Oh boy, rehab, what an experience...During my sophomore year of college I was pulled out by my parents, who had been notified by my friends of my opiate and xanax addiction. I knew I couldn't continue with the way I was acting, so I agreed to come home and go to rehab.

I didn't consider myself an addict, just someone addicted to highly addicting pharmaceutical chemicals. Rehab for me was more of a place to get away from my daily drug induced routine, rather than a place for me to learn about addiction.

While rehab was mostly all group meetings, learning to identify your triggers, tools to ignore cravings, and other shit like that, it was most importantly a safe haven for people battling similar issues to talk to one another and reflect on themselves.

Most memorable for me, and most useful of the whole rehab experience, was a realization I had on my second or third day there. I was walking from breakfast across the campus and to our group meeting area, when I looked around and it hit me. I was in rehab. 20 year old who should be at college with my friends, learning, and socializing, was stuck in rehab because of the bad decision making and mad habits I had gotten into.