So far, we've been following Gary Thompson's journey to kick his addiction.  We heard his conversation with the intake therapist at Sunnyview Rehabilitation Center.  The struggle within him raged as he decided whether to take the offer for treatment. 
 
We were introduced to his mother, Mary, and shared her fears for her only son's destructive behavior.  We learned she prayed fervently and constantly for his recovery.  His phone call to her about entering rehab was met with tears of relief.
 
And last, we were with Gary, he was beginning to digest the dual diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Bi Polar.  As we rejoin the story, Gary reflects on the words of the psychiatrist he met with yesterday, as he contemplates sharing with the NA group today.
 
 
Sunrise had seemed to come earlier this morning.  Chirping robins heralded the coming of spring.  Despite the rain falling from the sky, streaks of the breaking sun lit the view through the windows of the solarium. 
 
Gary gazed out the window as a leaf skipped past. He couldn't quite remember what cool grass felt like on bare feet or what wind felt like ruffling through his hair. He wanted to be outside so bad he could scream! Raising his arms above his head, he stretched and took a giant breath of the recycled air.  He never dreamed he would spend so long indoors.  He imagined his skin held the same pallor of his fellow patients.  He hoped to feel the refreshing air outside of the ward soon.  The counselors promised a group walk later in the day when the rain was supposed to clear.
 
Shadows played across the solarium floor as Gary continued to brood.  The appointment with the psychiatrist had gone as well as could be expected.  Gary was assured once again that he wasn't crazy; he had a mental illness.  For the life of him, he couldn't discern much difference, but he would take their word for it.  In addition to having more of the illness explained, Dr. Wilbert had asked a bunch of questions.
 
Did he feel like he was the star in a movie about his life?
Gary reflected before he gave his answer.  He could remember seeing his life acted out on the canvas of the world.  He felt he was somehow outside of himself watching as events unfolded.  The other people were merely actors with bit parts.  He had to answer, "Yes."
 
Had he ever been suicidal?  Had he made a plan? Though he tried to fool himself into believing he had never even considered ending it all, Gary knew he thought about it.  He turned over the plans he made in his head.  The garage and a car weren't a viable option recently, but in his mind he still went there.  His other thought was to take enough drugs to sail off into oblivion.  This ideology came to him often.  Again, he answered, "Yes," and explained his thoughts to Dr. Wilbert.
 
Was he afraid of being abandoned? Gary answered, "Yes."  He explained to the doctor his fear about abandonment stemmed from the thoughts he harbored about being too different.  Why would anyone stay?  He just wasn't good enough to hold onto anyone.  Someday, even his mother was bound to throw up her hands in disgust and give up.
 
How often did he feel totally out of control?  Sometimes Gary was aware that he lost himself in the activities around him.  Drinking, drugs, and random sex consumed him at times.  His sexual encounters rarely had anything to do with love.  He acted on attraction and the chase.  If he had money in one hand, he was spending it with the other. It was pretty often that he found himself too caught up and lost.  Reluctantly, Gary murmured, "Yes."
 
Did he often feel so low, getting out of bed was a chore?  Gary nodded in reply.  It started in high school.  Fearing any unpleasant events or remarks that could come his way, he just wanted to ignore his alarm clock.  Staying home and watching TV or a movie with Mom seemed much more attractive than going to school.
 
 At the end of it all, it was decided he wasn't addicted to the drugs because of an addiction disorder, but he had become addicted after self-medicating his inner demons.  Dr. Wilbert explained the subtle difference, and Gary understood what he was saying.  Dr. Wilbert also told him he recommended he be moved to the psych ward to get treatment for his condition. 
 
Given a prescription for his new daily regimen to treat the BPD and Bipolar, Gary walked to the pharmacy window and submitted his scrip.  The nurse told him he would be getting pills every morning and after dinner.  Dr. Wilbert had gone over the possible side effects and asked Gary to let him or one of the nurses know if he experienced anything out of line.  Knowing it would take some time before he felt any effects from the meds, he looked forward to feeling the subtle differences in the way his mind related to the world.  He was to start taking one drug to fight the depression, and another for his anxiety.  Warned that his medications might be changed a few times until the right combination was found, Gary resigned himself to taking pills the rest of his life.
 
He walked down to the dayroom.  Group therapy, or the morning NA meeting, was about to start.  After settling in his chair, Gary looked around the circle at the various members.  Most were wearing the sweat suits offered when entering the facility.  The guys mostly came in with only one change of clothes, and it was nice to have something else to wear while you did your laundry.  Sitting in all these meetings, some of the gang didn't seem to know what to do with their hands.  Without a cigarette, a pipe, or phone, they felt lost.
 
Over the weeks, Gary had heard from each member of the group. He was the only one who had been around for so long without sharing.  He wondered how the group would react to his share this morning.
 
But, today would be the day Gary would share.  He really had nothing to lose.  He was leaving this ward tomorrow morning.  He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but Dr. Wilbert and James assured him it was all for the best.
 
As the meeting started, Gary's thoughts were still swirling.  So much had happened.  As he read the twelve steps out loud with the group, Gary felt a few more pieces clicking in place. 
 
Cindy was leading the group this morning.  He remembered her sweet voice from the first phone call he made to the clinic.  She was therapist to some of the other guys, and they all said she was good at her job.  She was nice, but didn't take any crap.
 
Cindy's voice drew him out of himself, when she asked, "Does anyone want to share?"
 
Taking a deep breath, Gary raised his hand.  "I do."
 
Clearing his throat, Gary began.  "First of all, I want to thank all of you.  I've been sitting in all of these meetings and listening to everyone for the last month.  I couldn't get the nerve to talk because I felt like none of you could understand my story.  I don't come from a broken home.  My parents never beat me, and up until I started using, my life was pretty good."
 
Looking around the circle, Gary didn't see anyone looking disgusted or angry as he feared.  Everyone was listening and encouraging him to go on.  "Yesterday I found out that I used to self-medicate the pain I felt on the inside.  The pain had nothing to do with anything that had been done to me.  I just couldn't figure out why I always felt so different.  The world didn't make sense.  I was angry over nothing.  Some days, I could do just about anything.  I used to design clothes, and I would stay up all night working on a project."
 
With that admission, some of the guys looked surprised.  Gary certainly didn't look like a clothes designer, and no one knew he was gay.  Taking another deep breath, Gary continued.  "I guess this would be a good time to tell you I'm gay.  I wasn't trying to hide it from you, but after concealing who I was from the drug dealers and homeless people I've been living with for the past two years, it's just not something I talk about anymore."
 
Feeling less nervous, Gary continued, "I know that my rock bottom doesn't compare to many of yours.  On the morning, I called the center, I woke up in a doorway and really looked around.  The only possessions I had were the things in my backpack, and my cherished crack pipe.  I thought about everything I had already lost, and the stupidity of the decisions that got me there."
 
Swallowing the huge lump in his throat as he thought about his mother, he started, "The only family I can count on is my mom.  It isn't that the rest of my family hates me or anything.  My sister and father just can't deal with my downward spiral.  We were always a tight knit group, and I've never missed the warmth of our home as I do right now."
 
"Anyway, I wanted to take the time to thank all of you.  Tomorrow, they're moving me to the psych ward.  It turns out I have more mental problems than an actual addiction, and they think I would get better care over there.  I guess I will get a lot more therapy and time with the psychiatrist.  I will miss you guys though.  I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn't stand-offish because of anything you did, it is because I've been in my head for a long time. All of you have shown me that it's okay to talk and it's okay to trust the people here.  We're all just trying to get out of the hole we dug for ourselves."
 
The applause started somewhere on the other side of the circle.  Gary couldn't see exactly who it was, because his eyes were full of tears.  As they closed the meeting with the Serenity Prayer, he felt the words' deeper meaning in his soul.

 

Author Notes

This chapter got a little bit long, but I felt it couldn't be split. Thanks for reading. List of characters: Gary Thompson - the main character who we are following through his life as an addict to recovery Dr. Wilbert: the staff psychiatrist at Sunnyview James: Gary's therapist on the addiction ward Questions posed by Dr. Wilbert are adapted from the Interview Guide for Evaluating DSM-5 Psychiatric Disorders and the Mental Status Examination. DSM-5: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Psychiatric Disorders.

So far, we've been following Gary Thompson's journey to kick his addiction.  We heard his conversation with the intake therapist at Sunnyview Rehabilitation Center.  The struggle within him raged as he decided whether to take the offer for treatment. 
 
We were introduced to his mother, Mary, and shared her fears for her only son's destructive behavior.  We learned she prayed fervently and constantly for his recovery.  His phone call to her about entering rehab was met with tears of relief.
 
We were with Gary as he was beginning to digest the dual diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Bi Polar.  We listened to him share at his last NA group while in the Addiction unit, and we rejoin the story where Gary is assimilating into life on the Psych Unit, and writing his mother a letter.
 
Harsh fluorescent lights only served to accentuate the scarred Formica table tops.  Initials and pleas were scratched all over the surfaces.  Gary used his shirt sleeve to wipe a place, but he realized it wasn't dirt or grime, but thousands of little scratches marring the non-existent shine. 
 
Noises down the hall could be heard.  The other patients were starting their morning routines.  Most headed for coffee, and looked for a place to wait until breakfast was ready.  With his head down, Gary watched as people shuffled into the lounge where he drank his weak decaf.  The preparations for the morning meal could be heard from down the hall, and the smells were tantalizing.  One thing that could be said about Sunnyview – the food was great.
 
Noticeable differences between the addiction unit and this one bounced around in Gary's conscience.  For one thing, security was tighter in the Psych unit, but there seemed to be a higher level of accountability on the unit for addiction.  Staff training was more intense here, but the counselors and therapists seemed friendlier when he entered the addiction center.
 
Processing all the changes around him, Gary tried to tell if there were any effects from his medication.  He was taking his meds as directed, and had been for three weeks, but he wasn't sure if he felt anything.  Drawing a deep breath, Gary was surprised to feel more calm.  Could that be the meds?  He now had daily therapy with his new counselor, Roger, and they seemed to be making progress.  Roger said they were using the talk method of therapy, and while it was effective, they might be starting something new today.
 
Gary put the spiral notebook on the table in front of him.  Roger suggested he keep a journal while he was on the unit.  Putting the paper to another use, Gary decided to write a long overdue letter to his mother.  The blank pages loomed in front of him, and he realized the only way to tackle the task was one word at a time.
 
Dear Mom;
I hope this letter finds you doing good.  I really do apreciate you writing and sending care packages.  I enjoy the clothes and books you've sent.  They won't let me have the cookies because they could have something in them.  I'm sorry, but they end up in the garbage.
 
Thinking about the cookies, Gary's mouth started to water.  He felt bad because he knew his mother rarely baked.  He had been able to glimpse the cookies before they were taken away, and they had the appearance of home-made instead of store bought.  At this point, Gary would even love a Chips Ahoy binge.  He missed the abundant amounts of sugar he used to have every day.
 
I have a lot to talk to you about, and I'm not even sure where to start.  I've been moved to a different ward, and the good news is that I get to call you soon.  The bad news is that it’s the Psych ward.  I know we've talked about the possibility of me having your mental illness, but it still hit hard when they gave me the news.  It seems that I have a dual diagnosys just like you.
 
Since I watched you strugle for all those years, I'm bowned and determined to take the meds they prescribe.  They have me on a few medications.  It took me awhile to read through the paperwork to find out how they worked.  The first one is an antipshycotic called Geodon, and the second one is Lemectil.  It is some kind of mood stabilizer.  Have you ever heard of either of them?  Have you ever had to take them? Did they work for you?  The doctor and therapist say it might take trying out diffrent medicines until they get it right.  I know you didn't get anywear near stable until you finaly gave into the notion you would be on meds for rest of your life.  How on earth did you do it?  I'm having a hard time with getting clean from street drugs, only to start taking prescription drugs, but I have to let go of that notion, you know - huh?
 
Reflecting on the differences in their lives, Gary realized his Mom was already a mother of two toddlers when she was his age.  Other than maybe drinking too much wine occasionally, she hadn't used anything to self-medicate.  He had always thought she was heroic, and he had always told her so.  He didn't really comprehend what she went through until now.
 
The staff psichiatrist told me that they could tell from all the tests I took that I have Borderline Personality Disorder and I'm Bi Polar, too.  I guess your disease is genetic.  I guess being gay on top of it all just was too much for me.  We've been doing regular old talk therapy for the past couple of weeks, but Roger (the therapist assigned to me) says we will start using a different method called D.B.T.  I think it stands for Diabolical Binary Therapy, but I can't remember what he called it.  Did you ever hear of that?  Did you ever do it?
 
More good news – I've been clean for over five weeks now.  YAY!!  I know your happy about that, and I am, to.  I should be able to call in about too weeks.  I need to show them I'm commited to the treatment plan.  I need too take my meds, eat, and sosiaulize with other people. That'll be a change.
 
I can do all that.  I would love to hear your voice. And I think I will call Hillary too.  I hope she wants to here from me.  I've sucked as a little brother for the past few years and I need to make up for alot.
 
I love you, Mommy.  More than I can say,
Love always,
Gary
 
He walked to the nurses' station and asked for an envelope and a stamp.  As he sealed and addressed the envelope, he couldn't help but smile.  He knew the letter would make his Mom's day.
 
 

 

Author Notes

Author's Notes: Gary's letter writing leaves a lot to be desired. Though he is very articulate when he speaks, his written words don't reflect his true intelligence. I used misspellings and grammatical errors to distinguish his writing style. He did grow up with the use of a word processing program, so I believe he depends on the Spelling & Grammar check in the 'Review' section of his word processing program to proof his computer-generated work. He probably hasn't hand written a letter since he was a little kid. Geodon: An antipsychotic medication that works by changing the effects of chemicals in the brain. It is often used to treat schizophrenia and the manic symptoms of Bi Polar disorder. Lamictal: An anti-epileptic medication used to treat mood episodes in patients with Bi Polar disorder. D.B.T (Dialectical Behavior Therapy): This therapy is often used for high-risk, tough-to-treat patients, often with multiple diagnoses. It was initially designed to treat patients with suicidal behaviors and Borderline Personality Disorder, but it has been adapted to treat other mental health issues that cause problems with relationships, work, and emotional well-being. People with Borderline Personality Disorder often have difficulty regulating emotions. This typically causes disruptive moods, destructive behavior and problems with interpersonal relationships. Often this mental illness can lead to substance abuse, risky sex, and other dangerous behaviors.

Chapter 9
Reality Strikes

By Mustang Patty

So far, we've been following Gary Thompson's journey to kick his addiction.   
 
We've been introduced to his mother, Mary.  His phone call to her about entering rehab was met with tears of relief.
 
We were with Gary as he was beginning to digest the dual diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Bi Polar.  We listened to him share at his last NA group while in the Addiction unit, and we read along as Gary wrote his mother a letter.
 
Rejoining the story, we find ourselves in Roger's office.  Roger is the therapist assigned to Gary's case, and they are deep into a counseling session.

"How are the group meetings going for you, Gary?"
 
Looking at Roger and wondering how much he should say, Gary replied, "The meetings are okay.  I'm just not sure I'm getting anything out of it.  Most of the guys are really off the wall.  There are five of us in the group, and everyone talks about these crazy things they did while they were using.  I'm not sure I can relate."
 
"What do you find so crazy about their antics?"
 
"One guy, his name is Paul, talks about getting drunk and beating up his girlfriend.  Hell, he even talks about beating up his mother.  I don't think I could ever do that."
 
Consulting his notes, Roger looked closely at Gary.  "Do you remember telling me that you were arrested for domestic violence?  Don't you think it’s the same thing?"
 
"That was all just a big misunderstanding.  I didn't hit Andrew.  He fell down and got a rug burn on his face.  That's why the police arrested me.  He had the damage that showed.  There were a few scratches on him, too.  What he had done to me just didn't show."
 
"By definition what you're describing is domestic violence."
 
"Really?"  Gary remembered the whole scene.  Andrew was never mad about it.  They were both trashed.  They had been out partying and things just got out of hand.  "I didn't mean to hurt him.  We were both drunk."
 
"It's time for you to face some things.  Your behavior is a combination of self-medication with drugs and alcohol, and your unwillingness to look at the truth.  Have you shared any of your problems with the group?"
 
"No.  In all honesty, I don't think I'm anything like those guys.  Well, maybe Chad.  He is here for the same things as me.  He was originally on the rehab unit and got sent over here when they realized he was Bipolar.  When I listen to him talk, I can identify with what he's going through.  We attend the NA meetings together and we actually have some things in common, but when he talks about the other stuff that got him in trouble, I just can't relate."
 
"When you look back over the past few years, aren't there things you're ashamed of, or embarrassed by?  Have you written any of those things in your journal like we talked about?"
 
"In all honesty, I haven't written anything in the journal.  It seems stupid.  What am I supposed to put in here?"  Gary reached into his back pocket where he carried the notebook folded in half.  Unfurling the pad, he shook it at Roger.  "And all they gave me to write with is a pencil!  I can't write with a pencil.  I need a pen."
 
"Gary, the journal is part of your therapy.  We only meet for an hour each day.  You only have group for another hour.  There are things that will come to you at other times during the day.  So, you need to write about them and reflect on them.  Maybe you would see that you do have things to talk about at group.  Maybe you will see that you're not so different.  You need to stop thinking you're better than the rest of the guys.  That's the Borderline Personality Disorder talking.  You feel like your condition is special.  Like you have more going on than the rest of the guys.  At the end of the day, you're in that group because you are like them."
 
Gary stared blankly at Roger.  He didn't know what to say, but then Roger continued.
 
"And we can't give you a pen because you are in a mental ward.  Too many of these folks would either use the pen as a weapon, or at best, use the ink for tattoos."
 
With a sigh, Roger continued, "Our time is up for today.  When you come in tomorrow, I want to see two full pages of notes in your journal.  I want you to concentrate on your feelings about why you're here.  That will be a start."
 
Leaving Roger's office, Gary felt his stomach rumbling.  The aroma from the kitchen was tantalizing.  He stuck his notebook back in his pocket, and started toward the cafeteria.  Macaroni and cheese was on the menu for the day.  He was certain there would be a line.
 
The line didn't disappoint, and Gary fell into the queue.  He was just picking up his tray and cutlery, when he heard a loud voice behind him.
 
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T HAVE SECONDS?"
 
The whole cafeteria stopped and quiet blanketed the scene.  Only the yelling of one person was heard.  Chad was at the center of the chaos, and he continued to bellow, "IT'S BAD ENOUGH I HAVE TO BE IN HERE WITH THESE PEOPLE… these, these LOSERS!"
 
"I'M HUNGRY!!  IT SAYS IN THE PATIENT'S RIGHTS THAT I'M ENTITLED TO EAT.  I WANT MORE MACARONI AND CHEESE!"
 
From the corner of his eye, Gary saw two of the larger male nurses quietly enter the cafeteria. Everyone was frozen in place except Chad. He became more and more agitated and flung his tray across the room.
 
Ducking down, Gary ventured a look from behind his raised hand.  Chad seems bigger somehow and the edges of Gary's vision clouded over.  He knows Chad is losing it.  He saw his mother lose it when he was a kid.  These episodes could get dangerous.  Gary was more scared than he wants to admit.
 
"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?"  Chad glared at the nurse.  With deliberate motion, the nurses rush towards Chad, and he threw a punch.  One of the nurses came flying back in Gary's direction.  As Gary was trying to get up, Chad aimed his plastic knife at the other nurse.
 
"LEAVE ME ALONE!  ALL OF YOU!  I'M TIRED OF THIS PLACE.  YOU CAN'T EVEN GET A GOOD MEAL OR FILL YOUR BELLY."
 
Roger and Dr. Wilbert crept into the cafeteria.  Gently, Dr. Wilbert called to Chad.  "Come on, Chad.  Put the knife down.  You don't want to hurt anyone.  I tell you what, you come with me, and I'll get you more macaroni and cheese."
 
The calming voice did little for Chad's agitation.  Gary watched him carefully as he started to shake.  He continued to watch as the nurse came behind Chad.  A flash of the hypodermic as it slid into his neck.  It only seemed like seconds before Chad went to the ground in a heap.
 
Strong arms carried Chad out of the cafeteria and a low buzzing could be heard as the room slowly came back to life.  Everyone talked at the same time.  The decibel level rose to a crescendo with excited voices.  Gary was still reeling from the episode.  He did his best to get his food and eat, but his appetite had left him.  After staring at his food for several minutes, he took his tray to the garbage, and left the room. 
 
Gary was shaken up and retreated to the dayroom with the rest of the patients.  Realizing that Chad is 'one of his own,' Gary reflected on his own past manic behaviors.  Looking at the blank page in front of him, he grabs his pencil.  Gary struggled with how to begin.  Girls wrote their entries as 'Dear Diary.'  He didn't want to do that.  With a sudden inspiration, he wrote:
 
Colonel's Log, Psych Date,7075
Therefore, but for the grace of God, go I…or something like that.
 
 

Author Notes

We're coming to the end of Gary's journey. The next chapter will be the last in his story. Thank you to those who have read along with my telling of this tale. Gary: Our protagonist Roger: Gary's therapist Dr. Wilbert: The facility's psychiatrist Chad: Another patient in Gary's group Paul: Another patient in Gary's group

Chapter 10
Gary's new life

By Mustang Patty

 
 In this novella, we've been following Gary Thompson's journey to kick his addiction.   
 
Introduced to his mother, Mary, we listened in as he told her he was finally going to rehab.  Mary's tears of relief came from months of praying and agonizing over her son's problems.
 
We were with Gary as he digested the dual diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Bipolar.  We read along as Gary wrote his mother a letter, and discussed the difficulties of dealing with his illness and life in a psychiatric ward.
 
As we rejoin the story, we find ourselves at another NA meeting.  Time has passed since we last left Gary, and we hear the rest of his story.
 


The whiteboard up front announced the event of the day.  Leaders of the group distributed reading materials on each of the seats.  Stacked, the copies of the AA Bible waited on the table in the back of the room. A large coffee pot gurgled as the coffee finished brewing.  Plates of cookies graced the refreshment table along with the stacks of styrofoam cups.
 
At precisely ten minutes before the hour, they opened the room, and participants straggled through the doors and into the chairs.  Most grabbed a copy of the blue book from the table, and they all looked at the papers in their seats.  Today's announcements were centered on the next person to receive his ninety-day chip, Gary Thompson.  The group settled in to listen to his share. 
 
Gary paced outside in the hall, his stomach, tied up in knots; and his palms sweaty.  He looked down at the five by seven cards.  His notes were sloppy, and he knew he wouldn't use them, but they gave him something to do with his hands.  When the group leader said his name, he walked through the doors.
 
Applause began at the back of the room and followed his progress as he walked.  Feeling himself flush on his neck, Gary began to pray for strength.  He was weak in the legs and his mind went blank.  How would he get through this?
 
Standing at the lectern, Gary looked around.  His sponsor was front and center.  The friends he'd made beamed up at him. His gut loosened and he cleared his throat to begin.
 
"Hi, my name is Gary, and I'm an addict." 
 
The response from the group,  "Hi Gary."
 
"I entered this facility about three months ago.  First, I was housed in the rehab building, where I went through detox.  There's ten days I'm glad are over."
 
The group laughed and smiled.  Quite a few had experienced their own detox and could identify with Gary's pain. 
 
"Through the tests they give us, it was discovered that I wasn't just an addict.  I had deeper problems.  The addiction was a result of me self-medicating.  The doctor and therapist told me I had a mental illness.  In fact, I had two mental illnesses.  I suffer from both bipolar and Borderline Personality Disorder.
 
"Finding this out was a blow to my self-esteem.  I didn't want to believe I was mentally ill.  I would rather deal with being an addict and just kick the bad habit.  As it is, I still take drugs and will be for the rest of my life."
 
Starting to feel more comfortable, Gary relaxed and leaned forward to place his elbows on the lectern.  His voice dropped an octave as he continued, "Coming over to this unit and joining this group has taught me that I was wrong about the people that suffer from mental illness.  I grew up with a mother who struggled with her own issues, but I always felt sorry for her.  It seemed that she was the victim.  Now that I've met most of you, and heard about the new medications and therapies, I feel like we can all live with our illnesses. We can live productive lives.
 
"Right before I came to this facility, I was barely living.  I didn't have a permanent place to live.  I was losing the few friends I had left and right.  My days were spent chasing the dragon.  From the time I woke up, until I found a place to sleep, I was feeding my habit.  I sold drugs to support myself.  Since I was my own best customer, I barely made enough to eat.
 
"I was always angry.  I was paranoid and thought it was the effect of the drugs.  I found out through counseling that I was dealing with the symptoms of my illness.  Instead of getting help, I continued to use.  In reality, that was the worst thing I could do.  I was only making things worse.
 
"The morning of the day I made the best phone call of my life, I reached an all-time low.  I felt like the whole world was against me.  I seriously considered smoking everything I was holding.  My dealer was on my back for money.  My clothes and everything I owned were shoved into a smelly, dirty backpack, and I was bone tired.  I didn't know what to do.  For the first time in almost a decade, I fell to my knees and prayed."
 
At the memory of that morning, Gary felt tears stinging his eyes.  As he continued to talk, they worked their way down his cheeks. 
 
"God didn't answer right away.  I wasn't angry, but I was disappointed.  Later in the day, when I'd made enough money to get something to eat, I found His answer.  Inside the diner where I went to grab a burger and fries, I found something in the men's room.  On the back of the stall door, there was a flyer about this place.  At the bottom, there was a phone number.  All it said was to call if I was in trouble.
 
"That phone call brought me here.  It saved my life.  I think I needed to find out what was wrong with me.  I know I needed to stop doing drugs.  I needed to get my life back.
 
"When I leave here in the next few days, I'm going to live in a sober living facility.  My social worker has found me the place to live, and a job.  I'm a little nervous about that.  I haven't really worked in almost five years.
 
"Fact is, I'm a lot nervous about leaving this place.  I've found a place to belong.  I haven't felt this good since I left my mother's house."
 
A sniff in the back of the room caught Gary's attention.  He scanned the room and was surprised to see his mother.  Without thinking, he ran to the back of the room.  Mary screamed in delight as he picked her up and swung her around.  The group clapped and cheered. 
 
He placed her back on the ground and shouted, "This is my mom.  She's the best.  She stood by me through all the ups and downs.  She never gave up on me – even when I gave up on myself."
 
 
Epilogue:
 
Gary left the psych unit for the sober living facility.  It took the doctors awhile to find the best combination of drugs to treat his mental illness, but he kept taking the meds.  He could function and did very well at the job they had for him.  He was working as a server in an Italian restaurant and loved it.  The tips were good and he was saving money. 
 
After a year of living there, he was asked if he was interested in becoming a counselor.  Gary thought he was ready to give back.  He decided to go back to school and get some training.  His life was taking a whole new direction.
 
Mary came to visit every six months.  She offered to help him pay for his classes and he agreed with the stipulation that he would pay it all back after he got a counseling job.  Their relationship continued to grow.
 
Having healed the relationship with his sister, Hilary, Gary could spend Christmases with the whole family and spend time with his niece and nephew.  Watching Hilary and her husband, Gary wondered if he was ready to find a life partner. 
 
Three years later:
 
Their wedding was simple.  Mary and Hilary shed copious tears as he and David exchanged vows.  Gary never thought he would feel this happy.  His life and heart were full.  He knew he still needed to take each day as a new challenge to keep away from the drugs, but he knew he was content now.
 
He was finally home.
 
 
 

Author Notes

This is the end of my novella. I plan to work on this, expand the chapters and see if I can get it published. I only posted the basic framework here - and I've been very grateful for the kind words and help with editing.

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