Rehab 1-staying clean

My wife and girls picked me up from the HH during the first week of February to take me home. I was very nervous to go home. everyone makes a plan before they leave rehab. they read it in front of the group and the group makes comments and suggestions. Once everyone signs off, including counselors and the director of the Hospital, you graduate. My plan was great. I knew there was not a chance in hell that I would be able to follow it. It included a minimum of 90 meetings in 90 days, finding a sponsor, calling 2 sober friends a day, sober activities with sober groups from the rehab, finishing the 12 steps and so on and so on. It was impossible for me to complete this plan and I knew it. I just told them what they wanted to hear so I could graduate. I knew I wasn't ready to leave, but you only get 28 days. That's it. Dont get me wrong, I really wanted to stay clean. I thought I could do it and I really planned on it. I still didn't feel well, I felt like shit the whole time. Everyone would say doesn't it feel good to have a clear head and I would agree, but my head never, ever felt clear. My bones ached all the time, especially my thighs. It wouldn't go away. I would lay awake and massage my legs for hours but nothing helped. I was also scared to go home and face the life that I had left. I had left quite a wake when I disappeared. I didn't know how I was going to make a living, I didn't know how my family was going to react to me. I didn't know what would happed with my friends, neighbors, everybody. I just didn't know what to expect. I worried a lot about my girls at school. Were they being teased, were other kids gossiping behind their backs? I am sure they were but my girls showed me nothing but love. I knew that my wife was not going to go for me putting so much time into my recovery. All those meetings, hanging out with a new group of people whose lifestyles she hated. Even when they were clean. She was supportive to a point, as far as being there for me, yes. But as far as me leaving the house, no way. It was always a struggle.
I pretty much just stayed home for the first couple of weeks and went to meetings and was a dad and husband. We were living off money we got from the sale of a lot that I had bought with the money from a second mortgage I had taken out on our house. We weren't making the payments on either Mortgage. Just waiting for them to come and take the house. Someone had told my wife that taxes or the government would take the money if we still had it when or if we filed bankruptcy or repo'd our house. So my wife was on a huge spending spree. She had refurnished the house with nice stuff. New wardrobes, everything. Whatever. She would always call it her money, she had her own checking account and it was hers to do what she wanted. At that point I could say nothing, she was the poor little housewife who was standing by her man. I think it was a role she actually enjoyed in a wierd way. But it was fine, I had screwed up. There were a lot of reasons I put myself in that position and she was a part of many of those reasons. I tried to talk to her about it but she was having none of it. It was all my fault. and she was perfect. I shouldn't say that, she is a good wife and mother. I am going to stop on that subject right now.
I tried everything to get feeling better. I was going to a lot of meetings. I was going walking. Playing golf with my little brother, just trying to change my life and who I hung out with. My good friends were very supportive. I had started working for my little brothers friend. It was a sales position. I probably should have gone back to what I know, heating and A/C. It was too early to go back to work but I had to make a living. I still wasn't feeling well and I felt pressure talking to people I didn't know every day. On my birthday, March 2nd I called Mike and told him it was my B-Day and I was ready for a B-Day OC. At first, he said he couldn't get any. I called bullshit and he finally admitted he had some but didn't want to sell me any. I finally talked him into it. I remember as I was driving to pick up I actually started to feel better. It's wierd, even when you are jonesing your ass off, once the shit is in your hand you feel better. He tried to talk me out of it for a while but he finally relented and sold me a few 40's and 2-80's. I chopped a whole 80 up and ripped it. I immediately felt great. That was a great weekend.
that is all for now, I have to go.
peace.