Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Gretchen
“Hi, my name is Gretchen, and I’m an addict,” I say as I stand in front of a room full of people.
Several of the Kings are in attendance, their presence obvious in their leather cuts, but instead of making people nervous, it seems to calm them.
I guess it has to do with the fact that they saved those who were in this community from a fate worse than death.
Quite a few of the survivors are now in an in-patient facility for further treatment, but Louis and Griffin are here tonight, and I find myself focusing on them instead of Doc, who’s leaning against the wall watching me intently.
“Up until six or so weeks ago, I would’ve then followed up that I had sixteen years of being clean under my belt.
Unfortunately, as many of y’all are aware, there’s someone living in the shadows who wants to snatch people like us off the streets, get us addicted if we weren’t already, then sell us to the higher bidder.
So, I now have three weeks under my belt and while it’s technically a relapse, it wasn’t due to anything that I did. ”
That’s the part of the whole thing that Beth has been helping me overcome. I’m a survivor of what was done to me. Thanks to the shit that I was doped up with, I may always fight the monkey now, but I have the tools and knowledge to be successful.
“I wanted to share my experience, strength, and hope so that you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we do recover. It might be difficult, and there will probably be bumps in the road, but the fact that you admitted that you had a problem is the first step in recovery. It may be some time before I resume my role at the clinic in town as a recovery coach, but I’m available if you need resources.
Not everything will work on everybody since we’re all our own unique individuals, which is one of the reasons why what Dr. Brooks does at the clinic is so helpful.
Everyone’s plan is tailored to their needs, ensuring that you’re safely detoxed, while making sure you get all the tools you need to succeed. ”
A hand raises and I nod at Griffin. “Hey, um, Gretchen, have you found this time to be more difficult?”
I stop and think about what he’s saying as my gaze wanders to Doc.
Seeing him give me an encouraging smile, I nod.
“Absolutely. When I realized I was addicted to pain medication as a teenager, I was sent to a detox facility where I was carefully monitored using various other medications until it was out of my system. While I continued to follow a recovery program, I never felt the need to use again. This time, because I was abducted then given an unknown cocktail of illegal substances, it’s been a lot harder.
I feel like I have a monkey on my back and it was a huge six-hundred-pound gorilla when I was first rescued, but now it’s like one of those little ones you used to see in pictures with the organ grinders. ”
Laughter rings out at the visual I just painted and I find myself laughing alongside them. They know what I’m saying, and many are dealing with that now. Griffin continues, asking, “Do you think it’ll be harder to maintain it this time?”
“I think it will, yes, because the desire is still there, lurking. The important thing for me to remember, and hopefully for y’all as well, is that as long as we have a support network, we’ll make it through.
I’ve taken up a couple of new hobbies to keep myself busy, and I found a therapist whose specialty isn’t in substance use, but she’s helped me deal with the emotions and feelings that this situation has triggered in me.
One of the things I knew going in this time is that I have to keep busy.
I used to be an athlete and while I can’t do what I could before, I make time to work out several times a week.
Not to keep in shape or be able to eat whatever I want, although those are nice perks, but because it gives me a chance to take care of myself in a positive, meaningful way.
That might not be your thing. You may like putting puzzles together or sewing.
Explore your likes and find something you can hold onto when you have tough days.
Pick up the phone and call your sponsor or your therapist if you have one. ”
I lift my arm and show them my still-healing tattoo. “The day after I was taken, I was scheduled to get a sobriety tattoo done to reflect my sixteen years. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but when I shared what happened, she put her thinking cap on and came up with this.”
It’s on my left forearm where everyone can see and has a stopwatch at the top with my first clean date, then there are sixteen vines that go down before they’re abruptly cut by a thin line and they pick up again with a new stopwatch and the date that Doc pulled out the IV in that warehouse.
“Each vine represents a year of being clean and the break represents the unfortunate relapse. The new stopwatch indicates my new clean date, and she’ll add something along the bottom for each successive year.”
“I thought it was supposed to be one day at a time?” someone calls out.
“It is, but I’m being very intentional about my recovery, so I fully anticipate adding those indicators of my success,” I reply.
“And should the unthinkable happen? Well, I’ll start again.
Because as long as I keep getting up, I am succeeding.
For those of you early in your journey, you may not fully understand that yet.
But every single day you don’t use, is another day closer to whatever milestone you have set for yourself.
One day at a time is a great reminder that while we can set goals, this disease is insidious and has to be watched at all times.
But one day will turn into thirty and then soon, you’ll have six months and before you know it, you’ll look back and see you’ve been in active recovery for years.
Just start out with whatever measurement of time you’re able to handle right now.
It could be five minutes, it could be a day. Just keep moving forward.”
With that, I step down and allow someone else to speak. As I make my way to Doc, he opens his arms and I find myself engulfed in the very best hug I’ve ever had. He leans in and whispers, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Gretchen! And that tattoo is badass.”
“Shelly’s a rockstar,” I reply, looking up at him. “I wanted to pay her, but she said that they won’t accept payment for sobriety tattoos. So, I tipped her instead.”
He bursts out laughing while shaking his head. “Bet she donates it to some charity or another.”
“I think she did,” I murmur so as not to distract any of the other attendees.
“Because Beth mentioned that Hope House received about twenty boxes full of things for the ladies there, and there was no note. She said that the Kings usually give her a heads up before they send anything, and since they’re self-funded for the most part, it’s not like a stranger off the street would be likely to have done something like that. ”
“Sounds like something she’d do,” he says. “You okay to leave yet or do we need to stick around?”
“We can leave. I left pamphlets with the clinic information by the coffee pots,” I reply. “Besides, I’m kind of hungry.”
He chuckles as he looks at the other brothers who came with us tonight and lifts his chin. As a group, we leave and I soon find myself sitting in a booth at the diner, eating with him and some of the guys.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing, either. If I’m his, then I need to get to know his brothers. Most are still single, except for Rio, BamBam, and Abyss, but as good looking as all of them are, I think if they wanna find someone, they’ll have no issues whatsoever.
“I have something I want to show you,” he says once we’re parked in front of the clubhouse.
He helps me off then takes my hand in his and leads me toward one of the many barns that dot the property.
Most are for the horses and other livestock, but others hold the equipment to keep the place looking good, as well as storage.
Based on what Constance told me, I suspect that as they needed space, they just built another barn.
Letting my hand go, he shoves the door open and turns on the overhead light, causing me to gasp out loud. “Is that what I think it is?” I ask, practically running toward the pop-up camper that’s in the middle of the bare floor.
He smirks as he slowly strides toward me. “Yeah, I uh… I had Nerd do a little research and find me one, bought it, and now, me and a few of the brothers are fixing it up so you have it to use at the farmer’s market.”
I keep walking around it, seeing what they’ve removed, what they’ve repainted, and what’s still to be done, based on a huge piece of paper with a design sketched on it. There are measurements and notes, and I briefly gaze at them before I turn to Doc, a huge smile on my face.
“I can’t believe you did this for me!” I exclaim, practically jumping into his arms. “This is the nicest thing I think anyone has ever done for me.”
He leans down and kisses my nose. “Get used to it, sweetheart. I love being able to spoil you.”
I don’t think, I just act on how I’m feeling as I grab his face in my hands and lean in to kiss him.
The brief touches he’s been giving me have had me on a low, slow boil for weeks now and with this, I guess the right temperature was finally hit.
When he deepens the kiss, I realize that he meant what he’s been saying all along.
I’m his. And he’s mine.
Now, if I could just get us out of molasses territory, because my body is burning up with want and need.