Addiction

Today I learned that if you are addict, you are labeled an addict. Always. Forever. It doesn't go away. Kind of like this headache I have had for the last 5 weeks. 

This headache is never ending. Nosy Nora aptly named its measurement "Headacheosity Level." There are days when the level is very low. And days when it is debilitating. 

It is on both sides of my head. It is in my temples, the base of my skull, behind my eyes, and on the crown of my head. 

It comes with never ending neck pain as well. 

I have tried massage therapy. I have tried acupuncture. I have tried chiropractic treatments. I have tried Advil, Tylenol, Asprin, Naproxin, and various combinations of those as well. I have tried drinking more water, drinking less water, sleeping, walking, stretching, staying still ... Nothing works. Nothing touches the headache. Massage therapy worked for 2 days. My Headacheosity Level went down to a 0.5 out of 10. The neck pain stayed. And after 2 glorious days, the headache came back. 

Trying to function, to focus, to accomplish anything, is challenging. At times impossible. Chronic pain is exhausting. 

After 5 weeks of suffering, and having talked it over with Nosy Nora, I decided that I could handle having a bottle of Tylenol 3 in my cabinet. That I would be able to take it as prescribed. That if it didn't help with the pain I would be able to return the rest to the pharmacy. I spent weeks thinking it over. Weighing the pros and cons. Trying to decide if taking pain meds for actual legitimate pain would compromise my sobriety. 

I decided that I am strong enough. 

That if I am strong enough to endure this pain, I am strong enough to resist the temptation to abuse narcotics like codeine. 

Apparently I wasted my energy thinking about it. 

I went to see my doctor today and she said no. She wouldn't even discuss it. 

I thought that I had worked through my shame around my addiction. I thought that I was comfortable with the reasons why I began abusing sedatives and narcotics. 

Today, as I sat in my doctor's office listening to her refuse to prescribe me little white pills with the potential to dull this headache and neck pain after 5 weeks of suffering, I realized that I will always been seen as an addict. I will never be trusted to use pain medications appropriately. 

And my shame came flooding back into my body. My cheeks flushed. My heart raced and sank into my stomach. 

I am an addict. 

And I always will be. 

My honesty. My self-awareness. My choice to be sober. My courage to tell my doctor. My choice after 30 years of abusing drugs, to stop. To just, stop. None of that changes the fact that I can't be trusted not to abuse Tylenol 3. 

So instead, I will lay here on my couch, alternating between an ice pack and a heating pad, feeling like everyone around me must be sick and tired and bored of hearing about my pain. And my head will throb with the shame of addiction. 

Be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

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** All artwork is mine 

Asking for support

For many years I felt alone. 

Most of my life in fact. 

I felt like I wasn't allowed to have emotions, let alone express them. So I held everything inside. 

The pain of holding in my emotions led me to self-medicate. I turned to food, and drugs, and purging, and shame. 

I was afraid to ask for help. 

When I was 13, I wanted nothing more than to die. And I told no one. I was afraid that no one could possibly understand my pain. That I would be laughed at. Scorned. That i would be punished for not being able to suck it up and to survive on my own. 

So I suffered in silence. 

As I got older, things only got worse. I had more access to drugs. I had money to spend. I had more privacy for my bingeing and purging. 

I was so afraid to ask for help. Asking for help meant that I was weak. It meant that I would be judged. It meant that I would be deserted. Abandoned. I would be even more alone. So I said nothing. 

I was afraid. 

And time continued to pass me by. I felt trapped by my own fears and sadness. I was afraid of everything. I never wanted to carry a purse because someone might steal it. I couldn't have the car windows open because someone could reach in and take what was on the front passenger seat, or worse, attack me. I couldn't walk alone because I might be raped. I was afraid of the tires falling off my car. I was afraid that I would fall down the stairs. I was afraid that my house would burn down. 

I was trapped by my anxiety. In a prison of fears. 

So I focused on solving other people's problems. I put everyone's needs ahead of my own. I joined a million committees. I took extra courses at university. I took on 3 jobs. 

And this continued into my adult life. Focusing on other people's problems. Helping everyone else. Taking on their emotions until I felt like I was being stretched in 10 directions at one time. 

And then one day, I had enough. Enough of being scared. Enough of holding in all my feelings. Enough of taking care of everyone else and not taking care of myself. I knew that if I didn't ask for help that I was going to snap. 

I needed support. 

So ... I went online and looked up therapists. I looked through profiles, reading about different modalities. But to be honest, I was mostly looking at the photos. Trying to decide who looked kind. Who looked like they wouldn't judge me. Whose eyes I could trust. 

I chose Nosy Nora. 

At first I was resistant. Asking for support was scary. It meant giving myself over to someone else. Opening up and talking about those pesky things called "feelings" and it was hard. She kept asking me about feelings. I actually had to google a list of feeling words. Write them down. Refer to them. So that I had words to choose from. 

It got easier over time. As I got to know her, I grew to trust her. And I started to learn that it was ok to share my feelings. That it was okay to ask for help. 

The more I began to ask Nosy Nora for support, the harder it became. I felt so needy. I felt like a burden. I felt like I was too much. (Sometimes I still do) But the more she supported me, the more I began to realize that it was okay to need support. She kept telling me that everyone needs each other. That no one can go through life alone. 

So slowly, I let myself be vulnerable and I began to open up to friends. I began to ask for support. And shockingly to me .... I got it. 

People were willing to listen. People were willing to be with me. No matter how messed up I was. 

Because I was able to ask for support, I was able to face my darkness. To open myself up. To share my secrets. To tell my story. To start this blog. To use my experiences to help other people. To share with the world that we are not alone. 

As Nosy Nora says, we all need each other (even if I still often struggle to accept that and feel like my need is a burden). 

The more I ask for support, the more I find it. In unexpected places. The more I share my story, the more love I receive. 

And even when I feel completely alone, I am not. 

Thank goodness for friendship. For love. For my spouse. For my colleagues. For my friends. 

Thank goodness for support. And for hugs. 

If you feel alone. Ask for help. It's okay. I promise. 

Be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

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