How Intensive Outpatient Treatment Prepared Me for Life

Drug Detox. Drug Rehab. Intensive Outpatient Treatment. They have an almost negative connotation. Or at least they did to me for a while. To some of my acquaintances and even family, they are still a brow raising topic of discussion. More realistically, they’re not a voluntary topic of discussion. Stigmas seem contagious, and there’s no shortage of opinions in the world about rehab. Both weighed pretty heavily on me leading up to my decision to enter drug addiction treatment. I got double the brow raises because I ended up doing the rehab → IOP combo…And stayed for 17 months.

“Did something traumatic happen to you that we don’t know about?”
“Can’t you just quit on your own?”
“So it’s like a halfway house? Is it safe?”
“Have you heard about all the health insurance fraud in the ‘recovery’ business?”

Don’t get me wrong—most of my family, including my mom, dad, and sister, were supportive and relieved I was finally going. I was killing myself with drugs and alcohol, and progressing at an unprecedented rate during my last year out there. One day graduating valedictorian of high school, voted by my class as most likely to succeed, and in what felt like the blink of an eye, living at home, at age 26, all bridges burnt, all resources exhausted, begging my 16 year old neighbor to deliver weed to my house because my parents had just taken my car keys away and it was miles to get to the nearest convenience store for booze (I’d made the trek before—but during this specific instance there were two feet of snow on the ground during a nor’easter and I’d already scraped my bowl of its gooey resin).

Those stigmas from others—or even my delusional perception that they were there—gave way to contempt prior to investigation. I felt pitied by my acquaintances. I felt like I was embarking on some dark undertaking that would forever ruin my image—that version of myself I liked the world to see. I liked the paper version of myself: the good grades, the college degree, the happy Instagram account, depicting shiny moments that shrouded my misery. I thought of how people must be talking about me, thinking I was such a loser, or how they didn’t see it coming when I was a kid. That I must have had something traumatic happen to slide so far down the scale, pull a complete 180 in a matter of a few years.

And that’s the thing. Maybe it would have been easier to go if I did have a traumatic event occur. But I didn’t. Quite simply, I just loved the effects produced by alcohol and drugs. I loved them more than anyone, or anything else.

Uppers made me study harder, downers made me chill harder, mushrooms made me think harder, drinking made me party harder. And each experience was epic. Until it wasn’t. I pushed the envelope and ended up in grave situations where I should have ended up dead, or killing someone else. I became a loose cannon, physically, emotionally and spiritually sick. And I didn’t like the fact that I failed at trying to quit every single time. I felt weak and helpless for the first time in my life.

So I made the leap. Here are some of the things I learned in drug rehab and intensive outpatient that prepared me for life.

1. That it’s OK to take my time, and that consistent hard work pays off.

I didn’t notice a lot of progress until I was a couple of months into a program. When you’re in an inpatient program, it’s literally impossible to drink because you’re supervised all the time. I felt stable there, but wouldn’t it be a big jump to go right back to trying to live on my own? I took the transitional sober living/ IOP route so that I could slowly integrate back into the “real world.” It was a good bridge between the two because I still had therapy and meeting commitments, but also time and freedom to come and go as I pleased. When I finally decided to get my own place, my routine was so solid that the thought of drinking hasn’t occurred to me since I moved out. When it’s cemented like that over time, it goes off the table as an option. Today, I apply the same logic I learned in intensive outpatient to my job, habits, and my relationships with others. One day at a time, with daily mini-goals, working to achieve my long term goals. Time is an asset if I work hard every day, and show grit on the tough ones. Impatience makes me suffer. I’ve learned the importance of embracing the journey and living in the moment, instead of always rushing to the next thing.

2. That isolating isn’t a sign of independence and self-sufficiency, and that being vulnerable is more than OK—it’s how we as humans connect on an authentic level.

I was lonely and felt “different” before entering treatment. I thought it was cool that I didn’t mind spending time alone, even as a kid. My social skills and emotional intelligence got some serious exercise in IOP. All of my peers were a tight-knit group and I’d never experienced such real talk and vulnerability before. I try to take that authenticity and openness to all my relationships now. Group therapy taught me how to be more real, and that vulnerability is one of the most primal ways humans can actually connect. Instead of floating along as a bitter party of one, I care about others and strive to make meaningful connections. I don’t worry about sharing my struggles, or what so and so is going to think of me if I do. It’s a work in progress, but socializing in a meaningful way wasn’t one of my priorities pre-sobriety, and now I recognize its value.

3. That drug addiction and alcoholism affect every demographic, and it’s a progressive disease.

I was shocked that my therapist was also in recovery, and had recently celebrated 10 years. Most of the staff was in recovery, too. I guess it was all those senseless stigmas that had crowded out any open-mindedness I had left before I got sober. It gave me more confidence to see that I wasn’t alone, and that people could be so successful in sobriety. I met business owners, doctors, entrepreneurs, college students, free thinkers, and people with big goals at meetings. The cycle of inspiring one another is truly astounding. I try to spread that confidence by talking about it openly, something that would have scared the sh** out of me before. I also learned that it’s a progressive disease. All those fun times I had at parties in my younger years helped me justify that I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I realized that getting worse over time is how it happens for many others, too.

4. How to be an accountable person of action, not words.

Sponsor, meetings, groups, therapy—there’s a lot of accountability in IOP. There’s a clear-cut regiment that they say works if you work it. I learned the importance of making and sticking to commitments, following direction from people with more time than me, and that applies to every aspect of my life today. I learn to level my pride, remain teachable and make realistic commitments then see them through. It’s a work in progress, of course, but I had no concept of reliability before going through a program. People actually ask me to babysit their kids today. To housesit. To watch their dogs. I pay my bills on time. I write everything down in an agenda. Mind blowing to me, every time. It’s all because I learned how to be accountable and the importance of keeping a consistent regiment in IOP—show up when I say I’m going to show up, do what I say I’m going to do, and stay active. I learned that words are nothing without action.

5. That humility and gratitude are key and without them I can’t be happy.

I had struggled with bouncing between terribly low self-esteem and then cocky over-confidence before working a program of recovery. It never made sense to me. I was either feeling invincible or less than. In IOP group therapy the word “humility” came up a lot. I learned about it. I learned about how to have a “right-sized” view of myself, and to not rest on my laurels (something I loved to do before. Did I mention I was valedictorian of high school?). Also, there’s really nothing that gratitude can’t fix. I learned how to show gratitude instead of throwing out empty “thank you”s, and to count my blessings daily. It’s paid off big time in my family relationships, friendships and my overall spin on life.
It’s all a work in progress, and I have people who hold me accountable each day as long as I remain willing and receptive to their help. As long as I’m continuing to put effort into my sobriety, apply what I’ve learned and seek to learn more, I’m confident that drug rehab and IOP will continue to pay off in gold.

“The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.”

-Socrates