i just do not feel comfortable going somewhere for 30 days without being around family/friends every single day
IME, no one does. I sure didn't. If those mere thirty days result in a lifetime of self-fulfillment and freedom from chemical dependency, however, I believe it would really behoove you to weight the pros and cons of not being around friends and family for a month. Once you've actually entered treatment, the days fly by as your brain and body detoxify and your un-muted self begins to speak to you again.
I have been to two inpatient treatment programs in my life - one lasted 11 days, and was poorly run and I found it simple to con my way through. However, this was probably partially due to the fact that I was, in no way/shape/form, ready to accept the naked truth about my drug addiction. I certainly had no true desire to quit, then. And thus, it was useless - an eleven day waste of insurance, my family's patience and my self-esteem.
The second time I went was for 37 days. I went to The Caron Foundation in Pennsylvania, and I believe there is one in Houston, TX, too. It is a pristine facility, one of the highest rated in the entire country, and provided ample daily support while I was in withdrawal from nasty concurrent benzodiazepine and heroin addictions.
My experience can be summed up relatively briefly.
My picture was taken. This was for the purpose of comparison between my initial intake and how I looked on my release date. At the time, I felt that it was a strange approach - but my
god, the difference 37 days made!! I looked like a new human being - a
live human being. To this day, I think that the photo system is a strange and very positive initiative.
The units were divided by age and gender. At the time, I was 19 years old and was on the unit relegated to 12-21years of age. In my case, my side was all males.
Over the days and weeks, we all came to be true pals. Towards the end, it was incredible to watch new admissions enter - wide-eyed and afraid, as no doubt I was, too - and grow/mature to the point where they felt comfortable expressing their deepest secrets, darkest moments and most sincere desires to get and remain sober.
The staff were amazing, too. All of them were recovering addicts with stories that amazed and compelled us. They were dynamic individuals, and were some of our best confidants throughout the weeks.
We had groups each night where we would go around the room of about twenty guys, each discussing where we felt we were. Input was welcome from other group members; it was essentially an open-discussion where we could think critically about an incomprehensibly devastating disease that had, in some way, taken us all out in the recent past. There were times, of course, when the issues we discussed got heated. In retrospect, as angering as it was to be called out on one's bullshit, the feeling of anger was the emotional archway when, once passed through a sufficient number of times, opened the floodgates for properly experiencing the remaining spectrum of human emotions that we found we had collectively shunned from existence through the use of drugs. By the tenth day, I felt reborn. We called it the "Pink Cloud," where our minds were beginning to open back up to us - and the feeling was
indescribable. It represented the point at which I became enthused with the idea of staying sober. Pink clouds do not last forever, as they warp and change to meet our own personal failures and achievements - but it was a wonderful time and felt like the embrace of sanity that had so often eluded me in the years prior to entering treatment.
We had visitations on weekends from family and friends, could receive packages and letters (as well as send/write them ourselves), and had ample time to explore outdoor activities, movies, bowling and other tangible ways to interact with the real world whilst under the supervision of staff who kept those of us who acted out in line and provided repositories of moving experience that we all found comfort in listening to.
At some point, when I had demonstrated a good level of active participation in the programming within the facility, I was granted the right to go off-campus with my peers and staff and attend AA and NA meetings in a nearby city. This was a great way to introduce us to the real world of remaining vigilant and active in the quest for continuous sobriety, and made attending these meetings after treatment inexplicably easier, since I had been exposed to it before.
Afterwards, I enrolled in an IOP program for several months to ensure that I did not immediately slip back into my old ways. Thirty days *seems* like an eternity by day 1, but at day 30, it's truly common for one to still be so fragile that relapsing is very easy. The first year, in fact, is considered by many to be of critical importance - for it is what you do with your time in that first year (actively participating in new ways of life and self-exploration vs. merely remaining, to the best of your ability, just abstinent).
In summation, I really applaud you for even
considering, however seriously, the option of an inpatient treatment facility. Without it, I would never have remained clean and sober for the time that I did, and I sure as shit would not have known where to turn after my most recent relapse (which I owe the past five and a half months of my life clean to - I stayed sober for 3 years after Caron, relapsed and stayed out for 3 years, and am now back. But the time I amassed before was not "lost" in the sense of it having been a waste of time. I know what to do now and what footwork comes in handy in various situations).
I can't recall a single guy on our unit who wasn't frightened in the beginning. Fear motivates us. Without fear, I would not be alive today.
I wish you the most sublime journey to rediscover yourself. You'd be suprised at the delightment you will likely feel once you're
able to "feel," again.
Good luck and best wishes
~ Vaya
