I use pseudonyms here.
I first used crystal meth in 2004, at the age of 23. I was reminded recently that it was in May 2006 that I was diagnosed with HIV and neuro-syphilis co-infection. It was most likely the reason why I started to seriously deal with my addiction. I don’t know exactly how I found out about the in-patient Rainbow program at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH), but I do remember asking my general practitioner (GP) for a referral.
“Of course, I’ll write you one,” I distinctly remember her saying with a determined voice. Her referral made sure that I entered the rehab in either Dec of 2006 or early 2007 (my recollection is spotty). I believe the fee was subsidized, as I don’t remember paying out of pocket.
The rehab facility was at CAMH’s Brentcliffe location at the time, near Eglinton and Laird, in the North York area of Toronto. As I understand, the facility has since closed down.
To get to the building, one must walk north up Laird, all the way to the end, past all these nice, detached brownstones. Behind a tall wall of trees was the two-storey Brentcliffe building, and it backed out into a ravine with walking trails. It felt secluded, ensconced within its private location. Our two counselors for the duration of the program were Jocelyn and Dale.
The Rainbow program at CAMH is specifically intended for folks from the LGBTQ2SIA+ community. I was put in a cohort with 8 other individuals: there was a white woman who worked at Children’s Aid Society (CAS), an older gentleman, a guy whose substance of choice was crack (I later found out that he lived in the same building as my dealer), I remember there was a guy named Kelvin, then another white guy named Harry (who was playful in his speech, I remember, and roomed with Kelvin during the program), there was also Rachel, a two-spirit Indigenous woman who came from northern Ontario, and another young white lesbian woman (let’s call her Fay) whose substance of choice was alcohol (she also came from a middle class family, I realized, as she wasted no time telling us that her mom was a high school principal who’d just received a salary increase that made her reach the $100k/annual salary milestone).
I was chosen to be Nathan’s roommate, the guy whose substance of choice was crack. Our bedroom had two single beds, placed on each end of the room, and a washroom. I can’t remember if the washroom had a shower in it. The first week of the program was nice because Nathan and I would talk well into the night, getting to know each other, as we lay in our own bed in the dark. He was older than me, tall, lanky, with curly long auburn hair. Soft spoken and timid, he kept a teddy bear on his bed, and he would hug it as he slept.
Each day of the program consisted of workshops on things such as how one can create daily routines so that our days have a structure that would be conducive to recovery. There were also workshops on spirituality, many counselling group sessions with Jocelyn and Dale, fitness, etc.
I remember enjoying the food that we got from the cafeteria. They fed us well. It was intentional because, I later learned, folks who were entering rehab and suffering from addiction were usually suffering also in their eating habits. The program made sure that we had access to as many calories as possible, so that we could regain our strength.
One of the things I remember learning was when I was having breakfast and was clumsily trying to cut up one whole hard-boiled egg with my spoon. Fay saw me struggling, so she said, “Hey, here’s how you cut up your eggs,” and she pressed her fork down on the egg, took her butter knife and pressed the edge down between the tines of the fork, until the egg was sliced nicely and separately. To this day, I still remember her whenever I eat a hard-boiled egg.
While our Rainbow group were going through our own in-patient program, there were also Men’s and Women’s groups happening concurrently to ours. On break times, and during some select gym activities, our group would be able to play volleyball with the other groups. The only memory I have with the other groups was a conversation I had with someone from the Women’s group in the elevator. We were making small talk, and I had asked her if it was her first time being there.
“No, this is probably my third time in rehab,” she said.
Ok, that’s one thing I don’t want to do, I thought to myself.
I acted like a sponge as I went through the program. I wanted to take as much of it all in, so that I learned, not wanting to repeat rehab again.
We were allowed to go back home, if we could, on weekends. Nathan decided to head back to his place on the first weekend of the program. I believe I stayed behind, not really wanting to be in my home space at the time. Some of us stayed over the weekend, and so we just hung out.
When Sunday came, he came back to Brentcliffe. I can’t remember what really happened, but I do remember being in a conversation with my other group mates about how odd he was acting that day. Eventually, Nathan confessed to the counselors that he had used that weekend. Unfortunately, that meant he broke the rules, and that he was no longer allowed to continue in the program. So, he left.
This meant, of course, that I had the room to myself from that day on. And for the rest of the program, I enjoyed the extra privacy. I do remember thinking about him a lot after. We had grown close, having told each other stories about our childhoods and our upbringing until we were too tired that we had to go to sleep. I never saw him after, but I wish him well to this day.
We were allowed to have visitors, and Fay had her girlfriend come visit. If I remember correctly, the only people I knew who came to visit me were my friend Cris and my best friend from junior high, Amy. I don’t remember well what Cris and I talked about when she came to visit, but I do remember she brought me pho from Ginger restaurant on Yonge street.
On the day that Amy came to visit, I met her at the front door, where she had to sign in with the guards.
“Write your name on the tag, please, and keep it on while you’re in here,” the guard instructed her as he handed her a blank sticker.
“Should I write, ‘Sane’?” she joked, referencing Homer Simpson.
I felt like I was on vacation. It felt good to just slow down, and to just focus on myself. I felt cared for. Naturally, this showed in my temperament. I went about my days in the program light and carefree. Even jovial. At one point, Kelvin asked me, “Why are you always so cool, calm, and collected?”
I just shrugged.
I do remember that I had entered the program around the time that I started dating an Argentinian guy named Martin, whom I had met in a pnp session. I can mention his name now because he has since passed away.
We both bonded over our struggle with crystal. Martin was smart, funny, and had a taste for the finer things in life. We had promised to each other to stay away from crystal, and he was emotionally supportive when I told him I was going into rehab.
Maybe my budding relationship with Martin also made me more easy-breezy going into the program. Maybe the promise of a new beginning with Martin made me feel like anything was possible, including getting over crystal. In any case, I was treating rehab like it was a day at the spa. But, this time, it’s several weeks, not just a day. I also liked using Margaret Cho’s material during one of the group sessions where we were discussing whether sex was intertwined with our use.
I said, “I like using when I go to the bathhouse because I become uninhibited.”
“I just keep my door open and tell guys to ‘stick it in!” I joked, plagiarizing Margaret’s jokes, and causing everyone in the group circle to laugh.
Dale, smiling, said, “So you were the one…,” throwing me a scolding look, adding to the group's laughter.
It was very nice to get to know the others in the rainbow program. We had become closer because we spent a lot of time together. On our second weekend, some of us decided to go on an excursion to Dufferin Mall. I don’t quite remember why we chose Dufferin Mall, as it was a bit of a drive from Eglinton and Laird. But the woman who worked at CAS (let’s call her Grace) offered to drive us there. If I remember correctly, Rachel, Harry, Kelvin, and myself all had a good time riding in the car while Grace drove us to the mall. When we got there, some of us stayed together to do our own shopping. Rached and Grace went on their own, while Kelvin and myself hung out. We ended up staying a bit, but, eventually, we all piled into Grace’s car and went back to Brentcliffe.
The following morning, during a group counselling session, we were going around for a check in. When it was Rachel's turn to talk, she paused and said, “I’m hurting.”
“What’s going on?” Dale asked.
Rachel said that Grace made her feel unsafe the previous night at the mall.
“Grace asked me to try on a dress, so I did,” she said. “When I was inside the dressing room and was undressing, she asked me to come out and show her the dress.”
Everyone was silent.
“She just kept asking me to come out of the dressing room, but I didn’t want to come out. She wouldn’t listen to me. You persisted in asking me to come out of the dressing room,” Rachel addressed Grace.
I can’t remember what else she said, but I do remember that Grace eventually started crying during that circle. In between sobs, she said that she didn’t mean to make anyone feel unsafe. I’m totally not giving this story justice because my recollection is spotty. But I do remember Grace eventually getting up and leaving the room. We found out later that day that she had decided to leave the program altogether.
Looking back, I feel that I was still young and getting used to speaking up. In my own imperfect way, I tried to speak truth to power. However, there were times when, as I look back, I stumbled in balancing between speaking out and being a kind person.
For instance, I remember that in one of the group sessions, Harry was speaking about his struggles in life. For the life of me, I don’t remember the specifics of what he talked about, but I do remember responding, by saying, “wow, Harry, I’m shocked to hear a white guy like you talk about how much you’ve struggled,” I commented.
“The reason why I say that is because I feel that all the systems that we live in - educational, justice, political - are built for you to succeed,” I continued without an ounce of self-awareness. I don’t remember how he responded, but I think even Dale was speechless.
I wish that I could take that back. It was not helpful. Definitely not supportive.
I remember one day during a group session with Jocelyn where the subject was about confronting past memories of us facing homophobia, or any kind of hate towards us. After we had gone around for each of us to speak, Jocelyn asked us to go up to the white board that was on one side of the wall of the room and write the words that come to mind when we think of community, connection, and love. Each person went up and wrote something.
I wrote “brothers and sisters,” on the board and sat back down, facing the board. Each person continued to get up and wrote on the board, and I sensed that some of us were getting emotional. I looked to where Rachel, the indigenous woman, was standing and saw that Kelvin had her in his arms as she quietly sobbed. Everyone was hugging each other.
Brothers and sisters.
I sat on my chair, and, for the life of me, I can’t remember the reason why now, but I started crying. The emotions started coming slowly first, like light rain. Then, the next thing I knew, I started sobbing. I sobbed and sobbed. I couldn’t move from my chair. My legs felt like bricks. It seemed like every sad feeling I ever felt just engulfed me at that moment like torrential rain, and there was nothing I could do but bow down and let the tears fall. It felt like I was crying for every sad memory I ever had.
Brothers and sisters.
The words kept repeating in my head. I just cried and sobbed. I couldn’t stop.
I don’t know how long I had my head down, but I eventually looked up and saw that Jocelyn and everyone else had gathered around where I sat. Through tears she asked, “Jose, can I give you a hug?”
The entire group embraced each other in a comforting cocoon. Disengaging, we slowly calmed down. We eventually managed to sit around in a circle for a check-in. One by one, each person talked about what they thought of ‘community’, and how they felt after the exercise.
When my turn came, Jocelyn took a deep breath, and kindly asked, “I’m curious, Jose, how are you feeling?”
“Well. Cool, calm, collected? Out the window!” I said with a smile as the group erupted in laughter.
As the program came into close, Jocelyn had asked us to sit in a tighter circle at our last group session. She brought out a colourful ball of yarn and held on to the end string. She asked us to give the ball to another person in the group and say something about that person that struck us as memorable or nice or wonderful about them. One by one, the ball of yarn was passed along. I remember it was H who handed me the ball and who said some nice things about me. I can’t remember who I gave the ball to, but, at the end, what resulted was what looked like a web of yarn in the middle of our circle, each person being connected to each other by a string.
I remember asking everyone to pause so that I could take a picture of the web of yarn. Unfortunately, I’ve lost the digital copy of that picture, but I still remember it to this day.
The next memory I have was at our program graduation. All groups, including the Women’s, Men’s and Rainbow, all graduated at the same time. We were encouraged to invite our friends and families. I didn’t. I don’t know why I didn’t invite anyone I know. Maybe I just didn’t want to bother them.
All the graduates sat in a row next to the stage, facing the audience in the gymnasium. What I do remember was seeing an elegant woman clad in a luxurious, black fur coat and dark sunglasses waving at F as the woman found a seat among the audience. We each stood up and spoke for a few minutes. I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember feeling like I took my speech unseriously, cracking a joke about finally finishing the program, and seeing Dale in the audience laugh at my joke. I sat back down right next to Harry. Kelvin went up to speak next.
By the end of the program Harry and Kelvin had become very close, having spent the entire time as roommates. I remember Kelvin mentioning Harry’s name in his speech, and Harry breaking down in tears right next to me. I reached out and patted him in the back, consoling him.
That’s the last memory I have of being in rehab. After its conclusion, I went back home to my parents’ apartment in the Church and Wellesley area of Toronto. I didn’t keep in touch with people from my program. I just left and went back home. I continued my treatment in CAMH through their after-care program, which meant attending group meetings within the rainbow program.
Maybe it’s because it’s been almost twenty years since I went to rehab that I don’t remember whether I made any serious attempts at self-exploration within it. Maybe I did and I just can’t remember. But, what I do remember was having fun, and feeling safe and cared for. It was nice to have my own room, at least for a while. Because, I didn’t have that at my parents’ apartment in the village.
What I think I got out of it was learning some basics. Learning that consistently making one’s own bed every morning sets one up for a good day. Learning that fitness is just as important as balanced nutrition. Learning that prepping one’s meals before a busy week would be extra helpful and creates structure to one’s week. Even learning that one can use their fork and knife to efficiently cut a hard-boiled egg.
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