As I settle into my jail cell just moments after I get done with my day in court, a day I thought I would never have to face considering it was two years since the date of my arrest. I plead out to get a reduced sentence, I’m only doing nine months – six months of jail time with three months taken off for “good behavior”. For the first hour I’m reflecting on how my life could bring me to this place, to be sitting in a jail cell trapped from a life I was trying to recreate out of the ashes of the old one, after I myself set torch to it. Its mind numbing to realize that even though I began a journey to recreate myself in an image that was always just out of my reach for most of my life, my past life and consequences from that life still affect me years later. I was a heavy drug user for years I stopped it all and then started back on it again for what was at that time a two-year run of debasement and self-destruction until I got arrested for a meth-induced-mentally-absent moment. I have a difficult time today of even thinking about that night, how I was and why I was that way back then baffles me even now. Where I am at in this cell, the view I have about the situation is; I am in a much better place and my mental condition is one that is constantly improving, compared to where I was on that fateful night two years prior, it’s still very difficult for me to set that into the right frame of mind, to be happy I’m in jail and sober instead of high and out on the streets. I’m elated that I remained clean and sober to this point, recovery for that first few months was chaos and everyone that was around me suffered greatly and came away less for it in some ways, I was the only one who gained any ground but only by comparison to the life I was living while on meth. I eventually came to the understanding that simply choosing to be clean and sober wasn’t enough to lift me away from the desire to continue doing drugs, I knew and will always know I couldn’t continue my involvement with drugs. My addictions coupled to that old me and how I couldn’t deal with the weight of responsibility that life burdens us with is still lurking within and it's up to me how I address that darker self. It's not an evil side of who I am but rather a side that chooses to deal with life at a more base level. Like a child who doesn’t know anything outside of his own ignorant desires, simple desires like to be left alone and to get what it wants without regard for others. If I ignore that other self, he will only grow worse until the chance for renewal arrives and that could be my final destruction. What I do now is educate myself about me, how to direct my thoughts, my actions, how to interpret my emotions and guide myself away from self-destruction and how to better deal with my darker more primitive sides. We as humans are so familiar to one another we can see ourselves in everyone we meet if we choose to take notice, I for one use that as a tool to find the lies I use to hide parts of myself from myself. I try to view the world in an objective manner, never involving my emotions but just observing without judgement or evaluation. It’s a way to view the world that rids the self of a good deal of negative side effects that judgement produces, it appears shallow and callus but for me and my past, I try everything I can to regulate my emotions, there is no other option. I know there is always hope, as long as there is life in one's body there is hope but building myself up just to destroy everything I’ve worked for is a reoccurring theme to my life, the difference between this renewal and the others; I am better informed about Me and why I chose to destroy myself in past situations, why I chose ignorance instead of knowledge. I must know myself as best I can to play the game to the highest level in order to legitimately get what I want and keep it. I have to work for my dreams to attain the goals I set for myself and demand nothing but absolute compliance while on my way to attainment. I didn’t wake up and have an epiphany that night I got arrested I was destroyed to the ground and this me is a new me that was created as a result of my actions that night. I am risen from the ashes of that old life to make the best of yet another chance to live and to be Alive. I know finally without thought what the right choices are and the decisions I need to make in order to win this game I’m in now. My view on life and how I wanted to continue with living my life was a process I had to understand and actively engage in, to learn from my mistakes instead of insanely repeating the same ones over and over again.
After trying to center myself and prepare for my new temporary home in the county jail, I am pulled from my musing by the corrections officer opening up the cell door to shove in another inmate. I was hoping since I'm in the middle of what this country knows all too well as the Covid years, that I would be in the 72-hour quarantine cells isolated without contact with any other inmates but being in jail with no rights as I was, I accepted my situation as one I had no control over so no use in creating mental anguish for myself because of it. After speaking with my new "celly" I soon found out why he got picked up by the police, no contact order between him and his girlfriend, and what was worse is; he was coming down from heroin, a feeling I knew all too well being an ex-heroin addict myself. At this point in my stay at the county jail I was still positive and upbeat even naively so, that was all about to change quite rapidly as this new addition was my wake up call. I know the signs and the conditions which an addict operates in when there is no hope for relief from the inevitable withdrawals that would soon consume this person fully. It was only mere moments after his arrival that he started showing the signs of withdrawal. His interaction with me was cordial, he was agreeable telling me his deepest secrets, his fears, his loves, everything that drove him to this point in his life and then he would spin on a dime screaming out to the guards, to anybody that would listen. He would bang on the door of our cell and continuously press the intercom button asking absurd questions, yet the only thing I could think about was if his actions were going to affect me and the length of my stay in jail. I felt bad for him on an intimate level, having gone through it myself too many times to count, but I also knew it would take time for this to pass and only being trapped in isolation for three days I wouldn’t witness him break through to the other side of detox, I would only get this bipolar chaotic side of his withdrawals. I just sat back on the top bunk, closed my eyes and started counting the days until I was released.
