My Story Part 1: @ deaths door.

(2 minute read)

Six days and three seizures into a relapse. I was taken to the ER via ambulance for a third time. After stabilization, I UBERed home where I had rum waiting for me (addicts plan ahead). The mixture of Librium, Ativan, and captain Morgan put me right back into a blackout. My roommate Robert found me, and saved my life. 

...I feel like in the last ten years, addiction has become a much less polarizing discussion. I think that partly, it's not so taboo because people are realizing it is infact a mental illness, and mental illness can affect anyone. 

I also feel like we're headed in a positive direction when I see "normies" deciding to choose LOVE over JUDGEMENT. In fact, every time you do this normies, an angel in heaven gets wings and a shelter puppy finds a home. So keep doing your part.

When Robert found me on the floor of our apartment, he could have chosen judgement and said "better not be drinking away your half of the rent". And continued with his day. Instead, he chose love and said "NATHAN! IM JUST REACHING IN YOUR POCKET TO GET YOUR WALLET SO I CAN BUY YOU A PLANE TICKET TO REHAB! YOU'RE IN BAD SHAPE BUT IM GETTING HELP BUDDY HOLD ON." 

...Hours later, that plane actually had to land in SeaTac where an ambulance met it on the tarmac to take me to the hospital a fourth time. I blew a .42 in that highline emergency room HOURS after my last drink. That was the 3rd ER doctor in my lifetime to look me in the eyes and say 

"You shouldn't be living". 

You see, the ER gives seizing alcoholics Ativan on discharge to prevent "after shocks". Ativan mixed with alcohol is lethal. And I had unwittingly and drunkenly taken the entire bottle of Ativan between that 3rd and 4th ER trip (about 24 hours). 

So, without a doubt. I feel that Roberts love, non-stigmatic outlook on addiction, and his over-sized heart, saved my life. 

Sometimes love is having a hard conversation. Sometimes, it's setting boundaries. Sometimes, it's sticking your hand in your heterosexual roommates front pocket looking for money🤷🏻‍♂️

The moral of the story is, don't hang a sign on the addict. You don't have to understand, just rewire your brain to choose love over judgement. You might save a life.

Thanks Robert and thank you to all my family and friends who have helped me, it takes a village. 

Authored November 16th 2019