2 Years On...

September 2024

Recovery Story: Jat

"I’m standing at a traffic intersection along Geylang Road, phone in hand, eyes on the online casino, praying for a 20 or 21 at the blackjack table."

Recovery stories are often about triumph, but what's not shared a lot (except in closed, 12 step meetings) is how painful some days can be. And how painful some experiences can be. I'd like to shed some light on that, and talk about the pains of recovery - not the pains before recovery, but during.  

It's been a little more than 2 years, and people outside of recovery always ask me - do you miss it?  

The instinctive answer is yes. I feel it every time I walk past people having some beer, or chance on a video of someone online in America or Europe smoking weed. I feel it every time I overhear my family talking about the Hong Bao Toto draw. I feel it almost every day.   

How can you not miss something that's biologically designed to make you feel good? 

Sure, I do get a little in my feelings, but the difference now that I'm in recovery is that the following thought is always: I won't be able to control myself. This is accompanied by thoughts of all the harm I've caused. 

And it stops me. 

This is one of the biggest benefits of being in recovery and going for counselling.  

I've been made aware of all the bad things that my brain chose to discount when I was using and gambling. It's human nature to focus on the good things and forget the bad. This isn't exclusive to addicts, it's just basic human nature. It's just that addicts have an extra effective way of magnifying the good parts and an extra efficient way of suppressing the bad. Addicts want it turned up to 100 all the time, and don't know when to stop.  

About the good things - there’s a constant battle for supremacy in my mind. It’s a daily tug of war between the rational and irrational, and when there’s a trigger or urge - team irrational starts with a sizable advantage. In those moments, I fortunately have a bunch of tools I can use to turn the tables.  

2 years on, it doesn’t feel so much like a war anymore. In active addiction and the early days of recovery, however, it sure felt like I was fighting for my life. And that’s what led me to recovery - a complete surrender in trying to win the battle on my own. I walked into WE CARE defeated. 

Now that I’ve shared about what I miss, it would make sense to share what I don’t miss. This is just one thing about the past that my brain automatically discounts every time there’s a trigger or urge. Picture this:  

I’m standing at a traffic intersection along Geylang Road, phone in hand, eyes on the online casino, praying for a 20 or 21 at the blackjack table.  

There are 20 minutes left in my lunch break, and if I don't win the next two hands where I'll be going all in on both hands (quadrupling my money is the only way I’ll have enough), I'll face going through the rest of the week with no money to my name. Worse - I’ll also have to go through a few days of extreme opioid withdrawals (think a hangover, but 100 times more agonizing).  

If I win both two hands, I’ll have enough to cover things just for that day. I’ll quickly take my winnings to the dealer down the road and get my supply for the day, and rush back to office. 

Tomorrow is another day, another battle. 

Now think about going through that 7 days a week, every week, for a few years. Sure, there are days where I’m “lucky” enough to be on a winning streak, but any extra money I gain doesn’t last. Winnings from gambling goes to the pills, and with the pills: The more I have, the faster they finish. There's no sense of rationing because the goal is to turn things up to 100 every day, on two fronts. I am, after all, cross-addicted to drugs and gambling.  

To the layman, this seems incredible and unrealistic, but that was my life. I’d always resolve to not repeat the same mistake. To be more prudent with my money. But every month, before I could catch myself, I’d be scrambling again at the same traffic intersection. I really knew better, but I just. Could. Not. Stop.  

The cycle of stress, anxiety and depression was extremely exhausting - so when I look back at those times, then the answer is “No, I don’t miss it.”. 

This article, however, isn't just about the pains or how I miss the good times. It's also about how life has become more fun, and how I now have better times. I never thought I'd say it, but here I am.  

It feels like I've unlocked a new level in life, and I'm achieving things I never thought I would. I recently got a second diploma (which I completed with a 4.0 GPA) and feel like I'm just getting started. I definitely never thought of doing a second diploma, and never thought the day would come where I’d have paid off my legal moneylender and credit card debts. 

Well, these two things have become reality. My reality now, is beyond my wildest dreams and it’s all because I’m in recovery. I’m more present in my loved ones’ lives, and I’m in an incredibly fulfilling relationship.  

I could go on all day about how life has become better but I won’t - if you need more convincing, just flip the page and look at the smiles throughout this newsletter. 

2 of the most important things I’ve learnt in recovery is that life is not perfect - it’ll never be, and that the world doesn’t revolve around me.  

Believe it or not, for how imperfect my life was in the past, I was extremely perfectionistic. It was all or nothing, and I constantly wanted it all. Accepting that life was not perfect was tough, but with this refreshed perspective, my world isn’t rocked so hard anymore when things go wrong.  

I’ve gotten to a point in recovery where acceptance comes fairly quickly, and it all comes from the strong foundation I laid here in WE CARE.  

2 years on, I’ve just turned 32, grateful for the 2 things I feel I’ve taken way too long to learn.   

 

by Jat 

Jat began as a beneficiary at WE CARE before joining our staff. He is currently part of the Comms team.