And here we are...

I went to detox, frail, cold, but with a lot of hope. From throwing up for twenty four hours I truly understood the velocity and stronghold my addiction has on me physically, but those nights spent mentally battling it were much worse. The nurses ignored my pleas of help when I had vomit on the ground, in my hair, and just about everywhere but I held through. I got out and relapsed. I went to outpatient but upon some people seeing me taking my prescription anxiety meds during the group break, they told me I had to go to inpatient. I didn't want to go so Dad called the cops saying I was suicidal and they hospitalized me, I agreed to go to inpatient. But, not Lakeside. I would never have agreed had I known it would be like that. Two physical fights and some other harassment caused me to run away from Lakeside, not once but twice. The first time I'm amazed that I actually was stupid enough to go back. I'm out and couch hopping. All these events have just aided my instability directing me back to the needle. I have failed, and am now somewhere I don't want to be, but try try again.