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

...

** 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

...

numbing

ways to be numb:

pills
food
alcohol
extreme sports
exercise
sleep
avoiding people and social situations
gambling
smoking
sex
the internet


we numb ourselves to avoid the difficult feelings. the feelings that are overwhelming. 

“I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind.” 
― Jessica Sorensen

the pain of being left behind can be drowning. the pain of friends growing apart. of lovers leaving. of loved ones dying. of friends moving away or moving on. 

“I’ve perfected the art of the fake smile. It’s not so difficult when you are completely numb.” 
― Bethany Griffin

when you numb yourself to the pain so completely, that you feel nothing, you find yourself able to fake your way through your life. a fake smile plastered on your face and the answer, "fine" when asked how you are. when you numb yourself so completely to the pain, you feel nothing, not even the good feelings. 

“I was enveloped in numbness, and absence of feeling so deep the bottom was lost from view.” 
― Haruki Murakami

when you allow the numbness to take over, you can no longer see how far there is to fall. the bottom has fallen out from under you and you feel nothing. numbing yourself prevents you from being able to see the world realistically. you see only what you want to see. 

“Once I was free; there was no cage that could bind me, and I had yet to create my box of numbness within my mind to be my silent protector.” 
― J.D. Stroube

numbness is used for protection. to protect your mind from reliving pain, from experiencing sadness, from thinking about loss. but the numbness, whether through food or drugs or alcohol or gambling or sleep ... the numbness prevents you from feeling the good things in life. prevents you from seeing the beauty in a sunflower, the wonder in a baby's smile, the amazement of a sunset, the warmth of a hug. 

numbing is a form of addiction. or what i like to call CRBDAC (Continued repetition of Behaviours Despite Adverse Consequences - Nosy Nora).

Addiction is a chronic, relapsing disease affecting the brain’s reward, motivation, and related systems. People struggling with addiction are unable to control their actions or make rational decisions about their behaviour, even in the face of negative consequences.
http://www.albertafamilywellness.org/brain-development-addiction/different-kinds-addiction

finding a way to work through the numbness, to allow in the feelings, means overcoming addiction and you may need to seek support to do this effectively. 

being numb may feel good in the moment, in the short-term. but over time numbness takes over and becomes a natural way of being. but the truth is, there is nothing natural about being numb to the wonderous world in which we live. 

finding ways to numb yourself becomes habitual and can feel good. interesting ... the lack of feeling can feel good. but it is not a real feeling of goodness. it is false. 

if you are finding that you are numbing ... please seek support. feel free to email me and i will try to help you find support in your area. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

keeping myself small

"why do we feel that we have to have small bodies to have big lives? what feels good about feeling bad? and where do we turn for nourishment when it's not in the places we thought it would be?" - Geneen Roth

i have kept myself small for many years. large in physique and small in my life. i have diminished my accomplishments so as not to make other people feel bad. i worry about how my accomplishments will make other people feel, so i diminish my achievements thinking that will make other people feel good. 

my parents had their problems; both in their relationship and in their own lives. and i learned that by being small, i could blend into the background. i didn't share my report cards. i didn't share my writing. i kept it all to myself. keeping my life small and meaningless. keeping myself from being the centre of attention. 

"we believe we are not enough, we also believe that if we had more or were different, we would feel nourished." - Geneen Roth

i have spent my small life believing that i am not enough, that i don't do enough, that i don't have enough. believing that if only i were thin, if only i were smart, if only i were ______ i would feel nourished and fulfilled. not knowing that what i need to be nourished has been right here inside of me all along. 

for years i turned to my addictions: food and pills. using both to try to fill the empty spaces inside of me. 

"what did i want that i could never have, which made me feel like an endless pit of need?" - Geneen Roth

what did i want? i wanted to fit in with the other kids. i wanted to feel part of a group. i wanted to feel belonging and connection. instead, i felt like "an endless pit of need." and i tried to fill that pit with food. 

but you cannot fill an endless pit. 

"when you hide [eating] you give yourself the message that who you are is not acceptable, and that you must pretend to be someone else to be loved." - Geneen Roth

i spend way too much of my life hiding my eating. i would sneak to the store, buy a chocolate bar, and eat it as fast as i could. when i was 9. 

and i continued to hide my eating well into my 30s. in public, eating "healthy" foods, in private consuming vast quantities of "unhealthy" foods. making myself bigger to keep my life small. 

"when you sneak food, you perpetuate the belief that you are too ugly, too needy, too intense to be seen and loved for who you are. the same is true when you sneak feelings." - Geneen Roth

sneaking food and sneaking feelings are one and the same in my life. afraid to tell people how i feel. afraid to show people what i eat. afraid to live a big and full life. afraid to show people who i really am. 

"there is no such thing as enough because we believe that our very being is not enough. [...] to have enough, we have to believe that we are enough." - Geneen Roth

believing that i am enough is the most difficult affirmation i have ever tried to tell myself. that and a line from an article by nosy nora, "i love and accept myself deeply and completely." ... i have that as the screen saver on my phone and though i see it a zillion times a day, i find it hard to believe. hard to accept as my truth. believing that i am enough means loving myself deeply and completely. believing that i am enough means accepting myself for who i am. believing that i am enough means sharing my feelings, sharing my eating, and letting people know me for who i really am. 

"wanting things that could easily be given, be gotten, rather than wanting what i knew i couldn't have from either of my parents: being seen, being met. being valued for the fullness i already embodied." - Geneen Roth

it was much easier ... is much easier ... to want to be thin, to want new shoes, to want the newest indigo girls album ... than it is to demand to be valued, to be seen, to be heard. it became easier to keep my life small than to accept that i wasn't being seen or heard. it became easier to make my body bigger, to protect myself. 

at 13, i became noticed for my body. and that noticing led to events that i would rather forget. some that i have forgotten. and at 13, i began to make myself small, to blend into the background, to not be noticed. at 13, i learned that to lead a small life meant to have a large body. 

this is all subconscious of course. i never set out to be fat. but i have kept myself fat for many years. keeping myself big as a way to protect myself from living a full life. 

i leave you with this thought ...

"the world will not fall apart if we let ourselves express our vastness. it is more likely the world will stop falling apart when we do." - Geneen Roth

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

CRBDAC 6 months later ...

i'm proud of me, 

sometimes, 

some days. 

i told radical t today that it's been 6 months since i abused sedatives. i told her that nosy nora suggested i write about it. i also told her that it's no big deal. i believe i said "it is what it is." 

radical t suggested that perhaps there was more to it than that. that if it wasn't a big deal i wouldn't have told her. that perhaps there was something deeper there. 

am i proud? 

sometimes. 

to be honest, it feels like 6 months was a lifetime ago. 

6 months ago i was terrified of the word "addiction" and preferred nosy nora's description of "continued repetitions of behaviours despite adverse consequences" or CRBDAC. 

6 months ago i was sneaking gravol, or whatever sedative i could find to help me sleep, to help me feel numb, to help me turn off my brain ...

i no longer think about where there might be gravol hiding ... like under the couch cushions or stuffed in an old suitcase. and i also know that there aren't any in the house anymore. 

even though there are nights i lay awake wishing i was sleeping, there are nights where i do sleep and i know that i don't need sedatives. 

if you don't know what i am talking about, go back and read this post: http://aprilgigiangels.blogspot.ca/2014/03/sobriety-and-numbness-aka-crbdac.html

but mostly, i have learned that it is okay to feel things. even when those feelings are difficult and painful. 

feelings come and go. 

as captain stressy pants likes to tell me, feelings aren't good or bad, they just are. 

nosy nora says feelings are just feelings and they will pass. and she also says that it's okay to feel them. 

i have been given permission to have those nasty mean feelings that i never let myself have before - like being angry, and jealous. 

feelings are hard. i spent 30 years trying to avoid feelings. and 6 months learning to allow them. i had to make a list of feeling words. there is nothing worse than when i'm asked how i feel ... because i often don't know. i wasn't taught to talk about my feelings. i wasn't given the vocabulary. 

i couldn't have gone on this journey without the help of SC, my friends, and nosy nora. so thank you to all of you who have listened to me, who have guided me, and who have not judged me. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

enoughness

"Most of us spend our lives protecting ourselves from losses that have already happened." 

— Geneen Roth

i have enough, but i am always looking for more. 

i do enough, but i am always thinking that i need to do more. 

i am enough, but i am always looking to be more. 

what is enoughness? well first, it's a word that i made up. and second, enoughness is living your life in the moment. it is living as if what you have, what you do, and what you are, are tantamount to enough. 

enoughness is accepting that this moment is the most important moment because it is now. enoughness means not waiting for the right time that will never come. 

i want to write about enoughness in relation to food and eating.


my parents grew up with very little. they didn't have enough; not enough food, not enough attention, not enough love. and so they passed on the legacy of not enough to me, even though in reality i have everything i need. 

i was given everything i could ever need or want. and i never asked for anything. i didn't need to. there was an abundance of food. it was readily available. i helped with the grocery shopping and got to choose what i wanted to eat. there was always enough. 

and yet, it never felt like enough. the not-enough legacy was passed on so that i felt the need to sneak food. to hide food and eat it later. when i tried to go into the kitchen to get food, i was always told "you're not hungry, you're bored." perhaps i was bored and not hungry, but that need wasn't met either. so i stopped looking for food publicly and ate in secret, trying to give myself enough. 

this feeling of looking for what i don't have, of wanting something that may not even exist, this feeling of never having enough is a legacy passed down to me from poverty. but it's more than that. i think that our society is obsessed with the idea of more. and more means never having enough. 

"...compulsive eating is basically a refusal to be fully alive. No matter what we weigh, those of us who are compulsive eaters have anorexia of the soul. We refuse to take in what sustains us. We live lives of deprivation. And when we can't stand it any longer, we binge. The way we are able to accomplish all of this is by the simple act of bolting -- of leaving ourselves -- hundreds of times a day." 

— Geneen Roth

anorexia of the soul ... starving your soul. not feeding your soul what it needs to thrive. the feeling of not BEING enough makes me eat foods that my body doesn't need, in amounts that my body doesn't need so that i can have a false sense of enoughness. i am feeding my need to fill myself without feeding my heart. enoughness means eating when you are hungry, stopping when you are full, and choosing foods that taste good to you. enoughness means feeding your heart and soul with music, friendship, reading good books, writing, walking, gardening, or whatever makes you feel content and enough. when the focus turns to food, the lack of enoughness causes you to overeat. 

"We keep wanting more because we don't let ourselves have what we already have" — Geneen Roth

let myself have what i already have ... i have been learning a great deal about kindness. i have been allowing myself to experience kindness without bolting, as well as asking for (demanding) kindness. and most importantly, i have been demanding that i treat mySelf with kindness. it is time to let myself have what i already have - to practice letting myself experience the joys in life that are right here and right now. 

"You will never stop wanting more until you allow yourself to have what you already have. To take it in. Savor it. Now is a good time to do that . . ." 

— Geneen Roth

taking the time to eat slowly ... to truly taste the foods you eat ... to feel the textures, to know what you like and what you don't like ... this is about allowing yourself to have what you already have. i bought a bag of chocolate easter eggs. i was excited. i peeled the pink shiny foil off the egg and smelled the chocolate. i popped it into my mouth and let the chocolate begin to dissolve. then i bit into the chocolate egg and began to chew ... at which point i discovered that i don't actually like chocolate easter eggs. they are waxy and way too sweet. normally i just pop them in my mouth, chew and swallow, and move onto the next one. enoughness means tasting what you eat and choosing to eat what tastes good. and it also means not wasting time eating things that you discover you don't even like. 

when it comes to the enoughness of life, i am working on allowing myself to be treated well. to savor feeling loved. to take in feeling cared about, cherished, treasured. allowing myself to have what is here. and rejecting what doesn't feel good. 

merriam webster defines "enough" as "occuring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations." the scope of your life, right now, as you are, is enough because it is what you are. 

some of you reading this are thinking that this doesn't apply to you because you don't have a job, or you hate your job, or you have an illness, or you are fighting cancer, or your marriage is ending, or you are thinking about moving, or or or ... but i promise you that you are enough, as you are. enoughness means looking past the events and looking into your heart. enoughness is practicing gratitude for the things that make you smile. 

right now, in this moment, i am in enoughness because i am writing and drinking a chai tea latte. i am savoring each word i write, and each sip of hot creamy spicy goodness. 

enoughness isn't about what you have. enoughness is about living each moment with gusto. 

i leave you with this thought: 

be kind to yourself,

xoxo

...

sobriety and numbness aka CRBDAC

I want to write about the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. But writing about it might be scarier than actually experiencing it.

I suffer from what nosy nora aptly named, “continued repetition of a behaviour despite adverse consequences” or CRBDAC. And for the last month, I have been sticking with the title of CRBDAC.

Because the word “addiction” is extremely overwhelming.

Terrifying actually.

Then I read Brene Brown’s definition of addiction. And it became less of a scary word. She wrote:

1.  Most of us engage in behaviours (consciously or not) that help us to numb and take the edge off vulnerability, pain, and discomfort.

1. Addiction can be described as chronically and compulsively numbing and taking the edge off of feelings.

1. We cannot selectively numb emotions. When we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions.

 “These most powerful emotions that we experience have very sharp points, like the tip of a thorn. […] I believe that everyone numbs and takes the edge off and that addiction is about engaging in these behaviours compulsively and chronically.”

YES YES YES!!!

That is exactly it. 

Emotions … feelings … they have sharp points and I didn’t like those sharp points. So I started to numb myself against that pain. It was easier to take sleeping pills, to take whatever I could get my hands on, than it was to feel those sharp thorns.

The unfortunate thing is that when you numb yourself against the negative emotions, there isn’t room to feel the positive emotions. Instead, you start feeling nothing. And when you release yourself from the numbing prison, you are overwhelmed by the negative emotions that you kept at bay for so long. And when you are overcome by grief, and anger, and sadness, and fear, and loneliness, and hopelessness … it’s hard to make room for joy, and gladness, and happiness, and gratitude.

I want to share my story. Because it isn’t the stories we see on tv. When I think of an addict, I think of a fall-down-drunk, or a junkie willing to do anything for her next fix. I am not so much addicted to the state that I am in when I take pills, I am addicted to the state that I am NOT in. I am addicted to being numb and not having to feel or think about my issues.

The word “sober” implies that I was in a state of intoxication and that I no longer am. But in reality, I was in a state of numbness. I was in a state of refusing to be vulnerable and refusing to feel. So my sobriety means that I am now allowing in the emotions, good and bad, no matter how difficult they are to feel. And more importantly, I am learning to voice these emotions.

Brene Brown’s statement that addiction is “chronically and compulsively numbing and taking the edge off of feelings” is exactly what I have been doing. For the last 30 years.

This is my story …

When I was 7, I started to learn about the horrors of humanity. On purpose. I wasn’t protected from the realities of the world that we live in. children deserve to be innocent. Children have the right to be protected. And I wasn’t. I learned about the holocaust, and slavery, and apartheid, and human rights violations around the world. And I became afraid. I don’t mean afraid as in scared of the dark. I mean afraid as in lying awake in bed all night crying because Nelson Mandela was in prison. Afraid as in crying because we watched the series Roots in its entirety. Afraid that a bad guy was going to climb in my bedroom window. Afraid of being beaten, and raped, or having my feet cut off.

Afraid.

All the time.

Of everything.

But we were also taught that we were mature enough to learn about these atrocities. So I believed that I had to pretend to be the mature child that I was told that I was. Which means that I didn’t tell anyone about my fears. I simply sucked it up, carried on, and cried all alone at night in my bed. Or I hid in the front closet to cry. It was my safe space.

As a little kid who couldn’t sleep, I didn’t have a great deal of resources. I discovered that when I was given children’s chewable Tylenol, it made me sleepy. So I used to sneak it out of the medicine cabinet. And on those nights that I didn’t take it, I lay awake crying.

That went on for some years.

And then in middle school, I was severely bullied. (see http://aprilgigiangels.blogspot.ca/2014/01/sticks-and-stones-and-names-all-hurt.html)  and I discovered one time when I had the flu, that gravol made me sleepy. So I started to pretend to be sick so that my parents would buy gravol. And they never noticed that it was disappearing. They never really noticed anything.

Gravol became my drug of choice. It wasn’t daily. It was once in awhile, when things were really bad. When the boys had thrown condoms at me in the cafeteria. When the kids were chanting “hippo” at me during soccer in gym class and the teacher didn’t stop them. Those were the nights that I turned to pills for the numbing relief of sleep.

During the day, I hid in the bathroom between classes and at recess. I would be sick to my stomach, worrying about what terrible thing the children were going to do to me next. So I would throw up. Soon it became more of a habit than actual nausea.

I wandered the streets by myself at lunch time. And I spent the evenings alone at home, hiding in my room, wishing that I could just die instead of feeling worthless and ugly and unlovable. And at night, I stole pills from the medicine cabinet to help me sleep.

then came high school and the pressure to be a certain “look” to fit in. looking back at photos, I wasn’t the fat kid that I thought I was. Or that people told me I was. I was called fat from an early age. I was told to watch what I ate. My food intake was monitored and controlled. And I believed that I was enormous. Photos prove otherwise. I have recently discovered that I was an average sized child. In fact, I looked the same size as my friends. But in my mind, they were thin and I was gigantic. I can remember having to have my waist measured in jazz class for a costume and being horrified at the numbers being called out. And on our grade 8 skiing trip we had to announce our weights to the teacher who was filling in a form for the ski rentals. Seriously? We had to announce our weight in front of the entire class. I was 5 ‘4 and weighed 105 lbs. but there was no way in hell I was going to say that. The other girls said they were 90 lbs, so I said that too.

in high school, I did tell my parents that I found it hard to sleep. So they gave me warm milk and other natural suggestions. I continued with the gravol, except that now I had my own access to money and could go buy it myself. I actually went to the guidance counselor at school about the difficulty that I had sleeping. She told me to create a bedtime routine.

It didn’t help. By that time, my body had become reliant on the sleeping pills. So if I took them, I would be a bit sleepy. And if I didn’t take them, sleep was hard to come by.

It was in university that I discovered the joys of Nyquil. My friend died in my third year, and I lay awake crying most nights. I got strep throat and started taking Nyquil … ahhh …. Who knew!? First there was a numbing sensation, then my stomach got kind of lurchy, but in a fun way, and then I would sleep. No more crying over her death. No more lying awake. Just oblivion.

Over the last 15 years or so, I have tried many different sleeping pills. I have taken advantage of situations where I am prescribed pain meds and taken them far past the time when I had actual pain. Like when I got my wisdom teeth out and I was prescribed Tylenol 3. By the second day, I wasn’t in pain anymore. But I kept taking those pills. They numbed me from the emotional pain that I tried so hard to keep at bay. The same thing happened when I hurt my back a few years ago. The doctor prescribed me Percocet. And they did nothing for the pain. I have a very low tolerance to pain and a very high tolerance to pain medication. They did, however, make me not have to think about things or feel the negative emotions. They did protect me from feeling the sadness, and loneliness and hurt that has haunted me for so long. And I enjoyed them. I am not going to lie about that.

It all came to a crisis when I was prescribed a drug for chronic pain that my doctor felt would help me to sleep. She is convinced that I have fibromyalgia. She is convinced that my aches and pains and my lack of ability to sleep are caused by this neuro-disorder.

So she prescribed me 10mg a day. And I took them. And I no longer woke up with a headache every day! But the pains in my legs and back continued to bother me. Constant stabbing and pinching makes it difficult to do daily activities and to concentrate. So the doctor decided that increasing this medication would help me sleep.

So I started taking 30mg. and oh joy, oh bliss, oh rapture … sleep finally came … and for a few months, I was living my ultimate dream … sleeping and feeling numb to the emotional pain. These pills made it all go away.

And I started to think to myself … if 30mg makes me feel this good … just imagine what 60mg would do!? So I increased the medication myself. Without consulting my doctor. The 60mg messed with my brain chemistry. And all logic left me. Completely. Like, completely left me. No logic left at all. 60mg became 100mg, and 100mg became 150mg until I started to be convinced that the ultimate solution to everything in my life (and possibly in the world) was to take 200 pills at once … 2000mg. I became obsessed with this idea. It consumed me. I thought about it all the time. I stood in the kitchen with the bottle in my hand … the giant bottle of yellow pills … and I contemplated the ultimate 2000mg solution …

… as you can probably guess, I am a very analytical person. I think through things and I write through things and I can often step back from what is going on in my head and analyze it. And I knew perfectly well that taking 200 pills, no matter how yellow or glorious they were, was really, really dumb. And also really, really, fatal. So I talked to my therapist, Nosy Nora, about it and agreed to see my doctor.

To say that wasn’t easy would be an understatement. I was expecting harsh judgment and criticism. I was worried about the next time I have surgery or an accident or an injury … will I be believed? Will I be given the pain management medication that I might need?

My doctor was incredible. An absolute gem. Supportive and understanding.

And that evening, I took those glorious yellow pills back to the pharmacy and relinquished them. And I threw out any pills at home that cause drowsiness or that I couldn’t trust myself not to abuse.

And from that day, I have been “sober” in relation to self-medicating with drugs.

I continue to struggle with bulimia. And I continue to struggle with using food to numb myself.

But I am facing my struggles one step at a time, one day at a time. 

It isn’t easy. Having all these feelings that I have numbed myself from … well, quite franky, it sucks and I hate it. I would love to take some pills and hide away from the world for a bit. Forget that there are things that make me sad, or angry, or hurt, or upset, or jealous, or guilty. But I am enjoying being able to think clearly. I am enjoying waking up in the morning and feeling truly awake. And alive. Even when being alive is hard.

I am here. This is my story. And I am owning it.