.
Counselors who had begun the recovery process before me showed me, by example, that hope existed and that there was a way out of the hole I had dug for myself. I was able to internalize that hope. The staff and many of the clients showed vulnerability by sharing their personal stories. As a result, I felt safe enough to bring to light secrets and feelings that I never thought I would share. The freedom that came from doing so was liberating. I learned that holding on to secrets was where much of my sickness lived.
After a few weeks, as my mind began to clear, I came to the undeniable acknowledgment that I was powerless over my addiction and that my life had become unmanageable. Prior to that point, I had no intention of stopping my drug use, manipulation, or gross dishonesty as long as I continued to get my way and find refuge in hiding and numbing myself. It was then that the idea of hope in recovery began to take root in my mind. I was introduced to the life-changing idea that recovery could be accomplished through a belief in something greater than myself. Attempting to align myself with this Power’s will could guide me into a life no longer dictated by self-centered and fear-driven motives. Initially, I viewed this Power as G.O.D.—Gift of Desperation.
As my return to the “real world” approached, I was able to internalize the idea that it was possible to live drug-free. I was no longer bound by distorted thinking and the skewed perceptions that followed. For the first time, I acknowledged that I was not terminally unique, grossly misunderstood, or terrifyingly alone.
Life after Harmony has not always been easy. There have been times of great difficulty, compounded by mental health challenges. I have learned that I have choices and options other than what was once my only “solution.” I now know that my feelings cannot kill me and that they will pass—they always do. I also make it a point to let others know whenever I am hurting or scared. I was taught at Harmony that this is not a sign of weakness, but one of great strength.
When I was ready to leave, I did not feel overwhelmed by the fear of relapse because I had been given a clear set of instructions for moving forward in recovery. I knew that I could face whatever life handed me one day, one hour, one minute, and one moment at a time. Harmony gave me the opportunity to become an acceptable, responsible, and productive member of society.
– Victor R.