About two weeks ago, I made a pretty sad post on Facebook, complaining that it was raining heavily, I was homeless and, to avoid the downpour, had locked myself into a public toilet with only a bottle of wine and an internet connection for company. Although I didn’t specifically ask for anything, I suppose it was a cry for help of sorts. Since then, I have been deluged not by the rain this time but by countless messages of love and kindness, offers of practical support, good advice, wonderfully dark humour, housing, financial assistance, everything. Even a simple ‘Like’ helped. I have also been supported here on the ground by genuinely special people who are doing everything they can to help.
Since all this happened a fund was started by a good friend, simply to get me into a hostel and off the streets. The fund became sufficiently large that other plans formed, either to urgently get me back to the UK or to get me into some kind of rehabilitation facility. Careful planning and thought on the part of the funding committee, and with my agreement, came to the conclusion that putting me dead drunk on a plane back to the UK might not be such a great idea. God knows where I would have ended up. Probably going round on a luggage carousel in Mexico or something.
Instead, in a state of what can only be described as suicidal distress, I called an ambulance and was checked into the detoxification unit at the local hospital who helped me through the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. With a new plan in mind, and with help from the funding committee (who basically organised everything, whilst I lay in a foetal position in a detox unit being bombarded with Valium and all sorts), the funds were used to book me into a private rehab centre, which is where I am now. Rest assured that the money you gave so generously was spent wisely. I’m convinced that this is the better option than returning home – at least at this stage. I’m safe, under the watch of staff and their medical team and surrounded by lovely people who – like me – found out the hard way that life can suddenly go badly wrong, without even a hint of notice.
For addicts of any type, there are lots of sayings, slogans and acronyms to help you through. They’re helpful enough but they won’t keep you sober in themselves – apart, perhaps, from this one: ‘One day at a time’, simply because it breaks down apparently endless problems into a simpler format and time frame. And so it is that, one day at a time, and with your love and support, there will be a brighter day ahead.
In what was truly my hour of need, you gathered round me like a family and I genuinely don’t have the words to express my deep gratitude and respect. I can only say it in the simplest terms: thank you.
With all my love, Nick
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