Connection Is The Opposite Of Addiction

Before I got sober, the time that I felt most alone was when I was surrounded by others.

I remember vividly, one day, I was sitting in my room alone thinking about how badly I wanted to die. I was crying. I was unstable. I was high. I felt hopeless. I felt alone. I didn't know what to do. I thought my best course of action would be to surround myself with others.

When I walked into the room, my friends were lively, vibrant, watching sports, being loud, laughing and enjoying themselves. I tried to join in on the laughter and the talkativeness but in my head, I could not escape the feeling of loneliness, sadness, hopelessness. Not only that, but nobody in the room that I was with knew what I had just come from dealing with, that the ideas of suicide had been ruminating in my head all day.

To me, that was what ultimate loneliness felt like. It was being in a room surrounded by people that had no idea what I was going through. This was much worse than sitting in a room physically alone because at least I didn't need to hide the way that I felt. When I was in these rooms, surrounded by other people, I had to put my mask on. I showed up in a way that I thought other people might accept me.

The time when I felt the most okay when surrounded by others was when I was smoking weed or drinking alcohol. This was because when I was intoxicated, even I forgot the things that I was dealing with. I no longer felt like an outsider, I no longer thought about the fact that nobody knew what was going through my head.

Eventually though, my drinking and using got so out of hand that people started making comments to me about the amount that I drank or the amount that I was using. Either that, or they didn't want to hang out with me when I was intoxicated because of the behaviours that came with it. I was not surrounded by other drug addicts and alcoholics. I was surrounded by a bunch of college kids that were partying like college kids. I was not. I had the underlying mental health problems. I was not just drinking or using for fun. I was doing it for much deeper reasons.

I was partying like there was something I was trying to forget.

I say this, but in reality, I had no clue what my friends at the time were going through. I don't know what they were dealing with. I don't entirely know why they were doing what they were doing.

I think this is the biggest problem.

My closest friends didn't know anything about me. My friends that I had known my whole life. We never talked about anything deep. I never asked any of my friends about their deepest, darkest fears. For guys, that stuff is viewed as "soft". We never talked about any of that.

They only knew what they could see.

Eventually, my behaviours led to interpersonal conflicts between my friends and I and at the time, I blamed my feelings of loneliness on them. I decided I would be better off isolating and doing drugs. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Of course, after much reflection, I know that I was the problem all along. I didn't know how to connect with other people. I didn't know how to be vulnerable. I didn't know how to confide in others.

Eventually, when I finally made it to treatment, I again had the preconceived notions that nobody there would be like me. It was quite paradoxical, but I didn't think anyone would understand what I was going through and I also didn't think that I was "bad" enough to be there. As soon as I met the other clients while I was in rehab, I realized that this was all contempt prior to investigation. In reality, I was right where I belonged. For the first time in my life, I didn't need substances to feel like I fit in.

I had people to talk to about what I was struggling with. I was able to listen to other people's problems and relate. We would often sit around a table with no phones, and nothing to do but talk to each other. Usually, something that came up in group therapy during the day would be brought up and we would get super deep with one another.

It's awesome how vulnerability breeds vulnerability. When I saw other people getting vulnerable, it made it seem like it's okay for me to get vulnerable as well.

The community that we were in was the most emphasized part of the treatment centre that I went to. It was all about showing up for each other, supporting each other in between sessions, hanging out, chatting, advocating for each other, listening to each other, being honest with each other, playing games with each other and so on.

I went from isolating myself because I felt nobody understand and feeling the most alone when being surrounded by others to being surrounded by like minded people who actually understood what I was going through. It was so foreign to me. It was so cool. I think that describes it best. It was cool. It was new. It was what I was searching for my whole life. To be apart of something. Who would've thought that being in rehab would've been the place I found it? Honestly, probably a lot of people, but definitely not me.

My whole life, I was searching for connection. Ironically, I spent my life searching for connection, but instead I found isolation. Recovery gave me what I was looking for. Addiction brought me in the complete opposite direction.