Today is Sorry Day. The Prime Minister Kevin Rudd is today apologizing to the Indigenous Population. It’s also a week since I started rehab. I wonder if he will apologise for the Fish Fingers we get fed every Thursday.
"I would like to take this occasion to apologise to Luke Williams, who has been on Television, for being fed peasant food. May this never happen again"
Sorry day is actually a massive day for a current affairs journalist like me to miss. I'd already missed the election and the changing of Government because I was off work. I'd been suspended for work for 4 months. I remember the conversation with my boss. We had a crisis meeting cause I had just stopped filling stories. Sometimes I just didn't turn up to work. When I was at work, I took drugs and cried at my desk. I turned up to the meeting off my guts and without sleep from the night before.
"Luke I'm getting the impression you can't do ur job"
"I'm just going thru a rough patch that's all, give me another couple of weeks to get my life back on track"
"We can't wait anymore. Luke this is having a massive toll on ur colleagues. I cannot have u representing the station when u r in this state"
"Linda, I want to say something. I have always wanted to a dancer"
"What?"
"I'm wondering if Triple J could offer me something as an experimental dancer"
"Luke, I know u r creative and creative people have a lot of problems. Take some time off and go and see ur parents in Bundaberg"
"Linda ur not hearing me, I want to be a dancer"
"Why not be a cowboy instead?"
"Don't want to"
"Well Luke if u don't have the time off we will do a performance review and u will be likely to lose ur job"
And so I agreed. I'm not sure why because at that point in time I just wanted to come up with the smart arsest comment I could think of, I didn't actually care about my job.
Before I left she said
"Over 100 people applied for your job, Luke. We picked up u because u were clever and young and creative and a really go getter. Ur a talented reporter, but I at the moment I think I made a mistake hiring u"
It didn't hurt my feelings then, but when I think about it now it was kind of embarrassing to have my mental illness so exposed. Coming down off drugs is never something I've done well and not something I ever wanted to share with my alpha-female boss.
Now it was Sorry Day and I wanted to prove that my head could around political stuff again. I wanted to prove that my brain could operate at higher levels that just what I looked like and what drugs I was on.
The joy of current affairs is, above all else, u can think about something other that urself.
I prepare a speech for feelings check. I was going to get clapped anyway so I thought I may as well.
I read it out.
"I feel good today because the Government is apologising to the Indigenous People. I know there has been a lot of debate about whether or not sorry helps. I saw its a start and as long as it backed up my policy it can change things. Also, I look at what I've learnt here about addiction, look at the indigenous people and their drinking problems. Their addictions speak measures for the pain and trauma they have experiences. Words can help with that, sorry wont fix everything but its a start"
People didn’t just clap, they cheered and few started chanting my name.
But not everyone is in the mood for a discussion of political issues. A dispute was panning out between Sam and a mentor named James from Villa 3. Apparently, James had threatened Sam because Sam was singing a song he thought was 'drug bragging'. James told Sam he was wasting his time in rehab. At feelings check Sam says "maybe the boys from villa 3 need to purchase a box of toughen-the-fuck-up". Another guy from Villa 3 tells Sam he was "going to get his head punched in". The counselor tells everyone to calm down.
Politics of the abstract kind seems is a bit of a luxury in a place like this.
After admin Polly came up to me and said the speech "was fantastic".
"I think ur awesome Luke, I'd love us to be roommates."
"We would have lots of fun" I said
"Did I tell u I’m leaving this week?"
"No"
"Well I am. I think I'm ready to go, I’ve healed a lot here. And Luke, if you put in lots of effort you can heal stuff as well"
Shirley is late to morning class so we all sat around talking. A new woman, Margie, a bubbly, happy-looking obese alcoholic monopolises the conversation. She sits next to Mick, the new guy fresh from Drug Court.
"Did u hear about the guy on the news who got stabbed" she asks us "Well it happened in Woodridge, right near my old house. He got stabbed 12 times, a couple of times in the eye and he still lived. It made my stomach turn. I hate stabbings" she says kind of shaking it off with her shoulders like a chill.
Nick joins in
"That doesn’t surprise me I was walking out of a servo in Woodridge once and an Aboriginal dude was walking past me. For no reason, he reached over to me and gave me this really soft punch. I turned around as if to say 'what the fuck was that supposed to be' when I looked down I had a knife sticking out of me, blood was pissing out" he says.
"Why did he do it?" Margie asks
"I have no idea"
"You didn’t provoke it?"
"Nah"
"So he attacked u, cause what he was jealous of u?"
"Must have"
"He must of been jealous of gorgeous looks and your brilliant personality, so he stabbed u"
Margie turns to me and winks.
She's bright red all around her neck, I assume from alcohol and high cholesterol. She breaks out in a smile and so do I and then she cackles like a drunkard witch.
"I’ve heard all the girls think you are just adorable here, Luke" she says "U r soooo cute"
I feel good. I feel in with the boys and in with the girls. I feel I could express my opinion without being shouted down. I feel like people get me.
90% of people with addictions have a mental illness. Most people with a mental illness self-harm.
I was not the token weirdo anymore. I fitted. I'd been accepted into the cult.
James from Villa 3 comes up to me and broke my self-congratulatory thinking.
"Ive just heard on the news, many Aboriginal people dont think sorry will help" he had a smug look on his face
"As long as its backed-up by good policy James, otherwise it wont work"
Lunchtime and his argument with Sam has settled. Now they are mates. I have to admire the way guys can let an argument just flare down and all is forgiven. I wish girls were like that.
The guys in 'the Bronx' are catching on to how disgusting I think farting is. They started purposefully farting around me. This afternoon three of men come in and fart in my room one after the after.
"Can you get me the milk?" one the jailbirds asks me in the kitchen and then farts at the end of the sentence "that was a please" he says.
I pick up a knife and start chasing him around the kitchen.
"U dirty fucking cunt. How dare u fart in front of me"
It's a joke. But it's also meant to be kind of serious. As if to say, 'I might be a fag, but I can stab as well'.
Friday. Graduation Day. Polly is graduating after completing 8 weeks of the 12 week program.
While I like Polly a lot, it seems she is not all-together popular.
Nearly everyone who gets up for the goodbye speeches talked about difficult she was when she first arrived.
"You hide behind your intellect" A counselor says "It's a facade and your tough facade was a coping mechanism. I saw right through it. I saw your pain and trauma and now I think its ok for you to live your life just as you".
Shirley gets up and says "Your tough facade is about survival, it was a successful way to stop u from being hurt. Polly, I just want to tell you, you don’t need to be protecting yourself all the time. You don’t need to be that tough in this world"
Polly's son is at the graduation - he's about 13, dressed in his private school uniform. He seems well spoken and smart just like his Mum.
Apparently, I hadn’t been around when Polly was being a bitch. But by the sounds of things she was fierce. Word has it just went off at a couple of the tough jailbirds one day and left a few with some nasty psychological scars.
The graduation makes me think about the word of the day -facades. My world, the media and the club scene encourage facades. Those with the toughest, best decorated facades tend to rise to the top. I wonder how much I had a facade. I wonder if the counselors or anyone else can see right through me as well.
'I'm so grateful to be here, for some reason' I think to myself
Evening time and I sit around the villa and everything is perfect. It's a perfect Queensland summer evening. It's Friday Night. Friday nights like this were perfect for going out clubbing. I imagine myself out going silly, picking up hot boys, taking drugs. I fantasise and fantasise until I walk outside and see Wayne and say.
"If I had a line in front of me right now I would take it"
"Me too" he said
"I really feel like going out"
He doesn't say anything. He just stares ahead.
I feel like things are kind of spinning. I feel out of it.
I want to go out. I want to go out. I want to go out. My head is spinning and I want to go.
I need drugs
I need drugs
I need drugs
I want to smoke my meth pipe again.
I need it now
I need it now
I need it now
I want the rush, the euphoria - I wanted that amazing superman feeling of being wonderful and strong and popular and gorgeous and bad. Who needs psychotherapy when u have crystal meth anyway?
I feel like smoking meth.
I feel awful.
A perfect night is a trigger for me to get fucked-up.
I try a technique we learned in class - 'urge surfing'. Basically u acknowledge the urge and ride it out. I try it, I ride out the urge. I hate this feeling.
I hate the fact that yes, it seems, I am indeed a drug addict.
I am an addict.
An addict.
I'm one of those addicts.
The boys in the villa tell me to ride it out. They tell me to be strong. They tell me I am doing the right thing by being here. They tell me they will sing songs on the guitar to make me feel better.
Damien puts his hand on my shoulder
"You can beat this" he says.
And I do. I ride it out.
Feelings check and I thank everyone for their support. Elizabeth gives me a feel-better letter cause she had caught wind of what had happened. She is sweet as apple pie. I stick the letter on my wall. On the wall of the rehab centre full of drug addicts - full of those people- people like me.
Meds time and Renee says she wants to read the classic.
I offer my copy of Crime and Punishment
She takes it and says she will start reading it straight away.
Later I see her again.
"I’ve read about sixty pages" she says "I think I get it. He commits a horrible crime and his punishment is own conscience. His own conscience torments him until he goes mad.
"Thanks for the heads up" I says "I struggle with writers like Dostoevsky"
Morning time and its feeling check. Mel attempts to fight her way back into the cult
"I didnt dob Sandy and Danielle in. The person who did it here today and has let me sit here and suffer and take the wrap''
Everyone claps. I scan the room to see if I anyone looks guilty. No-one really does.
I go to the Doctors with Manic letter-writing Elizabeth. Sweet old Elizabeth is having a bad today. Its hard to seperate a person from their mental illness. When did you know somebody is having a depressive episode and when do they just have an attitude problem?
Today, she has big black circles around her eyes. She has that mad-librarian look about her again.
She complains about the staff, she complains about having to do housework, she complains about Saturday Morning chores and she complains about the 'bitchiness' in the girls villa.
Elizabeth has gone to the Doctor nearly everyday since she arrived 10 days ago. She's got a bad back, a bad knee, headaches and now diabetes. She might be a hypochondriac. In fact, I thought it kind of fitted that she took Phenergan - a non-prescription medication even when she didn’t need it. She is constantly in need of treatments and remedies for something she cant seem to fix - her own fucked-up thoughts.
Margie overhears some of our conversation. She comes over to me and whispers "Maree just needs a make -over and a root. She needs to lighten up and stop dressing like a 70 year old.
Indeed, it was starting to seem like the bitchy women here were making people on the gay club scene look like Christian Missionaries.
Danielle and Sandy are still playing on my mind. I have to know who dobbed them in. I have used my journalistic abilities, I go in for the kill.
"How r u feeling about Danny and Sandy?'' I ask Maree
"I think its sad, I cant believe that person dobbed her in"
"So u know who it was?''
''Yep''
I didn’t want to be obvious so I let an awkward silence ensue.
"I wont tell you" she says "But if u guess, I'll tell you"
Nice one Elizabeth
"So it wasn’t Mel?"
"No"
"Penny?"
"No"
"Christy?"
"No"
I can't think of anyone else.
"Oh what about Renee?"
"Yep, it was Renee!"
"Really"
"Yep
I couldn’t believe it was Renee, the lovely little literary flakey hippie chick.
What would she have to gain by doing something like that? It doesn't make sense. I think Renee and Crime and Punishment.
If she had committed that crime, her conscience would be something that left her undone. Unless she was a dead set sociopath which I don't think she is.
I am going to cautious about Renee and suspicious about Elizabeth.
I don't know who or what to believe, but to survive in here I will have to very careful about who I align myself with.
Apparently I do give shit about politics again.
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