CAKE

TEN LAYERS OF ADDICTION CAKE

– Notes from the other side of slavery –

Countless times, I exhausted myself and those close to me with endless lamentations about injustice, global oppression, and slavery that we do nothing about. The new world order, the pharmacological lobby, the unscrupulousness of authorities at all levels and in all parts of the world. Is it possible that we are all so helpless to oppose them? The answer is simple – yes, we are powerless and it is difficult to change anything there.

At the same time, I voluntarily put chains on myself and surrendered to another, much more dangerous evil – I became a slave to alcohol. 

The story that follows describes the first steps on the long journey that opens up in front of the “Kunta Kinte” from Serbia with a place of residence in Arizona.

The beginning of this adventure reminds me of a story from my youth. In the mid-eighties, wealthier residents of my town were building and buying houses in the suburbs of the city. The parents of one of my friend went to visit their newly purchased castle in the rural idyll of Šumadija. The father knew the location while the mother patiently waited. After driving for a good ten minutes, the woman asks shyly:

– Have we arrived?

– Just a little more, darling, it’s around the corner, the caring husband replies.

At the fourth mile, my friend’s mom had a lump in her throat and fear in her voice: 

– Maybe they’re repairing the road, so we have to take a detour?”

– Don’t worry, my dear, it’s just fine,” her husband replied.

Half an hour later, they arrived at their destination in silence. That same night, the father slept on the couch while the mother cried all night.

My daughter and I had a similar experience on our way to The River Source. We started out with the idea that the center for treating patients with addiction was in our neighborhood. An hour and a half later, driving through the desert and bumps on the road, we arrived in Arizona City. This toponym has the word “city” in its name, but it is actually a large village with several thousand inhabitants and barns that visitors get to know through the sense of smell.

We said our goodbyes in the parking lot and began our stay at this facility, or as a non-existent poet said, “I found myself at the source of The River Source.” They led me to the reception room. On the right side, there was a medical check-up. Blood pressure over 200, pulse over 100, and blood alcohol level at zero. They said the first “sober” with zero, after a long time. On the left side, Alex asked questions. Than the search, urinating in a cup… I was given a blue canvas bag containing a notebook, a pen, a folder, and The Big Book – the Bible of Alcoholics Anonymous worldwide. I opened the book…

ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

The organization Alcoholics Anonymous was founded in 1935 by William Griffith Wilson (Bill W.) and Dr. Robert Holbrook Smith (Dr. Bob). Four years later, they published their basic textbook known as the Big Book, which still serves as the primary text for the group today.

William Griffith Wilson, later known only as “Bill W.”, was born in Vermont in 1895. His parents’ marriage was full of difficulties, and in 1905 his father, Gilman Wilson, left the family. Wilson completed his high school education, experienced the tragic death of his first love, served in France during World War I, and married Lois Burnham.

After the war, Bill W. began a brokerage career on Wall Street. After the stock market crash of 1929, he turned to alcohol. As time passed, he drank more and more. He was treated for alcoholism at the Charles B. Towns hospital in New York by Dr. William D. Silkworth, who helped Wilson understand alcoholism as a disease, not just a mental disorder, a concept that would later become part of the AA doctrine.

According to Wilson’s testimony, during the sobriety process in the hospital, he experienced a powerful spiritual realization of God one night, which he later called his “burning bush.” After encountering a higher power, Wilson managed to remain sober for a longer period of time.

Bill W. and Dr. Bob founded the organization Alcoholics Anonymous. The goal of the AA group is to embrace a different lifestyle after treatment, where there is no need for alcohol. Bill W. and Dr. Bob worked at the city hospital in Akron, where they successfully applied a new method. After a short period of time, Bill W. returned to New York where he founded a new group. In 1939, there were three AA groups in Akron, Cleveland, and New York.

Although they lived separately, Dr. Bob and Bill W. remained in close contact and began writing the book “Alcoholics Anonymous,” also known as the “Big Book.” When it was published in April 1939, the “Big Book” had 400 pages. It placed special emphasis on the Twelve Steps of Recovery along with the continuous history of recovered members. The book, as well as an increasing number of supporters, gained media attention throughout America. Over the next few years, Dr. Bob directed his attention towards clinical treatment. The number of recovered patients increased every day, and by 1950, the number of treated alcoholics had reached one hundred thousand.

Today, the Alcoholics Anonymous organization has over two million members and is present in 180 countries. There are 120,000 active AA groups worldwide, and the “Big Book” has been translated into over one hundred languages.

***

I close the book and enter the so-called Detox center. Even though I have no alcohol in my blood, this is my first stop because “on the other side of the shore” in the boarding section, there is currently no room available. I enter my room. It looks decent. Two beds, a small TV on the wall. Besides the open shelf for belongings – there is no wardrobe. Later, I learned that this is to prevent hiding illegal “substances.” I meet people, they nod their heads, and I explore the area until the first meeting begins with the inevitable: “Hello, everyone, I’m Dejan, I am an alcoholic!” “Hello, Dejan!” colleagues respond. How many times have I mocked such gatherings? Arrogantly, without any reason or cause. Impressions from the first meeting – mixed. People are honest, open, angry with themselves, and afraid that they will not be able to heal. Since most patients in this part of the facility are only here for detoxification, the rules are not overly strict. Time is spent in the room watching TV or socializing in common areas. I started reading Rajko Grlić’s “Untold Stories.”

On the second day of my stay, I went for a walk, meditation, and met a few “comrades,” as well as some of the staff of the “River Source.” So far, everything is going according to plan, but it’s no wonder because I’ve just arrived. Sunday is the day for a big cleaning, which we quickly did, so it was time to order pizza. Oh God, how little people need to be happy. They talk about it all day, and then they wait for it to be delivered or taken away.

A memory comes to my mind of an article I read in a newspaper a long time ago. It was about people who visited remote areas and practiced different spiritual techniques, especially meditation and solitude, in a group of like-minded individuals. They say that without exception, all of them went through great spiritual trials and inner battles with themselves. Such internal conflict is the biggest challenge of this type of healing.

It’s Monday, Veterans Day, and I’m moving to the boarding section of the institution. I’m a little scared of the change, but I’m not giving up. There are a lot more people here, about forty if I counted correctly. It’s crowded, noisy, and chaotic, but the accommodation is much better. There’s no joking around here, there are obligations from early morning until late evening, and personal duties on top of that. It’s an inner struggle, not because of alcohol, but because of the feeling of being confined and the challenges that need to be overcome before returning home and then for the rest of my life. The calendar starts counting days from today. We’ll take care of the calendar, but we have to think about the hours and minutes first. My roommate for the first two nights was Blue Eyed George, and then Gerald, my best friend here in The River Source (RS).

The first individual therapy session was via Skype. A very pleasant young lady. We talked about many topics, from my childhood to the present day. I liked her way of working, and at the end of the session, I asked enthusiastically: “So, I’ll be seeing you once a week, right?”

“No,” the therapist says, “this was just for the purpose of determining how much time you will spend in the facility for health insurance purposes!” She concludes and ends the call.

Daily meetings begin. Patients share their most intimate feelings, stories, and experiences. The essence of each confession always involves the pain and misery of addiction. Most of the patients are young people between the ages of 20 and 35, and the majority are repeat offenders. Bob, a charming young man from Tuson, aged 22, started drinking at eleven and using drugs at fifteen. My first impression was that all these young people full of life and energy did not radiate excessive motivation to quit this evil. They actively participate in conversations, some of them carefully follow lectures, but I got the impression that when they face the outside world, they will encounter too many challenges that addiction brings. I would like to be wrong, but I am afraid that many of them will soon return here, while some, unfortunately, will leave forever.

At these meetings where I share my experiences, struggles, and dilemmas, a person learns a lot and quickly realizes how lucky they are, which they are often unaware of. The problem with lectures and group therapy arises when it comes to the “Big Book,” the 12 steps in addiction treatment, where the so-called “Higher Power” plays the most important role. This is where complete confusion begins for me with an abundance of illogicalities. According to one of the founders of the Alcoholics Anonymous movement and co-author of the “Big Book,” William W, all those who have successfully completed the program and remained sober for years after that, did so with the help of a “higher power.”

Most have found God who helped them overcome drugs and alcohol. In the past, when they tried to overcome addiction on their own, they would succumb to temptation and return to their old ways. Naively, I ask: why did God allow them to become addicts in the first place? Why did He allow them to lead miserable lives? And finally, why did He not forgive their skepticism and spiritual doubt? Isn’t it human and Christian to forgive?

Throughout the day, they perfom the count. In case someone is missing by chance. Forgive me, “higher power”, but this is like being in prison.

DREAM – 1

My wife Sneža and I, young and beautiful, have small children. We all go to a hotel where a large gathering is taking place, something like a reception or a wedding. I bought an expensive bottle of hard liquor. When we arrived, I opened the bottle and poured myself a drink, then asked Sneža if she wanted to try it.

“What about your addiction treatment? Counting days without alcohol?” she said.

“Oh, I totally forgot!” I replied and immediately put down my glass on the curb next to the car.

Later, Sneža and the kids went home. As we said goodbye, she told me to hurry, not to drink and that they were waiting for me. I started walking towards the parking lot where my full glass was still standing, but resisted the temptation. Next to mine, there was another full glass. “Must be a colleague’s,” I thought with a smile. I poured out the glasses, got in the car and went home.

***

Since early morning, my neck had been hurting. After breakfast, I found out that my only free massage during treatment was scheduled for today. I’m really lucky.

I attended my first AA meeting. Around 6:15 in the evening, a small bus picked us up in front of the building and drove us to Casa Grande. About thirty people attended the meeting. Everything was in order, mantras, prayers, and collective hugging at the end. Honest stories, different fates. After an hour, everyone went home, and my colleagues and I headed to Arizona City.

When any of the patients finishes their stay at River Source, a farewell circle is held where everyone wishes them luck and blesses the coin they receive that day. The first such ceremony since I’ve been here was in honor of Daniel. When I met him, he seemed like a child on the verge of mental retardation. They say that upon arrival for treatment, he couldn’t speak for days. His brain was destroyed by methamphetamine, and nature wasn’t particularly generous when it came to intelligence. Days went by, Daniel was quiet and observing the situation, and then suddenly he spoke up. From that moment on, he never stopped talking. He asked me five times a day how to pronounce my name and then repeated it the same number of times. To fill these empty conversations, I told him that I was born in a city where Yugo used to be produced and now it is called  Fiat. He was overjoyed.

The following evening, John, a professional horse trainer, also left. His wife, with whom he had been married for 32 years, passed away a few years ago. He is always alone, quiet, and often cries. I approached him a couple of times, and the conversation always went the same way: “My wife and I had wonderful years together. From the first day, I loved her endlessly. Then came the wedding, it was a beautiful ceremony, and I was in love with her until the last day when cancer took her away from me forever. Without her, my life means nothing!” We said goodbye and exchanged phone numbers.

A week has passed since I moved into the boarding section. My roommate asked me how I like it here, and I replied: “It’s like a Catholic school without beatings or a prison that you can leave.” It’s the weekend, so I had the opportunity to reflect on my stay at River Source.

A typical day during treatment goes something like this: wake up at 7, coffee, journaling, reading books. The first morning meeting is at 9, the second at 10, and then exercise in the hottest part of the day at 11. Lunch is at noon, followed by “Valdo’s World,” a class where we study the “Big Book,” the addict’s Bible. After that, group therapy with a old woman Gina (for friends) “G-nice” until dinner at 4:30. Evening class is from 6-8, and then going outside. I walk a mile and a half in the morning and the same in the evening. Tara usually accompanies me, and others play beach volleyball, basketball, and horseshoes. Most patients are very euphoric. It’s as if they’re plugged into electricity. They pull chairs, yell, stand up, sit down… noise non-stop. For someone who has suffered from misophonia for years, it’s definitely not easy, but what can you do? We live in a world of suppressed emotions, and when you’re in the minority, you keep your pain to yourself so as not to anger the majority.

“Higher Power” – Mrs. Faith or Grandma Vera (Faith in serbian)

From the very beginning, it was difficult for me to switch to the concept of a higher power, without which, according to AA principles, there is no successful recovery. In order to make it more personal and continue the fight against addiction, instead of God as my higher power, I chose Mrs. Faith or Grandma Vera, an older woman with a gentle gaze and a warm smile. She is surrounded by dolls, Lego blocks, trucks, soldiers, and other children’s toys. Around her are also houses, animals, cars, factories, hospitals, but also kindness, perseverance, strong character, hope, endurance… I greet Mrs. Vera and express my fears, dilemmas, joys, sorrows, successes, failures, love, disappointments… She helps me. Finally, why should God always be a young man with long hair and a beard? What’s wrong with my Grandma Vera?

Roommate Gerald opens up. He is very cultured, intelligent, 39 years old, and became an alcoholic in his twenties. He has a wife and three children, but unfortunately the marriage will not last. He and his wife agreed to a mutual divorce and the process is nearing completion. He is aware of his responsibility and admits that his wife has sacrificed a lot to stay together, but for marital happiness, at least two people are needed. Džemo went for treatment several times but always returned to alcohol. He took breaks, once even two and a half years without drinking. In addition to his passion for hard drinks and his weakness to resist addiction, his job as an electrician did not help much. He worked mostly outside the city. During the day he would socialize with clients and in the motel at night with a bottle of vodka. He lived in the opposite direction of the working class in the US. During the workweek, he would be in the motel dead drunk, while on weekends, he spent time sober with his family. I learned a lot from Gerald. All of my problems and temptations related to addiction have been worked out and, above all, experienced down to the smallest detail by him.

I sleep enough and almost every night I dream. I remember my dreams and write them down the next morning. The last time I was able to do something similar was over 30 years ago when we attended the Silva method.

DREAMS – 2

I – I am in school. The class consists of the worst students, with David Letterman as the teacher. During class, everyone is messing around. The teacher is smiling contentedly, saying “You’ll become something, just wait and see.” He closes the diary as the bell rings to signal the end of class.

II – While Kata is buying some toys that can be used with the TV, I am having a discussion about bottles of brandy that are more expensive than their contents. As an alcoholic, I talk about nothing but alcohol bottles. We bought the device and are heading home. Kata is satisfied and says “It’s going to be a wonderful birthday!”

III – Suddenly, I find myself at Boka’s workplace after leaving the store. They have an important meeting. After a productive discussion, Boka takes the floor and “summarizes” in her own style.

I continue to dream. Ada, Kata, and Nena rarely appear in my dreams. Boka and Deda are usually present in relatively normal, everyday situations. They are almost always in their 40s. I occasionally dream about Sneža, who is always kind to me and in her early thirties. Last night, I dreamt about Goran Ivanović and his family.

It’s Sunday. The discipline in the institution is more relaxed. We sleep until eight. Isn’t that great? At the morning meeting, tasks for the upcoming week are assigned. I got assigned to clean the microwave and the machines for water, coffee, and juice.

I finished Grlic’s “Untold Stories” and Jergovic’s book “Dogs from the Lake” and rereading Dejan Mak’s novel “Bergdorf”. I should have brought more books. Luckily, there is a lot of light literature from the 90s here. Since I don’t have a table lamp, when it gets dark, I can’t see small letters, so I look for books with large print that were previously printed exclusively for the elderly population. And officially, I am becoming one of them.

I started speaking French after so many years. My friend Denis came to the US from Quebec. He has a strong French accent that is so charming. He works in programming, works from home, and drinks red wine. The daily routine starts early in the morning at the supermarket where he buys two bottles of wine that satisfy daily needs. He drinks the first one by noon and stretches the second one until the end of the day. When asked why he doesn’t buy more bottles so he doesn’t have to go shopping early in the morning, he stoically answers shortly: “If I have more, I will drink it all!” Denis is the only colleague older than me. His doctor told him that if he continues with alcohol, his liver will last for a maximum of two years. I heard a good joke from this Frenchman. His friend once told him: “Denis, if you want to say something important, first tell me that it’s important!”

Dreams – 3

I – Mr. Mile and I are driving a truck. Suddenly, our schoolmates Nikola  and Boban appear out of nowhere. The truck can only be entered from the back where the goods are transported. At some point, we are stopped by some drunkards with a bottle of brandy in their hand. On the way, we see a police patrol. I throw out the hitchhikers and even Mr. Mile. We continue on our way congratulating each other.

II – That same night, I dream that Bobi and I went to Ljupka and Misko’s place in Raska (relatives). The reason for the visit is to pick up Nana Kaja (grandma) and bring her back home. Nana looks great. Everything is going great until our hosts don’t let us do the laundry!?

Mister U. has arrived. He has a funny hairstyle, a big beard, and a bruise under his eye.

Once a week, we receive an infusion. They inject something yellow into our veins, they say it’s vitamins. We better trust them.

STORY 1 – VIKING

BHTs are rehabilitated addicts who now take care of us for a salary. One of them is Viking. A huge man with long hair tied in a ponytail and a big beard. He’s quite sharp, you could even say aggressive. He constantly repeats “grit your teeth and don’t cry!”

He grew up in a normal family. Father, mother, and two brothers, one of whom started experimenting with light drugs. Parents and good brothers weren’t particularly interesting to Viking, so he followed his older, naughty brother. Since he was much bigger, Viking could handle a lot more from the very beginning. Marijuana, cocaine, heroin – the path that is easy to take but hard to come back from.

He soon starts dealing. His appearance, physique, and above all his character help him with that. When he was running from the police, he hid at his parents’ place. On his deathbed, his father begged him to quit drugs and take care of his mother and siblings – he didn’t listen. After his father’s death, he becomes even more insatiable. His mother pleads, begs, and finally asks for a restraining order: “I never dreamed my own son would do something like this to me!” she said through tears. Viking continues as before. Over the next few years, he married two women similar to himself and divorced both times. When his mother became seriously ill and needed full-time care, he asked his brother to take care of her until he returned from rehab. He enrolled in rehab at River Spring. After two months, he came out and spent the next three years taking care of his mother, using the “savings” from his dealing days. When his mother died, he got a job at River Spring. He hasn’t used drugs for a full five years.

“The teacher” Cassandra assigned us to write a poem, story, or anything on the topic of “My recovery from alcoholism.”

Recovery – Day Zero (My story)

Me: I don’t need recovery. I’ll quit on my own!

The Power of Alcohol: You’re right, old man. Come here and Uncle will give you something. It’s in a bottle, liquid and tasty.

Treatment – Day 7 (outside)

Me: Dear God, what am I going to do with myself in this heat?

The Desert Force: Stop whining. Shake yourself up a bit. Take a walk. You’ll feel better.

Treatment – Day 30

Me: I’ve finished my treatment. What should I do now?

Higher Power: This is just the beginning, my friend. Believe in yourself. Find a sponsor. Become a person of your word.

Dreams – 4

My cousin Dragan from Palanka is standing in front of our house in Kragujevac. Two yellow cars are approaching him. Both are driving ladies. A young woman gets out of the first car, slaps my cousin around a bit, gets in the car and leaves. Dragan is in shock, gets into the second car and leaves with the girl in it. Later, Dragan’s parents come to visit us. The guests aren’t angry, but the refreshments are all in order. At the end of the day, in the small room upstairs where our kitchen used to be and is now a storage room, I ask Boka to make me something sweet. I wonder if the Damjanovic family ate everything or if this is another dream in which there is no food left from before.

***

Patient turnover is in full swing. Soon, I’ll be one of the most senior in terms of experience. My roommate regularly brings me a comfortable chair from the patio. He noticed that his fellow combatant has back pain. When I thank him, he casually waves his hand and says in front of everyone – Respect!

Miss or Baba Gina, an elderly lady in her early 70s. A former hippie girl who is our group therapist. All the attributes she (doesn’t) possess are in inverse proportion to the job she does. She has very poor hearing and her voice is so soft that they had to get her a “karaoke machine” to use a microphone and amplifier. Apart from a complete lack of communication, she is very explicit, and freedom of thought is an abstract category for her. She tries to establish a casual conversation, but even that has not succeeded so far.

DREAMS – 5

We enjoy the beach as a family. I notice that only our family has occupied the part of the beach with a rocky bottom. The water is clear and warm, the landscape is memorable, the silence… but the rocks cut our feet. We ask Sneža to go to the sandy part, but she decides to call her piano students who are still on the shore. The students join us with a painful expression on their faces.

I mentioned the novel “Bergdorf” (Exhale). When I received the book with the author’s signature, I read it sporadically whenever I had a little free time. I read the novel occasionally with interruptions, and I’m not even sure if I finished it. I don’t know if the pieces came together or it is somethin else? Like the main character of the story, I went to a place where I could devote myself to my thoughts. I was impressed by the style, refined literary language, and precisely crafted combination of banal reality with fantasy conveyed in the setting of an imaginary place skillfully hidden on the outskirts of the Gray city. Dejan Mak’s novel is a great work of art that fully meets the strict criteria set by the main character in the book. When the protagonist sets an almost unattainable goal for the author and he surpasses it, there’s nothing more to add. I sincerely hope that my namesake is already writing “Bergholz” (Exhale).

DREAMS – 6

I struggle with computer codes and passwords all night long. In the breaks from computer torture, I prepare dinner for Grandma Mica. I cook in the house while Grandma talks to Sneza in the guest house. I heat up some cabbage endlessly. Cooking turns into an endless evening nightmare. I pour warm cabbage into a plate while dividing the ice cream into three equal parts.

It started as a joke but now I find myself speaking more and more in French with Denis. I walked 12 laps, which is equivalent to 3 miles. I am slowly changing my opinion about Viking. He is always warm and friendly towards me. Today, he even brought me a book that I started reading on my first day in Rečni Izvor. It’s a diary of a recovered addict named David Sedaris titled “Theft By Finding”. It’s an interesting read and the structure has helped me in writing these notes.

STORY 2 – TARA

Suddenly, Tara asked me to read a letter she plans to send to her husband. From the beginning, she writes about his flaws, behavior that drives her crazy, that she can’t take it anymore… and then in the last few lines, it becomes clear that she loves him and that it’s just a momentary crisis. After Tara’s father passed away, her seriously ill mother came to live with them. Her husband agreed at first but now he is bothered by it. He misses her privacy. A small twist occurs when I find out during our conversation that Tara’s mother is 67 years old and her husband is 63. They are almost peers. They live in Cottonwood near Sedona. I advise her to write a new letter explaining the essence of the problem, which is the sudden, uncomfortable situation and lack of understanding. She should also remind him of their ages and the real possibility that he may soon face illness, asking him how he would feel in such a situation.

Friday is June 15th, a day full of events. Firstly, there’s Brando, the bald “gansta” from Florence. He’s in his forties and already a grandfather. He talks non-stop and can’t keep his mouth shut. During one of the meetings, he praised the program in the following way: “Everyone here is so nice. It’s the first time I’ve been in a new environment where I haven’t had to beat anyone up!” A few hours later, he had a nervous breakdown on the patio. He was screaming, jumping, and threatening everyone, calling them losers and idiots. He also stated that he would stop drinking on his own and that he didn’t need former drug addicts and old ladies to help him. An hour later, he found himself outside in the heat with no one to pick him up. He walked home.

Rose is my psychotherapist. During our first meeting, she gave me homework that had a lot in common with the 12-step recovery program. I don’t like this concept, which they treat as “Holy Scripture,” too much. There are many positive things, but the religious part has put me off from the beginning. Instead of criticizing and talking about the shortcomings, I decided to make my own version and steps that I could implement more easily. Rose listened carefully and was genuinely thrilled. After two weeks in this institution, someone finally agreed that the 12 steps are important but not the only way to overcome addiction. She even told me that it’s better to work on myself and find a program that personally suits me better. The goal is to overcome addiction, and the method can always be adapted. Ruza also thinks that my program, “10 steps to overcome addiction,” also contains important aspects such as spirituality, discipline, and responsibility.

1. Acknowledging to myself that my alcohol addiction prevents me from leading a normal life. My struggle against addiction will show my loved ones that I deserve their love and support.

2. Keeping my promise – attending AA meetings at least once a week and having Nikola as my sponsor.

3. A healthy body, a healthy mind – Continuing with 2-mile walks per day. Yoga and proper nutrition.

4. Spirituality – Asking Sneža to be my spiritual advisor. Together, we will explore different religions and spiritual paths. I will suggest starting with the monastery in Saford because it means a lot to her. I would like to visit Boka’s grave more often and enrich it with small details.

5. Helping others – Applying to volunteer at the Hospice of the Valley.

6. Completing my daily responsibilities (paying bills, work, administration) without procrastination and seeking help for things I can do on my own.

7. Paying attention to my reactions when I hear opinions I disagree with, without prejudice. Besides verbal communication, I will also pay attention to my facial expressions. Also, planning weekend trips and annual vacations with Sneža and the kids.

8. Responsibility – Helping my family by setting a personal example, specifically through actions rather than promises. A daily schedule of activities would help me organize my predictable activities. Writing and walking in the morning. Gym, Yoga, and reading in the evenings.

9. Creativity – Writing in this journal, continuing and finishing the novel, writing for Kragujevac newspapers… Coming up with creative games with my grandchildren.

10. Taking it one day, one hour, one minute, and one moment at a time until the next day.

After completing my 10 recovery layers, Rose asked me for a copy, just like Tara, Mr. U., and Gerald. I’m becoming an “influencer” among alcoholics. I listed working on this journal as one step on my path to healing. I took notes seriously because I want to leave a trace of this not-so-pleasant adventure. It will be my personal reminder from the “River Source” that my closest and dear people will be able to read.

I asked what the problem was with the Big Book? It seems to suffer from the same problem as the Bible or the American Constitution. A book written 90 years ago cannot be used as a textbook today. It simply does not communicate with the “audience” and needs to be updated.

DREAMS – 7

I – Nena is on trial for assaulting a young man for a traffic violation. At first, everything seems harmless, and we even joke about how there’s no messing with Nena. The lawyer is cautious and says that you never know in court. Before the verdict is handed down, the lawyer tells us that she will most likely have to go to jail, but he will try to make the sentence as lenient as possible. After much uncertainty, she is sentenced to 8 years in prison but is later reduced to two. We are all in shock, which luckily wakes me up.

II – In the second dream, Deda goes to the doctor to get his American pension. During the conversation, he begins to pretend he is crazy. He behaves strangely. The doctor finds it amusing and tells him that he has figured out the motive but will turn a blind eye and approve the pension. While Nena, Sneza, and I sympathetically comment on the situation, Deda is angry. We realize that he has come up with all of this so he doesn’t get the pension and has a reason to return to Serbia.

STORY 3 – Mr. U.

A history teacher in a high school. Towards the end of the school year, a student invited him to a Mexican-style family party with lots of drinks, food, and loud music.  Mr. U. was nervous. How should he behave? He didn’t want to make any mistakes. His fear was justified because he messed up big time. From the very beginning, he mixed tequila and beer, and then he had a big gap in his memory and a bruise under his eye. If you believe him, he doesn’t remember anything. Not why the fight broke out or who beat him up. His workplace quickly found out and fired him on the spot. Mr. U. ikes to philosophize. He criticizes teachers, therapists, and educators, and then apologizes to them. Fortunately, a friend found him a new job before he went for treatment. This whole story is quite illogical, but if he likes it, I have nothing against accepting it as the truth.

Phone calls are twice a week between 4:30 and 8. They take place in a stuffy office with a bad air conditioner. Two patients and a caregiver at the same time. The conversation starts with the teacher dialing the number so as not to call a dealer or someone to get us out of the facility and lasts for 15 minutes.

DREAMS – 8

I am at school, but I am not sure in what capacity. Am I a parent, a teacher, or a random passerby? I meet my school friend Sneža Jošović. She has a strange smile, huge eyes, and a frightening gaze. She says she is one of the leading experts in crossing poultry species, and her narrow specialty is roosters. While we chat casually, a local TV crew comes to make a feature about her, and I happily go to Target to buy a new type of “veggie burgers” that I cannot find.

Weekends usually start in a good mood because of the extra time that can be used for reading and writing, but by Sunday evening, after exercising, I don’t mind that we’re returning to a regular schedule the next day.

DREAMS – 9

I – I’m coming home to Kragujevac from America. I’m pushing a large silver suitcase and I see Bobi at the small gate, who stopped by to bring something. He’s dressed like a gastarbeiter – a plaid jacket and pants, but in a different way. We greet each other, he says he’s in a hurry, and I enter the house. Boka and Deda are in their 40s. There are many old cars in the yard. We go to the city center to exchange money. I open my wallet and there, instead of dollars, are some unknown currencies. I panic that I forgot the money. Cut. In the next scene, I wander alone around the city.

II – The second dream of the same night – I arranged with Boka and a school friend, Sasha Varjacic Zeka, to go to the Tempe Zoo and stop somewhere for a drink. Suddenly, we postpone the fun for the next day. The next day, Boka and I walk to Zeka’s place. There’s a huge TV on the terrace showing a domestic series. There’s also an unknown man sleeping in a lounger. I take a closer look and realize that it’s my father Daca from his younger days. I tell him to wake up so we can eat cabbage and then go out together. He kindly asks if he can have something else because he ate cabbage yesterday. I go to buy something else. I pass through a building that looks like a Chinese quarter. Many stores with Serbian and Chinese food. I try unsuccessfully to find something he would like. I come back, and on the terrace, instead of my parents, are Jelena Misaljevic and Pera Kilibarda.

Therapist Rose decided to come to work on Sunday at 9 pm. I read her the final version of “10 Layers of Recovery (cake)”, and she was thrilled. She praised the creativity, originality, but above all, the willingness to work on oneself, honesty, and admission of one’s own mistakes. She would like to meet Sneza because based on my behavior during treatment and the recovery plan I made, she saw that Snezana (she asked me for the name) is the pillar that holds me up in both difficult and happy times. What I realized is that positive changes in our shared life are the key to my recovery.

STORY 4 – INDIAN SAACHI FROM MHA NATION

Sunday ended with rain. During the evening walk, I feel the freshness, but instead of the pleasant desert scent after the rain, there is the aroma of a stable, and cows can be heard. At the end of the yard, Saachi sits. He smokes a cigarette and imitates the barking of dogs that answer him from a distance. The place where he sat is halfway along the walking path. After the first lap, I ask him if he is okay. I am worried that he has isolated himself and because he is barking. He says everything is fine. He joins me on the next lap. While walking, he tells me that he is a native, a sedentary Indian or, as it is modernly called, a Native American from North Dakota, and he likes to communicate with animals. His tribe – the MHA Nation (Mandan – Hidatsa – Arikara) paid for his treatment with one single condition that it be in Arizona City. He feels claustrophobic in the building. In recent years, he hasn’t lived on the reservation, but he spends a lot of time in nature. As much as looks can deceive, my impression of this young man testifies. He somewhat resembles Sasha Milenich but much younger and more beautiful. With a tanned face, perfectly built, long black hair … He seemed like a surfer from California. The fact that it is difficult to understand him, I connected with heavy synthetic drugs from rave bars, and Saachi simply knows his native language better, and he speaks English with an accent just like me.

During one of the exercises, Saachi spoke up and shared his emotional problem, seeking advice from the group and moderators. He is only 23 years old, and his girlfriend is 37. He has been living with her since he left the reservation. She is a professor at the University of South Dakota and buys him cars, clothes, drugs, and allows him to live his life and “fool around”. She always patiently waits for him whenever he shows up. She supported his decision to seek treatment, and even helped him secure funding from the tribe for it. She promised to Saachi’s own admission, he doesn’t know what love is, but he likes his “sugar mama”. He needs advice on whether to leave her and search for true love or stay with his “benefactor” and wait for love to come naturally – if it’s real. A debate started quickly. A few honest men told him to stay with the MILF until he finds something better. A wise old man (said to be from Šumadija) said: “It’s easier to find a real job when you work and earn a salary!” Christians, on the other hand, believed that love is more important than desire.

I am finishing the book “Eyes of a Child” by Richard North Patterson. It is a well-written courtroom thriller. Since I don’t have a table lamp, I have trouble seeing at night, so I read books with large print that were created in the 90s for older readers, primarily retirees who have the “luxury” of reading in America. The cool thing is that I can now boast that I read a book of 835 pages in just five days.

STORY 5 – TARA’S FATHER’S DEATH

Tara’s dad had a brain tumor and the surgery was unsuccessful. He didn’t want to undergo another surgery, so he decided to end his life at home, fully aware of the situation. On the first day, while the nurse was explaining the details of home care, a little sparrow landed on the table in the corner of the terrace. The bird pecked at the crumbs for a while, looking towards the living room where the father was lying. After dinner, the sparrow moved to the kitchen. They tried to catch and chase it away, but the uninvited guest literally disappeared. The next morning, it was gone. That day, Tara’s father was in great pain, groaning loudly and waiting for medical help. The bird chirped from the terrace the whole time. During the night, the father died, and the sparrow didn’t move from the table. When they took the father away, the bird disappeared forever.

At that time, Tara’s sister was a pupil of the American army stationed in North Dakota (again, Dakota in the story!). On the day their father died, she saw a bird in her yard. She sent a photo to her sister in Arizona – a sparrow, the same one from Tara’s terrace.

In ancient Egyptian mythology, the sparrow’s task was to take the soul of the recently deceased to heaven.

For the record, Tara is definitely not one of those who are into religion, magic, or any kind of higher power. She shared the same story with a group of about ten people ten days later. She didn’t change any details.

***

On workdays, therapy sessions are followed by meetings and other activities such as yoga, meditation, and recreation, starting at 9 in the morning and going on until 8 in the evening with short breaks in between. However, some enthusiastic members of the group have organized another meeting at 8:30. A few of us, mostly older individuals, use the breaks to read in the room and steal a few moments of silence.

I have noticed that patients are afraid of solitude. An addict is like a child, and alcohol and drugs are their mischievous ways.  When they consume them unnoticed, they indulge in mischief until they get caught. Then they promise never to do it again until the next opportunity arises. Even physical punishment doesn’t help. The only cure is for the “child” to grow up, which is difficult to achieve in such an environment. There must be a personal desire, will, and motivation to become a responsible adult.

My attention was drawn to the first potential affair by the suffering of Brka. Stojanka Olujić, a well-preserved lady from San Diego and a mother of two teenagers, is openly flirting with my friend Brka. They use every break to sneak off and study the Big Book together on the couches in the playroom. This is one way to use the “Alcoholics Anonymous Bible” for practical purposes. Brka is still pretending to be honest while trying to appear innocent.

STORY 6 – MIKE

A sanatorium for addiction treatment is not the best place to form a first impression, but I immediately noticed Mike: honest, hardworking, and hopefully – persistent. His parents, with whom he lived near our church, St. Sava, belong to the middle class. His father was a craftman, and his mother worked in stores for years and then as a clerk in a small company. As a high school student, he wanted to hang out with the popular crowd. They drank and smoked marijuana together. They invited him to parties, and usually, even the “cool” parents joined them. He was unhappy that he didn’t have such a family himself, which drove him to drink even more. After finishing high school, his popular friends went to college, and Mike found a job at a bar on Mill Avenue. He met up with his former friends, but to them, he was just a bartender who could get them drinks right away. He learned his father’s craft and began working in the field.

He is good at his job, makes good money, but continues with alcohol. His younger brother, whom Mike loves above all, organizes a family intervention. He promises to stop drinking, but quickly breaks the promise. His drunkenness becomes more frequent and serious. He sometimes loses his power of judgment, and then his memory. The police catch him driving drunk, and he spends the night in jail. On New Year’s Eve, he ended up in a yard and knocked on the door of strangers. The drowsy host, holding a baseball bat, realized that it was a drunk person who posed no threat, so he called Mike’s parents instead of the police.

The last straw that broke the camel’s back happened a month ago when he woke up in a canal by the road. The water had only partially entered the car because the canal was shallow. Fishermen immediately called the police, who he couldn’t escape from. The court ordered him to undergo treatment to avoid going to jail. Mike is an incredibly intelligent man, of good character, and a big heart, determined to overcome his problems. I would love for him to succeed.

There are many new faces around me. The group is taking on a completely different profile. They measured my blood pressure this morning: 126/82, pulse 67. Like a baby.

I use every break for writing or reading in the room, so important details often slip by me. Fortunately, my roommate informs me about everything.

1. Mister U. misunderstood the comment of the biggest troublemaker, the young Joe. They got in each other’s faces and exchanged a few “Fuck you, idiot!” and “You too, moron!” before quickly calming down. Now I understand why Mr. U. came to treatment with a black eye.

2. Mike told Whitey, “Oh, you finally showered! It’s nice of you to think of all of us.” Whitey took it very seriously. He got angry and made a scene in front of everyone. Mike apparently realized then that such a joke could hurt someone. He hugged Whitey and apologized in front of everyone.

3. And of course, the pearl at the end. Jose a scruffy Hispanic guy, was quietly and without much fuss kicked out of the facility today. The reason? A little naughty, he had sex with a patient of a different gender. No one knows who the lady is, but my roommate and I suspect two people. Of course, she denied doing it willingly, so they just kicked him out of treatment. I’m unclear how they came to this decision. If she didn’t give him consent, he should be held accountable for rape. Otherwise, they could have either kept the whole thing quiet or kicked them both out.

STORY 7 – ANDY G.

When he was born, his father was already in prison. He was sentenced to 40 years for armed robbery of several banks. Andra’s mother was a drug addict and engaged in prostitution and petty theft, so she also ended up behind bars. Andy G. was left completely alone at the age of one. He was placed in a foster family. By the age of three, he had already been in several such families before being adopted.

He grew up with new parents and an older “brother” who suffered from a severe mental disorder. At first, everything was fine, but then his brother started to beat and bully him. His parents didn’t handle the situation well, and then his father started to beat and punish him. He first took drugs at the age of 12 and tried to cause as much trouble as possible in his own life and the lives of those around him. A very likable and humorous young man, he is 26 years old and has spent 8 years in prison. He has overdosed twice and once experienced clinical death. He has buried a large number of girlfriends and friends, spending a lot of time on the streets as a homeless person.

“I would love to be my own man,” he tells me while we watch TV, “to do something I love and am good at.”

“Have you thought about stand-up comedy?” I ask him sincerely.

Last night, for the first time here, I played chess. I see the pieces in a box but not the board. In the corner in front of the window, there are countless boxes with all kinds of games. At the bottom of the pile, I find the chess set. A box like the one smugglers used to bring from Romania long ago. I arrange the rooks, pawns, knights…I see that some “warriors” are missing, so I decide to combine pieces from two sets. That way I did half the job, the chess set is ready, but there is no sign of a partner. A few days later, Alex arrives. A nice young man of 26. He got hooked on Fentanyl, a new drug that destroys the lives of young people and that dealers mix into all other drugs because it causes incredible addiction. The symptoms of withdrawal are horrible. First comes insomnia. Alex hasn’t slept for eight days. The previous record, which he hopes he won’t break, was 18 sleepless nights.

DREAMS – 10

I – We have guests coming over, so Boka sends me to the store to buy meat for lunch. The supermarket is crowded. I see Viking, whom I have talked about before, working as a butcher. Since we are friends in the dream, Viking takes a large piece of meat, puts it on a foil tray, adds onions, peppers, and tomatoes, covers it all up, and gives it to me for free. I hurry home, Boka puts the lunch in the oven. A few hours later, we realize that the meat is too greasy and cannot be served to our guests. Baba Mica disagrees and says that it’s not a big deal, and that the guests should adapt to the situation. While we argue, Sneza enters the kitchen and says not to worry because she ordered a roasted pig that will be delivered soon.

II – The cinema “Šumadija” is showing a Festival of domestic films called “Mala Pula”. I’m looking at the schedule and I discover a movie I’ve read about before. Cvetković plays the main role, along with Laza Ristovski and Gvero. Another movie on the repertoire features a sexy scene with Milena Dravić and Boris Komnenić. On the first night, they’re showing a film that I don’t know much about. I’m getting ready to go to the cinema and Ada and Boka decide to join me. We leave from Boka’s old house by car, driving down the street next to the public pool, with two lanes in each direction. Boka skillfully maneuvers the car while we’re driving. Suddenly, the SUV cuts us off. My mother manages to avoid a collision. We arrive at the cinema “Šumadija”, where everyone is smoking.

STORY 8 – DALE

The caretaker Kale seemed quite empty, impersonal, and uninteresting, but the superficial impression can be deceiving. He was born as a child of sin, conceived from his mother’s infidelity with some guy. Her husband gave her $200 for an abortion and immediately filed for divorce. However, the mother decided to give birth to Dale and immediately put him up for adoption. Until he was twelve years old, Dale only knew his adoptive parents. When he found out the truth, he began to wonder why he was abandoned.

Around that time, he started being bullied at school. His parents were busy, so they enrolled him in the scouts and other school clubs. He was surrounded by friends, counselors, but also temptations. He played soccer and water polo. At one of the scout camps, his friend offered him marijuana, and he accepted without a word. In the years that followed, he tried every drug that existed. At the age of 18, he started dealing drugs. Throughout his drug-dealing career, he lived with his parents and used methamphetamine. His father and mother pretended not to see what was happening around them. To satisfy his friends, Kale switched to heroin. Those were the years when he hit rock bottom, both physically and morally. When his grandmother died, he took the opportunity, with only him and his drunk uncle present, to take the diamond ring off her finger and pawn it for $80. His parents convinced the uncle, who increased his dosage due to grief, and died of liver cirrhosis the following year. That’s when Dale decided to change his life radically. He joined the US army and went to Afghanistan after basic training. During his military service, he didn’t use drugs but destroyed himself with alcohol. He successfully completed his four-year military service and returned home to California. He got a job as a guard on one of the largest estates in Bell Air. He made great money, parked cars for Hollywood stars, and socialized with beautiful women. But since all good things come to an end, during the COVID epidemic, he lost his job and, without much hesitation, returned to drugs, now in a double role – as a dealer and a user. In moments of weakness and honesty, he confessed to his parents that he had stolen his grandmother’s ring. As a sign of repentance, he agreed to start addiction treatment. In 2021, he came to Rečni Izvor. He successfully completed his therapy and a year later, he got a job as a caretaker.

SORY 9 – GEORGE

He was my first roomate. Great guy. Amazing blue eyes, kind that girls are going crazy for. Working as a plumber, he always kept a fridge full of beer in his truck. He drank at home and during work hours. His customers were happy that their sinks, basins, or toilets were finally unclogged and didn’t pay attention to the master’s beer breath. He drank more and more until he started to slur his words. 

His wife started to cheat on him. First she kicked him out of badroom. After sleeping on the couch for several months, his wife kicked him out of their shared home, and Dale moved in with his parents. His wife didn’t waste any time, first inviting her colleague to move in, and then they all went on a vacation together. When George heard about this, it was the last straw, and his beer tank couldn’t handle it. He ended up in rehab where he had 40 days to think about his life and where to go from there. He used every free moment to write a diary addressed to his wife, something along the lines of “Love Letters and Promises.”

He left the center with a lot of hope, determined to get rid of his addiction for good. We said goodbye with the wish to see each other one day in a much nicer place, definitely not here. Not even ten days passed and blue-eyed George returned. After a fight with his soon-to-be ex-wife, he drank so much that he got cramps, choked, and barely survived.

DREAMS 11

I came to Kragujevac for just a few days to see my parents and get my ID card. I went to the municipality with Boka, and at the counter, there was a very kind young man. He told me I needed a form, photos, and payment to a bank account. The account number was carved on the wooden counter where I leaned while bowing to Serbian bureaucracy behind his counter. To make everything not quite perfect, the bank account was carved upside down, facing the clerk, not the client. The friendly “counter master” read me the numbers in English. With a grateful smile, we started searching for documents. The next few hours, my mother and I searched unsuccessfully for a bookstore, a photography store… We went back home. Grandpa Dača came back from work and was getting ready for an afternoon nap, in the living room upstairs facing the street, on the bed behind the door where I slept as a child.

A little later, we set out on our search again. This time, our efforts pay off as we purchased the form and the photographer captured my beauty on film. From the former Jugoton building, we spot Baka Manu crossing the street with another lady. We honk and wave, and she invites us for coffee. We submit our documents at the municipality…

“Great,” I say wearily, “let’s go home. There’s still so much to do.”

“What about coffee first?” Boka asks disappointedly.

I have one more week left in this place. I planned to write a lot and read at least two more books. After a morning meeting, I hurriedly prepare for recreation when I hear a knock on the door. Reba, a clerk, invites me to her office where I am informed that my health insurance will no longer cover my treatment, and I must go home immediately – today, in fact. We call Sneža, who rearranges her schedule for the day and accompanies me home.

At an improvised farewell with the other patients, I read my farewell letter to addiction:

“Goodbye, Uncle Whiskey. You came for a short visit three years ago and decided to stay forever. I’m sorry, dear uncle, but you’re no longer welcome here.

It wasn’t always so terrible. You used to come over on weekends or holidays, usually in the company of my dear uncle Wine. It’s okay, Uncle, admit it, you were always jealous of him. I understand, but I don’t approve.

When I was at my lowest, you came alone, supposedly to help me, but in reality, you messed up my life. I’m sorry, Uncle Whiskey, but it’s time for you to go. Enough with the deception. When my loved ones left my life, you convinced me that you would help me and that it would be easier to get over them in your company. You fooled me, you cheat, and made my life a living hell.

There’s no hard feelings, Uncle, but it’s time for you to leave. Aunt Coffee and Aunt Water are on their way. Goodbye, old man, and good riddance.

PS: If you see Uncle Wine, tell him he’s not welcome here anymore either.”