Looking back, I think two selves moved into the townhouse – my can-do self and my broken-down self. My can-do self decided this townhouse would do as an addictions treatment center and she opened a rehab and put my broken-down self into it.
On July 2, 2012, I moved from a 2001 house into a 1985 townhouse. Six months abstinent from alcohol and newly separated, I would estimate on that day, and many, many to follow, that 95% of my hours – day and night – were distress-filled.
Sixteen months later, now 22 months abstinent and, regrettably, divorced, I experience distress about 10% of each day.
That’s an astounding reduction.
When I moved into the townhouse, my can-do self researched addictions treatment. She found few options locally and an enraging lack of consensus on what addiction is and how to treat it. So she did her linear little thing: called forth her master’s degree in counseling, pondered her experience with what seemed to help people when she worked with them in many settings, relentlessly read as much research as she could, saw my desperation, said, “Good enough will have to do – the client is suffering!”, made judgment calls, and cobbled together a treatment program for me.
She organized and scheduled my days, transported my broken-down self to meetings and appointments with counselors and health care providers and whatever else she could find, and hoped for the best.
She did all right.
I so respect Lance Dodes’s work on addictions treatment. He scoffs, however, at equine therapy and other non-evidence-based treatment for addictions. What I don’t think he gets is that sometimes it doesn’t matter if addictions treatment is evidence-based. It matters that it’s something to do, something pleasant and kind and engaging and absorbing to do as a calming respite from the all-day, every-day strain of not doing, of not drinking or using.
And my can-do self recognized I needed help, not just with doing, but with being. And I needed a place to be to see beauty without when I couldn’t feel it within. My can-do self did something new, too. Instead of trying to do it alone, she asked for help.
Look at my beautiful treatment center.
Wall mural concept and design by Babs Chenault, layout and precision painting by Jeff Proco, photo by Sean Shannon.
Fall view of front garden highlighted by geraniums, conifers, and blueberries, designed and planted in May, 2014, by Pamela Cadmus of Specialty Garden Design. Pamela’s three-year plan for a garden is “Sleep, Creep, Leap!”
When I look back at the past 22 months and think of all the people who came to my townhouse, met with me, called me, texted me, emailed me – helped, comforted, calmed, reassured, supported me… Treatment center for one, staffed by hundreds.
Thank you so very, very much, treatment team. The client is progressing nicely.
. . . . .
If you’re interested in a tour of Anne’s little treatment center, here’s a link to more photos. To enlarge, click the image. To scroll, use arrows at bottoms of enlarged images. In the photos, the master bedroom is used as an office and the larger hall bedroom is used as the master bedroom. Not pictured: about a billion cat beds, cat playgrounds, cat toys, and cat litter boxes – except for one little peek here. Photos by Sean Shannon
Wall mural contacts: Babs Chenault, 540-998-6161; Jeff Proco, 540-357-4880
Garden: Pamela Cadmus, 540-651-4464. Here is the garden’s plant list, the garden design layout, and another view.
