that would ultimately shut down my body. I focused on pulling the energy from my feet and hands through my limbs and up into my body, then dropping that life force back to earth. I repeated this, pulling and pulling energy through my body and then down to the ground. I focused on my breathing and could feel the frigid cold in each part of my body as it slowly, limb by limb, became lifeless.
When I could no longer feel or move my limbs, I then focused on my head and neck, pulling the energy into my chest and into the ground. I pulled deeper and deeper into the darkness. I grew colder and colder, and finally I could no longer feel my body. Then I blacked out.
SIDEBAR:
I don’t know how we had gotten
to this point, how we let our lives
spin this far out of control, it wasn’t
supposed to be like this. I knew my
decision could go one of two ways
and although I didn’t want to lose
Josh, I knew that was a possibility.
Addiction would eventually kill him
and I was always torn on how would
I feel if it happened after I left him,
would I feel like it was my fault
because I didn’t stay? Was there
something I could do? How would
I feel if I stayed and he died? I knew
that by giving him a choice it would
allow me to move forward and not
feel the burden of that weight.
I hadn’t talked to him all weekend
so I had no idea the shape he was
in, or what he was thinking, I just
knew that we both were hurting.
I was gone. I drifted through darkness, eventually coming upon a faint light in the distance. The light moved swiftly toward me, and when it reached me, it transformed into the figure of a woman who looked familiar, though I couldn’t place her. She reached a hand out to touch mine, caressing it in such a loving, comforting way that it reminded me of being in the arms of my own mother, in the innocence of youth. I felt safe and loved, fully believing, for the first time in a long time, that I would be okay.
Then she said to me the words that changed my life forever: “No … Not yet. There’s more work to do.” Then she let go of my hand and disappeared as quickly as she’d come.
Like a patient receiving an electrical jolt from a defibrillator, I startled awake and took an enormous gasp of air. I realized that my plan had failed. I was trapped, once again, in this miserable life. My strength completely drained and my mind emptied, I could do nothing but cry.
After hours passed this way, I heard the familiar sound of Lisa’s keys in the door. It was time to face her and the desolation I’d created. I lay on the couch in the living room, holding my breath and waiting for the inevitable dressing down I knew I deserved.
She slowly made her way through the house, and spied the rifle in the hallway. I heard a slight gasp before she appeared, standing above me, looking down.
The look in her eyes was a mixture of pity and strength. She stood there in full uniform, badge over her heart and gun strapped to her side, and she looked different to me now. There was resolve in her eyes, watering with the enormity of what she was seeing, but I could see by the expression of distaste and disregard on her face that she was done with all this. Lisa, the strong, determined Lisa I’d fallen in love with, was once again standing here before me. I felt relieved to see her, even as I dreaded what would surely come next.
SIDEBAR:
I was ready for it to stop. I was
ready to take a stand for me. To
either move forward together or
move forward alone. I was glad
that Josh was willing to come
with me, to take on life again.
There comes a time when we
each get to Take A Stand for
something we either get to say or
do that will have a positive effect
on you, those around you and
possibly the world. It could be a
very difficult thing to do because
the answer may or may not be
how you want it to look. Trust
your intuition and follow your
heart and you can get through it.
She sighed heavily, then looked me right in the eyes and said, “Josh, either you go to treatment now, or I’m packing my bags and leaving you.” I had been searching for a lifeline for a long time. I had wanted it all to stop, but didn’t know how. Lisa’s strength to call an end to all of this created the change we both wanted. That night, I left for rehab.
Fighting My Way Back
I was no stranger to the rehabilitation process. In my unusual youth, I was forced into youth behavioral and drug treatment programs twice. Even on my own, I had attempted a few times to quit partying, rarely with any long-lasting success. But before long, the cycle of nightclub work became too strong a force to confront sober. Once, as a preteen, and again at 13, I had even spent time in rehab, but I can see now I hadn’t fully committed to the process; my family’s business, my insecurity, and the resulting depression seemed to be good enough excuses to get off the wagon.
But there was something I had in late 2001 that I hadn’t had those times before: I had a marriage I very much wanted to save. As much as I thought I loved drinking, I loved Lisa more. Our future was at stake, and I knew that if I were to lose Lisa, I would go over the edge and likely never come back.
So
