THE roommate

Insomnia remained a concerning issue for several days. I stopped caring and I focused on the days. The activities and group meetings were awesome. I learned to love rehab in no time. I especially loved coloring and yoga. I started coloring about three years ago. It was relaxing. Of course I gave it up just like everything else. Drinking won the „relax contest”. Yoga was my friend for a while as well. Unfortunately, it joined the group of losers of my alcoholic life. We also watched movies once in a while and gained knowledge about different cognitive behavioral therapies. As I mentioned, the people in the group were friendly, understanding, and protective. They got my back no matter what. Crying and laughing together was liberating.

On the third day, the nurses smiled at me and announced that I am going to move into another room where a roommate was waiting for me. Wow. I immediately threw a little tantrum deep inside. I complained but it didn’t help. My evil cheerleader – who appeared on my left shoulder right after I was born – whispered in my ear: “You do not want a roommate. You will not be able to handle her. You will fail to fall asleep again.” My dangerous imagination screened awful movies of fear in my head. All the joy I experienced behind the hospital walls faded away. Until the evening. My roommate did not feel good. She arrived on the same day I did; she slept for two days. The only thing I knew about her was her name and her choice of poison which was alcohol. I tried to feed my inner night owl in order to avoid sleeping. At one point, I had to give up. I crawled into bed and looked at her. Her face was troubled and her side of the room was messy because she did not have time or energy to put her stuff away. I actually felt calm. It surprised me. I had to admit that having another human being next to me was quite nice. 

I could sleep!


Next day we started talking. She was honest and shared her thoughts and feelings with me. I did the same. We became friends…forever.


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