Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

“They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said no, no, no…” was playing on the radio as my parents drove me down to Kerrville, Texas. 
How appropriate, I thought. 

After about an hour-long drive out in the Hill Country, past fields of bluebonnets and a dozen peach stands, we cruised down a thin, winding road that ended in a circle loop-around in front of a  brick, commonplace building. It was one-story but spread out and attached to what looked like an old, rustic house complete with a giant Texas star mowed into the grass. 

The notorious Texas pollen crawled into my nose as I crawled out of the car much like a scared dog with his tail tucked between his legs—Surrendered and worried what was to happen to him. My left eye was bruised and blacked from the night before. I had come home drunk and woke up with a black eye. That’s all I knew and I had other things taking up my mind other than trying to figure out how it happened. 

When I walked through the front double-doors, I was cordially welcomed by a thin, fragile man with short dirty blonde hair. 

“Welcome to high school,” he said in a raspy, phlegmy voice. He didn’t look my older than I, just having the look as if he had came back from a war zone. 

I nodded, “Thanks?” 

That was the beginning of it all. I was in the real world now, it seemed. Well, it was more realistic than the shiny bubble I lived in at Lake Travis. 

During the check-in, when they were taking my vitals—checking my blood pressure and pulse—they were also searching through all my clothes and belongings.

I forgot I had a few pictures of my friends and I ripping bongs, getting high mixed in with some regular, clean pictures. The technicians, or “techs,” as we called them, snatched them up faster than I could say Amy Whinehouse. They said I could get them back when I leave, but that was a lie because I never saw them again.
The whole check-in process, which also included an alcohol/ drug evaluation, where you have to mention every single thing you've that done due to drugs and alcohol. It was a nonstop nightmare. I also felt somewhat violated after an incredibly thorough pat down—from a male tech.

The techs were recovered addicts and alcoholics who had previously been patients there.
During all this mess, I was thinking—

      Who would bring drugs into a rehab?

The answer: a LOT of people.

After hugs from my parents, they left. I sat there, shaking on the inside, wondering, why in the hell did I agree to do this?

When my parents initially brought up the whole rehab idea, I agreed because I knew I needed it, but particularly, I was bored and wanted something to do. It would be a new adventure of sorts.
Later, after that pitiful conversation with my parents, I started to worry. I could not shake the vision of drug addicts wandering around aimlessly—
Drooling,
Scratching themselves,
Peeing on the walls. 

And maybe even some in straight-jackets. All of them completely zonked on whatever meds they were on.

Boy, was I wrong.
A refreshing wrong, though. This was rehab, not a looney bin. Although some of the patients were certifiable.
This was a place to chill out, relax and get away from your outside troubles for a month.
Oh, but no alcohol. Sorry.


The first guy I met, who gave me that warm high school welcome, had been quite observant. Rehab was clique central. There was even a group that was considered "the popular group," of rehab.

Real cool, I know, to be the most popular in rehab. A fun oxymoron, really. 

They took me in. I have no idea why, they just told me to sit with them at lunch one day.

And the "popular clique," they were, being the stereotypical "Mean Girls" and guys who would sit at lunch, making fun of and creating ugly nicknames for everybody. I hung out with them for the first few days, until I became more comfortable and adapted. Once I felt that, I flew away as fast as I could, but still managed to keep everything cool with them. It was my shyness and not saying much, I think. They thought I was just a calm and collected dude when really I felt like the most insecure person in there..