Choosing a Full Life.. For Myself, Or Everyone I Love?

3 years ago

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?

I forced my lying, cheating ex to drive me 4 hours north [I live in Florida], on HIS gas money, to go see this amazing man I'd talked to for so long and fell in love with. Upon arrival, I jumped in his lap, gave him a kiss, and that, my dear friends, was magic in itself. My ex went back home, I stayed in Orlando, and two days after meeting up with him, the unimaginable happened. Mind you, I kissed him. We weren't dating. His roommate had a camera. This unimaginable wonderous human being proposed to marry me. On one knee. The whole nine yards; ring, one knee, camera, witnesses, and breath mints [lol]. On October 31st, 2006, he gathered the clothes he owned, we drove to our [now] home city, and we married at the court house. 1 year later, my parents paid for the most amazing wedding I could imagine,

Back to my health. He knew I couldn't have any more kids, because I had to have a hysterectomy due to a bout with cancer. He knew I was addicted to medications as well. He looked past all of this. One thing he could NOT overlook: my overuse of my prescribed medication. Mind you, it wasn't a purposeful overuse; I didn't look to "get high". We figured out the problem: Xanax made me forget everything. Five minutes would pass, and I'd forget I took my medication. What would I do? Take another dose. This was dangerous, and my husband refused to have his wife be a dead junkie. I mean, seriously, I'd take a whole bottle of Xanax in one day, only because I'd forget. We got a finger-print safe.

So now, you see me. I wake up, I ask for my morning meds, I do what I need to do, at 2pm I get meds again. However, no opiates. I take Tramadol, which I get seizures as a side effect, and it really doesn't compare to an Opiate. I have completely lost sight of what I was going to write about, and I have lost half of you by now. Basically, I really need to know how to function, gals.. I have a two-year old now, as well as my 15 year old [my twin cousin did a surrogacy for me], and I can't find happiness because I'm always in pain. My mind will NOT let it rest! What. Do I. Do?

p.s. I will write seperate blogs in regards to my head injuries, my daughter being birthed by my cousin, etc....


This is an article written by one of the incredible members of the SheKnows Community. The SheKnows editorial team has not edited, vetted or endorsed the content of this post. Want to join our amazing community and share your own story? Sign up here.

More from health

by Ashley Jankowski
| 3 days ago
by Elizabeth Yuko
| 5 days ago
by Maryann Jacobsen, MS, RD
| 6 days ago
by Ashley Jankowski
| 6 days ago