Choosing a Full Life.. For Myself, Or Everyone I Love?
By Mama Roxc on January 23, 2014
I struggle daily. In all honesty, I am struggling right now. I just took my mental/psych meds, and I ponder (like I do every single day).. What am I living up to/for? I want to am supposed to say "I live my life to make myself happy, and in turn my family is happy as well". The true, deep meaning, though, is far from that.
I struggle daily with my mental health and medication use [not overuse]; it's far too complicated to understand. I truly forgot what I was going to say in the first place, but I think I know where I was headed. See, I suffer from a lot of medical issues, a medical mystery, as some might say. Let me start with the begininning, just to give ya a little overview of what may ail me.
Back in "the day", (I suppose when my teenage daughter was young) I was a happy critter. I'd go to concerts with my [then young] adorable daughter, I'd drink a few, find a sitter [or put her to bed], and I would have fun all night with my friends and roommates. I was a single mother back then, living with two guys, and living my life, fulfillingly. Then, a clap of thunder ::BAM!:: Thrown against a wall at a concert. I almost lost my mobility that night, but in turn for my mobility I paid the ultimate price: Opiate addiction. Now, now, I know what everyone thinks about opioids and opioid dependence ... I was one of them. So now I am in excruciating pain, on a daily basis, and the only thing I "HAD" to turn to, according to Dr. Whoo-Haa, was opiates. "Take one 4 times a day" turned into "Take 2, 4 times a day". It was the beginning of a roller-coaster ride I was NOT prepared for.
Many nights turned into day, days turned into weeks, food didn't exsist; basically, I was a non-sleeping anorexic disaster. My weight PLUMMETED DOWN to 105, and don't get me wrong, I looked sick. Why? Because I was. [Still am]
I apologize for going WAAAAY off topic here. Rewinding the tapes, again, let me give you a background for my life: Paranoid Schizophrenic, adult ADHD, Panic disorder, thyroid disease, Osteo Arthritis [OA], chronic Rhabdomyelitis, broken back [loss of 2 discs, but replaced, never recovered fully], multiple traumatic head injuries, seriously, the list goes on. I truly apologize.
So, one day, I run out of Norco (10/325)[aka Vicodin]. Have you ever seen a television portrayal of a heroin addict going through detox? MULTIPLY THAT BY 10. Opiates are a very dangerous drug, folks. I am the FIRST to admit that. With no insurance, and NO money, I couldn't go see my pill-writing Quack of a Dr. Right before I almost died for the second time, I called my mother. I told her to come over right away. My daughter is seeing this, at 6 years old, everyone. NOT COOL. My mother quickly began crying, as her daughter [me] was down-right.. well, I looked like a corpse. She tried to force feed me... Eheh. Not going to happen. Keep in mind, my mother was is an alcoholic. She knows what it felt like when she went two nights without a coctail. So after digging deep in her skull to find an answer, she came up with the brilliant idea to call my father. Real quick: my father has NEVER had a physical addiction. He smoked pot. That's it. Nothing else. Physical withdrawl? BAH, that's imaginary [to him]. So, my dad came over. He saw his sweet little angel laying half naked in her bed, sweating like a whore in church, refusing to eat or drink anything, dying. He called [blank-blank] Addiction Services. He knew I had to go inpatient.
After 6 days of mandatory AA, CA, and NA meetings, completely withdrawn from opiods and benzos [yes, I began taking Xanax again; I can't function without] I was a new, broken woman. Why broken? Because my pain was so excruciating, I wished I was dead. No other way. My back was cringed up, I could barely move because my OA was preventing my hip and knee from working, and I had ZERO quality of life. I found medical insurance, found my Dr. Quack, got my meds back. Then, I found my husband. Now, I told you this was going to be a long one, guys and gals..
I met my husband on MySpace [lol, remember THAT one?]. We would hang out with the same people, talk online, etc etc. We both felt love for one another. He always had a girlfriend when I was single, and when he was single vice versa. One day, I found out that my boyfriend had cheated on me. I went into a raging lunaztic state, called my mother to come pick up my daughter, and I cleaned HOUSE. I called my sweet MySpace buddy to tell him what a P.O.S my ex was, and what had happened. He was in tears on the phone, because he had learned ::gasp:: 2 hours earlier that his girlfriend had cheated on him. WHAT?
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