I Know Your Every Move

by Diane Ezzard

  There was no sign of Kyle. The kitchen looked a mess. Two empty wine bottles stood prominently in front of me. Did I drink all that? I couldn’t remember everything that happened, but I had a sinking feeling I may have said a lot of unpleasant things. I did have a flashback of me screaming and I felt a pang of remorse inside. I was embarrassed by my behaviour. It was so out of character to fly off the handle over something so small but I was getting more and more irritable these days. The truth was, I thought I was out of control. I spotted a note on the table Kyle had scrawled. I picked it up. Digesting each word, it said he had gone to his mum’s because he had had enough of my behaviour.

  I sat in shock, desperate for a drink, not knowing what to do. I was full of guilt and shame about everything. I hated every bone in my body. I could no longer bear to look at myself in the mirror because I knew what I saw back would frighten me. I was a dishevelled wreck. What had happened to me? How had things got to this stage? Where had that funny, caring girl gone? I was like a Jekyll and Hyde character and I had become scared of myself and my behaviours. In that moment I realised I needed help.

  Sitting for a while deep in thought, it became increasingly apparent I had to do something. Maybe Kyle had done me a favour. I couldn’t continue much longer in this way. I went on to the internet to see what I could find out about alcohol abuse. I clicked on the first link I saw that said: “Need help with a drink problem?” I started reading through the literature and it was as though someone had been following me around. What it described had me summed up totally. I decided to phone the helpline number. I spoke to a man who was very pleasant and told me for just over eight thousand pounds I would be able to stay in a residential rehab. They would detox me and provide therapeutic counselling. He talked for some time and began to convince me but I needed a drink.

  “I’ll have a think about it,” I said.

  “Well don’t think for too long as we only have one bed available at the moment. Who knows how long you might have to wait if that one goes.”

  I thought about what he said and he disturbed the silence by adding, “Isn’t your life worth doing this for, Sophie. You owe it to yourself to get well.”

  I put the phone down without giving him a commitment. I was desperate for a drink but knew I had had enough of the way I was living. I had some savings I couldn’t touch that had been locked away, supposedly to help me with the deposit for a house. I wondered if it was possible to draw out these funds. I thought I should ask Mum and Dad if I could borrow the money and pay them back. I felt pretty desperate.

  I rang them and spoke to Dad. He was mortified my drinking had got to the level it had, and he didn’t want to believe it but I managed to convince him I needed help. So he agreed I should go into rehab and there was no time like the present. He said he would pick me up and take me to the centre if I got straight back on to the company. I didn’t know if I was making the correct decision to do this especially as the need to drink came on me again but something inside me urged me to do the right thing. I phoned back to the centre, and they told me there was still a bed available if I came down that day.

  I thought for a few moments then said, “Let’s do this,” and within a few hours, I was incarcerated in a drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre, still sobering up and wondering what hit me.

  Chapter Twenty

  THEN

  I went into rehab planning to make a few changes in my life. As things turned out, I changed just about everything. I’d made a few drastic decisions when I went in against all advice. Thankfully, I had a network of support around me to help me deal with the fallout of my actions. Going through treatment was the hardest thing I had ever done. Whilst there, I felt bullied, picked on, misunderstood and I’d thought about walking out on numerous occasions. Deep down I thought these people cared enough to do what was best for me and if I didn’t allow that then what did I have left? They certainly knew better than me what was good for me. My best efforts had got me into rehab. I messed up and made lots of mistakes. So, if it meant taking a long hard look at myself, going to a few meetings a week, keeping close to like-minded people and looking for ways to help others as well as changing my attitudes, behaviours and actions for the better, then I was prepared to do it.

  The first thing I did when I went in was to send a letter to my company handing in my notice. I didn’t hear anything from any of my colleagues, including Simon which upset me but I tried to put all the sadness I felt to the back of my mind. I was numb. I couldn’t trust my judgement but I did know that the people I worked with weren’t the kind I needed to associate with anymore. I thought I was being a bit hasty, but it dawned on me if I was going to make a success of a sober life then I couldn’t be around heavy drinkers all the time. I realised continuing to work alongside Simon would have been unbearable and I didn’t know if I was strong enough to resist temptation.

  I decided I wanted a complete change from accountancy so made up my mind I would go back and do a university course when I left rehab. Whilst in treatment I thought long and hard about what I wanted to do. I found out in group therapy, I seemed to have a gift for getting to the core of what the real issues were my peers were having problems with. I couldn’t always do that for myself but I was praised on my level of awareness so taking a degree in counselling skills seemed like a viable option.

  I gave notice on the tenancy of my flat and my dad helped me to get my furniture into storage. He had been an absolute diamond in sorting out my things. Dad had been so kind.

  When he dropped me off he said, “Listen, Sophie, I don’t want you worrying about anything. You can come home and stay as long as you want when you finish treatment.” I couldn’t comprehend his kindness and didn’t think I deserved it. All I could do was cry and thank him. I thought staying with Dad would help me against temptation around my drinking. My family were being so kind to me and at times I was overwhelmed and moved to tears by their generosity. My selfish drinking nearly destroyed me and now I had to look at the aftermath of what I had done.

  As Kyle had already gone to his mother’s, when I went into treatment I wrote to him there to tell him the relationship was over. It might have been the coward’s way out, but I thought I’d be able to get more down on paper and keep the tone positive. I thought if I spoke to him to discuss it, he would probably try to talk me round or it would end in a slanging match, which was the last thing I wanted. I also phoned his mother Joyce.

  “Hi Joyce, it’s Sophie. I can’t speak for long as we’re only allowed three minutes on the phone but I’m in rehab,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve decided to get help, Sophie. I’ve been so worried about you.” Feeling my eyes welling up with tears, I didn’t want to stay on the line too long.

  “I’m sorry for how things have ended up with Kyle but will you look after him. I know he can’t cope on his own.”

  “Don’t you worry about Kyle. He’ll be okay. I’m surprised you put up with him for as long as you did. Just you concentrate on getting yourself well.”

  It was good to talk to someone who understood both what Kyle could be like as well as having the experience of living with a drink problem. She was an alcoholic who had stopped drinking many years ago, and I liked her straightforward manner.

  I was disappointed about Simon blanking me even if I did think it was for the best so I didn’t contact him either. We hadn’t had closure on our relationship but I imagined he was relieved it was over and the decision to end things had been taken away from him. I suffered from pangs of sadness about him that came over in waves but I knew we could never go anywhere with the relationship and nor did I want it to. Also, I had become more and more uncomfortable with his materialistic values.

  I don’t know what I had been expecting from rehab but it turned out to be nothing like I’d imagined. Although it was only a short period in my life, I came out of the experience a totally different person. I thought given how much it cost it was going to be like staying at a l
uxury spa, spending all my time relaxing and being pampered. Was I in for a shock.

  The building itself was imposing, up a long driveway. I wondered at the time if it was to stop people escaping. Inside, it had an unusually modern atmosphere. The upkeep of the Victorian architecture had been tastefully done. I liked the high ceilings with expert plastering and intricate panelling. On arrival, Deirdre, the counsellor greeted me.

  “Come in, Sophie. We’ve been expecting you.” I thought she was friendly enough, but I found out that was just a ploy. I was thankful I hadn’t tried to sneak any booze in as the first thing they did was a thorough search both on my person and my suitcase. I queried then if I had signed up to a prison regime.

  For a few days, I was on medication to help me detox. This made me spaced out and drowsy so I was left alone during this time. Once the group work started, it was pure hell. There were about twelve of us in the group. I found out sometime later about half were there for drug problems, including prescription drug abuse and half of us were there for alcohol abuse. In the main, we did stick with our own kind, which was a shame. Right from the word go I felt I had made a mistake, and I didn’t want to be there. I planned to walk out on many occasions and it was the fact of how much money I would lose that kept my feet firmly planted on the treatment centre’s grounds.

  It wasn’t easy, being made to get in touch with feelings when you’ve been running away from them all your life. I had to sweep the searchlight of my soul and rid myself of the tormenting ghosts of my past.

  I often likened myself to a broken porcelain mug. Broken because of the experiences I had suffered, porcelain was my sensitive nature and a mug for putting up with the men in my life. Then if I tried to put a drink inside it before long it would go to pieces again. That was the best way to describe how I’d felt lately.

  I thought I’d be treated with compassion for all I’d been through but during my first group session, it felt like everyone picked on me.

  “Does anyone one to start off by telling Sophie what their first impressions of her are?” I felt nervous as I looked around the room at the bunch of people circling me. I expected they were going to break me in gently as it was my first session in the spotlight. How wrong was I. They told me I was selfish, self-centred, egotistical, stubborn, full of self-pity and a martyr and that was just for starters.

  We began to bond as a group and I had a particular soft spot for Liam, a drug dealer from Liverpool and Aaron from Newcastle. Aaron had avoided a prison stint by choosing to come into treatment instead. The two of them looked like they took steroids, which was against the centre’s regulations. I never figured out how they passed the drugs screening when we all got tested each week. They both had large biceps and obviously worked out a lot. Aaron often confided in me he thought he’d made the wrong choice. He thought rehab was far harder than doing time. I was warned in no uncertain terms to stay away from men. I was still smarting and in pain from breaking up with Simon so it wasn’t hard to do that.

  Rita was a heroin addict who’d come up from London for treatment. She always wore her brown hair swept up off her face in a bun. I thought it made her face look harsh, but it did suit her personality. She’d received funding for her treatment and her key worker was pleased with the progress she was making. Until one morning when we came down to breakfast, she’d absconded. Only the day before, she’d told the group a harrowing story.

  With tears in her eyes, she said, “My worst time was when I found Harry, my boyfriend lying dead next to me.” My body shuddered as I listened to her recalling the story.

  “We’d both been using. I suppose he’d had more than me but I hadn’t really taken much notice as I was so out of it myself.” Struggling to allow the words out, she sat in silence for a few moments.

  “I passed out and when I woke up, he was ice cold at my side.” By now, Rita was shedding buckets of tears and I really wanted to go over and give her a hug but she was able to continue. She told the group it was the most horrific experience imaginable and I couldn’t disagree with her. When she finished, the whole room fell silent. Everyone tried to console her that day, and no one gave her a hard time.

  Apparently, that night she told Susie, the girl she shared a room with she was desperate for a fix. The urge was so great Susie hadn’t been able to stop her leaving. Rita was found dead in a doorway two weeks later, having taken a massive overdose. That was a harsh warning to us all.

  Then Susie too paid the ultimate price for a bad decision. Susie was someone like me who was incapable of making good choices with men. She too had a harrowing story in that her twin sister had died in a car accident. Susie was still struggling to come to terms with her grief, even though the incident happened five years earlier. She started a relationship with Neil in treatment which was against the rules, so they were both kicked out.

  We heard they’d both relapsed within about an hour of leaving the centre and Susie was found dead a few weeks later. Her heart and liver packed in and her body shut down due to alcohol poisoning. These events got me worried, and I knew I had to take this seriously. I became a model pupil as best I could. It hurt like hell, looking at myself through a microscope. I understood if I didn’t put all I learnt into practice then I would end up dead too.

  I hung on to my counsellor’s every word and can still recount some of what Deirdre told me today. Her favourite sayings she would reiterate all the time were “This isn’t a dress rehearsal. You’ve got to get real and live your life one day at a time.” She gave everyone a little card with the quote on it: Yesterday’s history, tomorrow’s a mystery, today’s a gift, that’s why we call it the present.

  Slow and painful as things were, my peers and mentors started to see a difference in me. A lot of my agitation disappeared. I became much calmer. I began to smile again. Now I believed in the process and felt I could trust what I was being told, I was prepared to put 110% effort into it. The counsellors kept telling us the hardest part would be when we left treatment. I realised it would be tough. I had given up so much personally to come in.

  Deirdre once laughed and said to me, “You don’t do things by halves, do you, Sophie.”

  I used to think I must have done something bad in a previous life because of all the terrible things that had happened to me but rehab taught me to accept the hand life dealt me. Trouble was I never got the aces. Sometimes, finding gratitude was hard but I could no longer afford to feel sorry for myself.

  I’d realised I had taken some pretty drastic measures when I went into rehab and occasionally suffered from waves of regret about what I had done. Now in the cold light of day, I had to pick up the pieces, sober. I would need money to pay my way through Uni as I didn’t intend subbing off Dad, nor would he let me so I decided I would do accounts for people to tide me over. One of the guys in treatment, Charles had a small IT company and offered to let me do his books, which was a real godsend. From now on, I would be buying clothes from charity shops and being frugal. When I thought of the grotesque amounts of money I’d squandered on booze, being thrifty would help me deal with the guilt I felt.

  The day came when I finished my treatment. I had my graduation which my family came to. My sister even came up from London to be there which really moved me.

  “I’m so proud of you, Sophie.” She gave me a big hug, and we both wiped away a tear. There were lots of tears. Saying goodbye to some of my peers and the counsellors was hard, but I had a new found resolve to change my life for the better.

  It was strange how different things appeared without alcohol in my system. The grass looked greener, the flowers prettier, the birds chirpier. I noticed things about nature I had been oblivious to before. I got into the habit of stopping and watching the sunset and marvelling at its beauty. Life wasn’t going to be easy with no partner to lean on and scary without a job but I had the love of my family, more knowledge about myself than I would have liked and new friends I had made in rehab, plus I was determined to do this.

&nb
sp; Chapter Twenty One

  THEN

  I phoned Kyle’s mum Joyce once I was back in the outside world and she seemed pleased to hear from me. She told me she’d thrown Kyle out after two months. He’d stopped drinking but started taking drugs. She didn’t like the company he kept and thought they led Kyle astray.

  “He would come home reeking of cannabis or skunk or whatever it was, and he never did a thing around the house, no contribution whatsoever, Sophie,” she said.

  “I hope you don’t blame me, Joyce?” I enquired.

  “No, not at all, he’s the one who’s been smoking the stuff plus his behaviour became quite strange, sort of psychotic. He became paranoid about everything and thought everyone was talking about him.” Joyce talked about him in such a matter-of-fact way I hardly believed it was her son we were discussing.

  “Yes, sometimes he got like that with me, thinking the whole world was bothered about what he was doing. You know, when I first sent Kyle the letter ending the relationship, he bombarded me with phone calls. Luckily, I wasn’t allowed my phone at first so the messages with all the abuse on, I deleted and accepted his behaviour was natural for a rejected man. Mind you, over the last couple of weeks he had been sending me disturbing messages saying I owed him money which puzzled me,” I told her.

  “Oh don’t worry about that. He does it all the time. He has had this problem ever since he was beaten up as a teenager and ended up with a fractured skull. It’s like a part of his brain must have been affected,” Joyce said. I was shocked. Kyle told me he received a bad beating once but then hadn’t gone into too many details. It’s as well I didn’t know as I didn’t want anything else to feel guilty about.