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 

pain

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”― J.K. Rowling

i have a low pain threshold. lots of people do. and then there are the people who can take pain. or who like pain. that's not me. 

however, despite my intense fear of and dislike for pain, i suffered most of my life because i didn't know that i was allowed to speak about my pain - both physical and emotional. 

“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ― Rose Kennedy

i didn't talk about my emotional pain when my best friend Gigi died. i kept it inside. i suffered in silence. for many many many many years. and i don't know if that is worse than the physical pain i endured for years without speaking up.

“The damage was permanent; there would always be scars. But even the angriest scars faded over time until it was difficult to see them written on the skin at all, and the only thing that remained was the memory of how painful it had been.” 
― Jodi Picoult

i got my period when i was 10 years old. i knew very little about it. my mother had never had cramps with her cycles. so she didn't tell me about them. it didn't occur to her. i had cramps from the first period. my PCOS symptoms started at a young age, they just weren't diagnosed. so the pain i was experiencing was "normal" only i didn't know there was anything i could DO about it. 

it wasn't until i was 16 and i was at CP's house and she flaked out on going to the zoo because she had cramps. and her mom took care of her and gave her pills ... pills? there were pills that i could take that would help with the cramps?!?!?!? and i could curl up in bed and someone could take care of me? i was in shock. 

the curling up and being taken care of never happened. but i was old enough that i could go buy mydol. and i did. 

menstrual cramps. that's not pain. i know some of you are thinking that. 

well that's not the only pain i lived with. 

the dentist. i have such anxiety about the dentist. more than most people. why? because when i was 34 (THIRTY FOUR !!!), my mom was telling me about her trip to the dentist and needing 3 freezings. and i looked at her and said, "3? you can have more than 1?" and she explained that she always needed at least 2 needles before she was frozen. 

imagine my SHOCK at learning, at 34, that the dentist isn't supposed to hurt ...

... yes, that's right ... for 34 years i would get one needle and be a little bit tingly. then i would endure the pain of getting my cavities filled and other dental procedures. and i would feel them. 

the dentist hurt. a lot. every time. and i didn't know. 

we spend too much time taking care of other people and not taking care of ourselves. we spend too much time tending to the needs of others and not speaking up about our own pains. 

don't be alone. 

be kind to yourself,

xoxo

...

Sticks and stones and names all hurt

i was taught to say "sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me." 

i was also taught to say "i'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks on you." 

what a load of crap. 

i saw this photo on facebook last night. i don't know how to credit it because i don't know where it came from. 

but i saw it and said YES! exactly. 

i have the (un)fortunate ability to remember most things. not facts. i have never been good with statistics or memorizing general knowledge. that's why i failed math and chemistry. formulas go over my head. 

but when it comes to things that happen or things that people say, it's like I have a video camera in my head. 

i don't remember every single thing, obviously, but I remember an awful lot. and i remember a lot that's awful. 

words, sarcasm, comments, snide remarks, things said in frustration or anger ... they stay with me. i remember it all. and i remember how it made me feel. which is worse. 

as a teacher, i work very hard at choosing my words. that's not to say that i'm never sarcastic. because i'm extremely sarcastic. and i tease a bit too. but i work very hard at not saying something that could hurt or that could stay with them throughout their lives. and my students laugh with me.

and if i do unintentionally hurt a student, we talk about it and i apologize and i repair the relationship. 

as I said before, memorizing things has never been my strength. formulas are tricky for me. and patterns. spelling is all patterns and formulas. 

spelling has never been my strength and has been a constant source of embarrassment. 

in grade 7, i had a science test. there was a question that said "what is the difference between weight and mass?" i don't remember my answer, but i remember getting the test back and red writing in the margin ... my teacher wrote:

"the difference between weight and mass is that you know how to spell mass."

i remember my mom laughed. she thought it was funny. i was humiliated. and i've never forgotten it. 

i have the unfortunate ability to remember all the mean things that have ever been said to me. even if those mean things were meant as a joke. 

in middle school, i was bullied. 

i don't mean teased and picked on. i mean bullied. i mean relentlessly teased, taunted, called names, and made to feel like a worthless, unloveable, non-human. 

boys would throw condoms at me in the cafeteria. there's more. but i'm not ready to share that so publicly. 

Yet. 

one afternoon, i went to my locker and someone had written in large red letters "you look like a fucking gorilla" ... my world came crashing down around me. 

i ran all the way to my old school to tell my favourite teacher. i expected hugs, and care, and support. i expected her to call my school and tell them. i expected her to help me. 

but she didn't. 

i was sobbing and told her what they had written on my locker and she laughed. she said "sorry, i'm just trying to picture what gorillas look like when they're fucking." 

i was crushed. it felt like my one hope at help abandoned me. 

so i never turned to an adult for help after that. i let the bullying continue. and although i remember it all, i never told anyone. 

the truth is, sticks and stones may break my bones, but bones will heal ... the names you call me and the things you say will always hurt me. 

xoxo

.....

Word Vomit

Today is a fresh start with no mistakes in it. (sort of quoting anne shirley, my hero) or as Nosy Nora once said, mis takes ... today is a new day with no mis takes in it. 

today is the first day of waking up and not passing the bookshelf filled with diet and weight loss books on my way to the shower. 

i can't lie ... i slept through my alarm today. i was supposed to go to the gym. i didn't sleep well, which made it difficult to get up. and i woke up with a stabbing pain in my shoulder blade. the pain sucks. the pain is familiar. the pain wont stop. 

i know perfectly well that if i make my way to the bathroom that i can make the pain STOP by making myself throw up. and i also know that i DO NOT want to do that anymore. that is a cycle that i want to break. 

Nosy Nora had suggested that perhaps word vomit is better than actual vomit. so this is my attempt at word vomit. 

word vomit is much more challenging that real vomit. in case you didn't know. 

not dieting is scary. not dieting is unfamiliar territory. not weighing myself and judging myself for every morsel of food that i put into my mouth is ... nerve-wracking because it is so foreign to me. 

i am scared to unleash myself on the world because there isn't enough food in the world to fill the empty sad dark spaces inside of me. and i am worried that if i leave the safety of my couch, i will begin to devour everything that i see. 

i also had to admit something embarrassing to a colleague this morning. math has never been my strong point. mostly because i copied my friend's answers for 3 years and never had to write a test. 

i have been "helping" my colleague's students study for their math test. here i was, being so very helpful and supportive and kind ... and teaching the concept entirely wrong. so this morning i had to tell my colleague that there was a reason why every single answer was wrong. and it wasn't the fault of the kids. although they could have spoken up and told me that my formula was incorrect. but students are taught to trust teachers. 

in any case, i messaged LC today and told her what had happened. it was so shameful. and she was so ridiculously understanding and supportive. the kids get to rewrite the test, using the correct formula. and now i know the formula (thanks KM for clearing that up for me). thank you LC, for being a kind and supportive friend. i value our friendship.

i think that's what this stabbing pain is about. i think it is fear and embarrassment. i have been afraid for a very long time. afraid of getting lost. afraid of the bad guys. afraid of not being good enough. afraid of being judged. afraid of everything ...

only for the first time in my life, it isn't fear of the world, it is fear of myself ... because as Nosy Nora once said, i have more power that i think ...

xoxo

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