Looking at the Stars

"Looking at the Stars.

When the day came to go to the Community, I felt scared, withdrawn and sad. It had taken a long time to result in this drastic action to remedy where my life had been going so dreadfully wrong. It seemed like the last ten years of pure chaos had all been to culminate to this fateful day. My parents drove me down and went along the A road, through the pretty little villages south of Warwickshire and into North Oxfordshire, through Shakespeare country and driving through places like the super-affluent Henley. These totems of middle England seemed so far away from the council estates and red brick skylines that made up Nottingham and the Midlands.

Although I suppose part of me wanted to run back to my flat in St Anns it was like I'd signed an inner contract with myself that I'd see this venture through. My desire to use drugs had past the cravings stage as it had been 6 weeks since I left Nottingham. I didn't know who I was anymore and although I knew that this was a long term intervention ' I still couldn't life in the medium to long term as substance free. Hopefully I was hoping that the programme would change that and fundamentally change my attitudes, feelings and belief systems. My use of drugs was far more than just a physical or emotional problem, it was to do with my whole view of life itself and drugs I knew would always be there to bypass the dull reality of how I viewed absolutely everything in general.

I had little in the way of conversation with my Mum and Dad on the way down. My Mum was giving me the usual platitudes of how brave this was of me and how proud of me she was. Even my Dad was thinking now that the length of the programme and its intensity would perhaps achieve the change required and I could live as far as possible a life that could be called normal and achieve some degree of happiness. I liked to wind my parents up on long car journeys with my outrageous views on life, the universe and religion (they were born again Christian's ' who had less knowledge of the bible that myself¦¦), this time I just didn't have either the inclination or energy. Looking back at my feelings during that day ' it wasn't of strength or hope ' it was one of pure defeat. The community was the only option I felt that I had and I was still resentful and very reluctant. The decision had been mine and a painful one; it was one I surely wasn't going to relish.

Eventually when we arrived I got my Dad to help get my stuff out of the car. We lugged the suitcases and bags to the admissions unit and a resident let them know I'd arrived. I went in and saw Rowan waiting for me smiling, "You've made it at Last¦.I'm so pleased, well done¦¦.Where are you parents.
I told them I told them to wait in the car, Sally the other lady that worked in admissions looked puzzled why they hadn't come in. Seeing lots of other residents later on their first days it was often a time of tears and sad goodbyes. "They can come in if you like you know¦¦
"No thanks, that won't be necessary¦¦. I already told my parents I wanted them to make as little fuss as possible. I nipped out quickly told them that all was OK and that I was fine and told them to go on their way. I ignored my Dad, but did spare a kiss for my Mum. I didn't bother to wave as they turned round and their car slowly went down the drive. Feelings wise, I just felt terrible ' the idea of me sacrificing my liberty for a year or more was one of the most depressing things I'd ever had to concede. All the more frustrating was that I'd made this sad choice entirely of my own volition. I was determined to see this venture through, even tho the goal of getting off drugs and returning to normal society seemed at best distasteful. I just kept praying that hopefully this would change and I'd soon be seeing things in an entirely different light once I'd started to work on myself during the programme.

As I sat in the admissions unit, talking to Rowan and drinking luke warm coffee I even felt physically weak and sickly. I was so scared and felt so trapped ' the feelings of depression continued and led me to become very withdrawn during the first week or two of me starting the programme.

Much of the first few days I can't really remember. I think I was so scared and petrified that it affected my mental health. Apparently people told me that I didn't smile for days and was as quiet as a mouse, which was to contradict the rest of my behaviour during the weeks I stayed there. The programme was based around full participation in every aspect that was asked of you and during the first two weeks (the safety net period) there were obviously far more minimal expectations, but it was still encouraged. I did to my credit try and do as much as I possibly could, no matter how despondent and ill at ease I felt.

From arrival I was put on what's termed the 'Safety Net' period, which was the first phase of the programme that lasted approximately two weeks. Safety was a difficult period in itself mostly for the reason is that everywhere you went you were followed around by another resident who assumed responsibility for you. Even when you went to the toilet he'd wait outside and knock the door. The benefits being of Safety Net was that if you didn't want to sit in activities you could go for a walk around the grounds and you weren't allowed to go into the groups which I was later to find were very emotionally charged, even the 'Care & Concern' groups let alone the 'Confrontation' ones. On group days I was taken by a senior resident wit the other 'Safety Nets' to the games room ' even so you could here the noise from the upstairs halls as the full scale confrontational groups got underway.

After signing the contract for my stay and the dreaded 'terms and conditions' of residence, I was taken off for all my stuff to be meticulously searched. Firstly I had to hand in my wallet and any money on me, then two residents; a very young looking Scotsman called Samuel McCullough and Pat Breecher (the guy who I'd met on my day placement) took me over to the no smoking room in Aylesford House to conduct the search.

The complex was made up of two houses each containing about 35 residents each at full capacity. This wasn't including the houses in the village for the residents in the final phase of the programme who were working and assuming auxiliary staff positions (In total there were about 90 residents, making it one of the largest residential rehabs in the country). I was assigned to Aylesford House, which was meant to be slightly more liberal than Gower House (and according to Pat Breecher had more characters, which I was later to discover was probably true). There was a minor and friendly rivalry between the houses and for most part the running of the community was done on a house basis. On occasions such as 'Inter-House' Groups and 'General Meetings' the whole community would be brought to the huge hall in 'Elm Croft' which contained the office of the programme director, the financial director, administrative facility and admissions department.
The search (all duties where conducted to the highest standards by the residents with masses of feedback on each other to ensure that the rules were adhered to ' if standard were poor residents could find themselves having things put in place for them. Consequences were a major part of life at the Community and in this respect the residents were kept on their feet with a healthy dose of fear. There was always other residents watching out to see if anyone slipped up and eager to feed it back to the co-ordinators who ran the respective houses.) took over three hours and was very thorough. Everything I had was combed for drugs, or items not allowed in the community. I was fuming that my copy of "Naked Lunch by William S Burroughs and a biography of Hunter S Thompson were promptly confiscated as they were deemed to be unhealthy, negative and damaging reading materials that were under no circumstances to be circulated in the community. The guys were following the rules to the tee, I even had to strip and was made to wear a horrible blue dressing gown whilst they went through my socks and underwear. Most drug users of course stash their drugs up their bum ' and this thankfully wasn't done, anyway - I had nothing to hide.

One thing I did do though was keep a wallet with my live cash cards and some ID. After they went through it I pushed it back into some paperwork and then put it back in my pocket when their eyes were turned looking through a book page by page to make sure I'd stashed nothing in-between the pages! I'd got that one past them and this was important ' I wanted to keep as many back doors and escape routes as possible alive. If you left the community, before the end they would not give you you're money or ID (even if you deposited a lot of money with admissions when you came) ' you were literally given your bus fares to town and that was it! I was aware of this from the day placements and I for one still wanted to keep my rights to leave and have access to money if the worst came to the worst! That wallet in the end was to prove an issue of itself, constantly burning a hole in my pocket and prompting me to make a split, when things as they were to become became very, very tough.

After the search ' I was time for the evening meal at 5.00pm. It was something like Shepard's Pie and was stodgy (like typical prison food I'm told) but filled a gap.
I sat around and had to choke back the tears, the whole of my adult life had culminated in arriving at this place. I looked around the majority of people had endured terrible lives: - homelessness, damage to limbs and veins, some had chronic Hepatitis C, prison sentence after prison sentence. My arrival at the Grovelands at this point confirmed that my life had been the antithesis of success. With it, like most of the other residents I'd accumulated a massive whirlwind of issues that compounded into a horrendous mess. I'd lost my sense of self during the course of my self inflicted degeneration into the cruel world of crack cocaine and heroin abuse.

Most people were exceptionally friendly and welcoming to me from what I remember. I think that there was some suspicion as my own middle class guilt complex (and vain notions that I even had a fuckin' middle class guilt concept!), made me feel unworthy and a worse person. There were people here who couldn't read or write very well, who had no educational opportunities like mine, who had parents that were drug addicts, that had been abused as small children: the list was endless. Of course there wee a few very young 'addicts' who lived at home with their parents funding their addictions and who had probably gone to rehab when Mummy or Daddy said no more. The later type weren't rich spoilt kids though, you'd find that often the poorest of families would end up working to fund their son or daughters habit, to keep them out of trouble and so they wouldn't be ill. I got the idea that due to my quite innocent appearance and softly spoken manner I'd be grouped into this category. In fact the last money my Dad had ever given me was a fiver on my 19th Birthday ' my forays into crime, recreational drug dealing and social security fraud I justified legitimately as supporting myself through university.

I'd lived away from my home town and family since the age of 18 and had little to do with my family. I felt hurt as they constantly blamed me for all their woes ' 'just the fact their son was a junky.' A lot of the residents at the Grovelands had robbed their families, burgled their parents and sponged for many years; I prided myself on having nothing off my family whatsoever. It wasn't without fault though; the phone calls and blame I piled on them over the years down the line must have made them feel pretty bad. As I went through the programme I was to feel less and less guilty about this situation with my family, especially when I heard the dynamics of other family relationships and drug addiction. In a way I could see that it was my parents thinking and thought processes (their feelings about me being a junky) that caused them and me most of the problems rather than any physical realities. It took a long time to reason but this whole set up of guilt was a major contributory factor to my drug use/ especially relapse.

Anyway this was the background of jugmentalism that from the start got me off to a bit of a wrong footing. People were going to think I had a superior attitude ' in reality perhaps I had, but this was equally under belied by a guilty complex and an inferiority complex that ran along the lines of 'you're a bad person, as you had so much more opportunity in life and wasted it, they had nothing. You deserve to be a fucked up junky¦¦.ra¦..ra¦¦¦ra'

The evenings activities began and I began to take stock of the place. Everyone at the Community especially if you were on 'Safety Net' constantly asked you how you were. It was infuriating ' I must have been asked about 15 times during the course of the evening. The house was at full capacity will about 26 lads in the structure, 4 in the final stage who were out working and doing evening staff duties, their was another two lads on 'Safety Net' John (who was at about 10 days in) and a crazed northerner called Dave Skinner. As the community was unisex, there were four girls in the House: Emile (who was my advisor), Shelley who was a girl I vaguely knew from the street and the beat in Nottingham: she'd lived in the same block of flats as me at one stage), Louise Fraunskopp (who was in my peer group 4 weeks ahead of me, again someone I'd seen out and about bang at it in Nott's) and another girl of cockney origin who told me she'd been in residence for 74 weeks (I was appalled as I though the programme was meant to be 12 months, no more!) called Susan. After going in through admissions that day I'd had no contact with staff whatsoever ' it was a fact that the community was run solely by the residents and staff just enforce what was known as the structure. I'd actually tried to say hello to a key worker who promptly ignored me earlier in the day ' Emile told m that staff does not speak to junior residents and that if I had any needs I needed to go through her as she was my advisor, a senior resident and was allowed to speak to staff! It was bizarre. The constant nagging and asking about how you felt was par for the course and I'd have to engage in it myself and endure it for another 60 or so weeks! Neglect of 'Safety Nets' was almost a cardinal sin and everyone was expected to go out of their way to help you out and make you feel welcome. Often new residents would come in straight from the street and using so it must have been horrendous if you were still withdrawing which a lot of residents still were when they arrived. Thank got I'd got through my 'rattle' at home; else it would have made my induction into the programme even more unbearable!

The activities tat night were made up of 'Musical Chairs' in which everyone had to dance around chairs in the room (participation was compulsory unless you were on the Net). I though better get it done and over with so I had a go, feeling strange and humiliated. Louise who was relatively knew gave me the advice to try and get involved sooner rather than later as once your Safety Net card had run out you had to or would be asked to sit on the bench. (Which meant you were in danger of being kicked out to the streets)

Then they played Charades (which I sat quietly through) and after that the infamous 'Animal Quackers' that Pat Breecher had warned me about. Everyone sat in a huge circle and had an animal noise and action. One person would do their own and then another persons who would faster reply at lightning speed and so on. There were parodies of Goats, Chicken's, Cow's and even bizarre ones that people had personalised like Armadillo's. Each person normally kept the same animal noise and action, the speeds that the experienced got up to where phenomenal. Normally I was told that the game was played for three strikes (if you didn't respond fast enough or messed up one of the actions) and then you'd have to do an image. Images where things like Mick Jagger impersonations, with dancing and singing to the whole circle of people to jeering and cheering. It was all good fun for those that enjoyed it, but the idea at this stage terrified me. I resolved to learn the actions and movements of the various animals as quickly as possible ' as I didn't want to get imaged off when my Safety Net period ran out! I remember sitting their just petrified and scared to shit of what was going on. Pat Breecher warned me that it would seem so cultish and it was ' somewhere though I kept my head together. Just watching 'Animal Quackers was exhausting ' I could se the funny side and purpose to build peoples self worth and confidence. I just felt like crap and worthless, it would get better I told myself.

The friendliness of the people seemed a bit superficial I felt too. I think that they were scared of me to has newcomers always changed the dynamics of ho the Houses' were run. The only person that seemed genuine was Louise ' she talked to me incessantly about my experiences in St Anns. (She was St Anns born and bred) and was very kind to me. The senior residents were cool too, but I was a responsibility amongst the many they already had piled on them. I was to share a room with another Nottingham lad Michael Pickers ' he was kitchen manager, had been in the programme about 37 weeks and seemed to have a hell of a lot of stress. There were other people from Nottingham too, such as Paul Greaves who had once threatened to kill me over a ten pound bag. He came over and was friendly ' talking about his brother who had recently completed the programme, was doing well and was about to get his 'Grovelands' ring in a huge ceremony at the Elm Croft Hall in a couple of weeks. His brother Mark was ironically the first person I'd ever taken Heroin with in Nottingham and I was pleased that he'd sorted himself out and his life was going so smoothly. (More ironically Mark still owed me £30 quid!)

After the activities at 9.00pm there was a break for toast and tea. People mingled in the kitchen area, everyone made an effort to speak to me but I could see that a lot of it was forced and an almost obligatory do your bit for the Safety Net thing. The back doors were open out to the ground and people spilled in an out of the lounge. The period from 9.15-10.00pm was called 'Relate' and it was one of the few times you could possibly socialise in. The radio was allowed on and people sat out on the warm September night (remembering September 2003 was one of the hottest ever on records!). One of the most charismatic and animated of the senior residents a guy called Martin McCartney ' a scouser a general wisecrack, whoever was extremely articulate took some time to ask about me and how I was settling in. He seemed bright and intelligent although now well into his forties he was possessed with a certain youthful playfulness. He took me out to sit with him on one of the outside benches. Suddenly he grabbed hold of me and told me to look up into to the night sky: - a fantastic view due to the fact the rehab was set deep in the country miles away from the nearest town, no street lighting glare to pervert the view. The sky was deep blue black and wonderfully spangled with stars, sparkling and wondrous in all their glory ' I'd never seen that before, or at least not for years. You don't get to see the stars when you live in the huge conurbations of inner cities, especially not if you're scagged up and head let alone eyes don't leave ground level. "Isn't that wonderful he, said reading my mind, "You don't get that up in Liverpool. This place is hard kidda, but believe you me there's magic here! You can sense it ' those skies say it all. It's so nice to see the beauty as well as the crap, our kidda! Being clean, off drugs the joys and pains, the beauty and sorrows¦¦ He grinned and winked then moved on to his next victim.

I always remember that ' it was valid I suppose and came at the right moment. My scepticism was unphased though, but it's always something that I remember about my first weeks at the rehab.

I asked to go to bed early that night and I was let to go with accompaniment at 9.45pm! Michael kept telling me the rules and what was expected of both me and him. There were so many rules about how you could express yourself even and any negativity was picked up on immediately. I could piece together how the process of changing your thoughts and cognitive processing was engineered at this place. I knew that my propensity to overanalyse was really going to in some ways handicap me as I went through the programme. Now more worried than ever ' it seemed that anything you said or any gesture was scrutinised and then used in the groups against you at some points. I decided to keep very quiet for a while. I wanted to talk to him about his life in Nottingham, about crime and drugs experiences ' I gather now though that for senior residents to even mention these things it was not seen to be correct it was not encouraging to help us in our new clean and positive lives we were to engage in at the Grovelands. They had examples to set to the junior residents. He was shattered and fell asleep when we got back; I felt self conscious as my feet stunk (still recovering from a bought of trench foot in Notts). He had been taken miles away from where I was at; after 37 weeks at the Grovelands he might of well as of been on a different planet. I could see how the place used linguistic programming to change you though patterns, I was so worried and felt very alone. I missed St Anns, the girls I'd shared my flat with and my old life and that I night dreamt about drugs. On the positive side I knew that I was a far away from drugs within the confines of the community as I would ever be in my life and that felt warm and reassuring, I'd begun a process that was going to help me enormously - as painful as it seemed at this present moment.