OXY MORON (oxycodone tragedy)

[Ekat]

I was always a "good girl."

My parents abandoned me, and I was raised in the Bronx projects by my Grandmother and mentally handicapped Aunt. I fought with everything I had to transcend that situation.

I went to NYU; I was pre-med and graduated at the top of my class. I married a fellow pre-med student, and we had two beautiful girls. We had many lean years, but I stayed behind and raised my girls with all the love that I was denied. We had a wonderful life.

Two years ago, after 20 years of marriage, my husband (who became a physician) divorced me. I had no personal assets and could not afford a lawyer. My girls hated their father, and I tried my best to continue to raise them with inadequate resources and no work history.

I had a spinal injury that began to get worse. Eventually, I was in the emergency room hysterically crying. I was put on oxycodone for pain, and began to teach yoga. I functioned, but strange things began to happen: My anxiety decreased dramatically; I didn't care as much about certain details. Then I began to become tired, and cut corners whenever I could. I argued with my girls. Eventually, they both left home, I lost my job and apartment, and I could barely function. Then I had a minor auto accident, and was not covered adequately by insurance. The car was damaged, and is now not functioning. And now I don't leave home

The last 9 months have been a nightmare. I am isolated. My children do not communicate with me AT ALL. I cry and sleep, and sleep and cry. My little beloved dog, though a toy breed, has not been out in a month. I live in a dingy, dark apartment, and do not eat properly.

If I didn't consider life a gift and a miracle, I would end mine. But I can't even do that.

This is a thumbnail portrait of my life.

I want to live. I want friends. I want to be a good mother. I want to be useful to living beings.

I need help. I need an Angel.

Ekat

[Zak]

This is your start by reaching out and sharing your pain,it will get better are you detoxed yet? I'm glad your here the recovery starts today.

[Dee74]

I'm glad you started your own thread Ekat.
I know you'll get a lot of support, and more than a few good suggestions.

Just so I, and everyone else knows, what's your doctor situation at the moment, ekat?

Is the same one who prescribed the oxy in the first place?
Do you have a therapist as well?

D

[Lenina]

Ekat,

I don't know too much about drugs (my deal is alcohol) but have you seen a competent doctor and been honest with him about your issues? Have you looked into NA? Seeing your doctor seems like the best place to start.

Love,

Lenina

[urwillnotmine]

I can only speak for myself when I say Ive been there and I know how it feels. My life was limited to a bag of posesions that I could call my own. In recovery we all share empathy twords one anthor because we've all been where you are to some extent. You are not alone and im glad to see you reaching out and asking for help. Its beyond my comprehension how your stuggling and how im struggling god knows how many miles apart and we've both come to the same spot to seek hope. I have two years clean and still have to live life on lifes terms. The program of na shows me how to get thru them clean by doing the same thing your doing and asking for help and helping others. Check out an na or aa meeting sometime! It saved and continues to save mine.

[Ekat]

Dee, the doctor who originally prescribed the oxy only saw me once, and my pcp continued to prescribe it and up the dose. I still see her every month, and we are "tapering." (Um, I think we moved it down by 5mg. in 6 months.)

My car stopped working at about the time that my therapist told me that he was relocating to an outer suburb. Right now I am working with a non-profit in Cambridge, but have no real therapist (this has been for about three weeks. I will have a new therapist soon.) The group that I am working with seems good, but I am almost too sick to really take advantage of their services. Hospitalization seems inevitable, but I don't know if it should be a general hospital, psych unit, or detox program. There is so much going on.

Oh, and btw, when anyone sees me, they say, "You look great." Nobody around me knows what's going on. Most people think that I am not very social. Some people think that I am an intellectual. The outer presentation does not match the reality.

I have no family, no close friends - just my dog and this agency that I was accepted into about a month ago.

I want to live. I don't know where to begin.

Love to all, and thank you for welcoming me,
Ekat

[Dee74]

I hope your new therapist will be good for you. I often found that a new therapist helped me...

as for your pcp...(primary care, right?)I think you're entitled to speak to her, like Lenina suggested, honestly and frankly about your quality of life issues and your mental health.

If her response is not satisfactory to you, could you look around for another dr? (I'm not overly familiar with the US system)

I hope you'll find this thread useful to you, Ekat.
I'll keep checking in, but for now, g'night.

D

[Lenina]

Ekat,

Continue with the agency if you can. If inpatient is needed, see if there are any Federally funded or State funded programs. I don't what may be available since all the budgets cuts but be persistent. Have your doctor advocate for you as necessary, you need treatment. Don't fear an inpatient detox if necessary. There's meds to help detox be less harsh.

And do be kind to yourself, you may have to swallow some pride but it beats the alternates. Try some NA meetings, Call your local hospital social services and be honest,

You can get better but it's going to take some work on your part, work you may not feel up to but has to be done.

Threre is hope, You can do this, we are here to support and encourage you. You may have to wait a bit for a bed up in meantime, get to some NA meetings, addictions are not exclusive! It's not a moral issue, it's a medical one.

Don't give up! Use any and all available resourses you can find, Check out all social services! Addiction is NOT a moral failure, You are not a morally failure!

Hang in there! We are here to support you as best we can. But you have to take action.

Much love to you!

Lenina

[Sugah]

Originally Posted by Ekat

I want to live. I don't know where to begin.

Ekat, there are some good suggestions in this thread, so I'm not going to repeat them. I am going to make another suggestion, though, embedded in my own experience.

I also had a spinal injury -- or rather, a spinal cord injury. Nine years ago, I had a medical procedure that didn't go so well. The injury brought on a condition so painful, I spent the next two and a half years in a wheel chair. Although I'd had addiction issues for many years, the near-unlimited supply of opiates got in the way of any of the many pseudo-management methods I'd developed. I sunk like a rock.

You've stated your difficulty with detox. In one thread, you said that you nearly injured yourself -- I'm not sure what you meant by that. I will tell you what I know to be true: I know what an extremely painful detox feels like. I abused opiates at inhuman levels. I should be dead. I refused all detox meds -- I decided, in a rush of stupid bravery, that I wanted to feel every bit of pain, thinking it would keep me clean. And when detoxing with an extremely painful neurological condition, let's just say I thought I had died and gone to hell. But I got through it. Do you know why? Because like you, I wanted to live. I don't know what I was doing before those drugs left my body, but it wasn't living.

And I understand, too, that you've had a lot of pain in your life. I'm not going to try to one-up you and tell you about the heartaches and hardships I've had. If you want to know, ask, and I'll share. But here's something I learned about those difficulties -- they never get better while we're still using. I spent ten years in therapy, and it didn't do me a bit of good until I first put down the drugs and alcohol. As we say around here, it doesn't really matter why the donkey's in the ditch. The important thing is to get it out.

Which brings me to one more thing. If you want to live, I strongly urge you to put the plug in the wine jug. Booze and opiates are a deadly mix.

Ekat, you can do this. You might think I'm being a jerk when I say this, but I'm saying it because I have seen way too many folks convince themselves they can't get through detox and up and die instead: If I can do it, you can do it.

Peace & Love,
Sugah

[Ekat]

I am so happy that all of you are here.

[Ekat]

Originally Posted by Sugah

Ekat, there are some good suggestions in this thread, so I'm not going to repeat them. I am going to make another suggestion, though, embedded in my own experience.

I also had a spinal injury -- or rather, a spinal cord injury. Nine years ago, I had a medical procedure that didn't go so well. The injury brought on a condition so painful, I spent the next two and a half years in a wheel chair. Although I'd had addiction issues for many years, the near-unlimited supply of opiates got in the way of any of the many pseudo-management methods I'd developed. I sunk like a rock.

You've stated your difficulty with detox. In one thread, you said that you nearly injured yourself -- I'm not sure what you meant by that. I will tell you what I know to be true: I know what an extremely painful detox feels like. I abused opiates at inhuman levels. I should be dead. I refused all detox meds -- I decided, in a rush of stupid bravery, that I wanted to feel every bit of pain, thinking it would keep me clean. And when detoxing with an extremely painful neurological condition, let's just say I thought I had died and gone to hell. But I got through it. Do you know why? Because like you, I wanted to live. I don't know what I was doing before those drugs left my body, but it wasn't living.

And I understand, too, that you've had a lot of pain in your life. I'm not going to try to one-up you and tell you about the heartaches and hardships I've had. If you want to know, ask, and I'll share. But here's something I learned about those difficulties -- they never get better while we're still using. I spent ten years in therapy, and it didn't do me a bit of good until I first put down the drugs and alcohol. As we say around here, it doesn't really matter why the donkey's in the ditch. The important thing is to get it out.

Which brings me to one more thing. If you want to live, I strongly urge you to put the plug in the wine jug. Booze and opiates are a deadly mix.

Ekat, you can do this. You might think I'm being a jerk when I say this, but I'm saying it because I have seen way too many folks convince themselves they can't get through detox and up and die instead: If I can do it, you can do it.

Peace & Love,
Sugah

I want to know more. I want to know everything that you have the energy to tell me. I can't stop the opiates. I can't stop the wine. I feel so anxious that I am paralyzed without them. Actually, the opiates don't do much anymore. They just keep me from going into wd and holding back the anxiety (which in insanely intense.)

When I said that I thought I would hurt myself, it was from the thrashing and writhing. I almost squashed my 6 lb. dog (I weigh 115 lbs. I was completely out of control of my body.) It sounds like Dante's Inferno. Feels that way, too.

[tjp613]

Ekat - May I suggest that you call your local United Way at 2-1-1 ? They should be able to connect you with appropriate health and social services. Please call -- they are available 24/7.

Bless you in this difficult time. I'm glad you're here.

[Sugah]

Ekat, I wanted to acknowledge your response. I will post tomorrow, at length, though today has been very long. I was up early and had a rather difficult two-hour drive home, so I'll ask your patience.

I do want you to know I empathize -- and also that I was sure at one time that no one could possibly empathize with me.

Peace & Love,
Sugah

[Ekat]

[Sarahspeaks]

Originally Posted by Ekat

...... I can't stop the opiates. I can't stop the wine. I feel so anxious that I am paralyzed without them. Actually, the opiates don't do much anymore. They just keep me from going into wd and holding back the anxiety ............

My first post Ekat .... your words drew me out.

I'm sort of in the same place you are and I'm afraid too ... I look at my life and wonder "how did I get here????? how did I let this happen????? I'm a "good girl" too and no one knows I am drowning ....... I want so bad to pull myself out of the hole of this addictive lifestyle that I'm living ......

I check in here every other day or so and I'm always so glad to see you (and others) still posting still trying so hard to pull yourselves out ..... please keep going ... you have no idea how many others are out there like me whose lives you have touched ..... its comforting to know I'm not alone .. that I'm not a bad person .... that sometimes bad things happen to good people and all any of us want is to be loved and understood and appreciated ... and that sometimes life becomes just too much .. and we falter .... and end up here !

I'll keep checking in ... I just wanted to say thanks !

Sarah

[Sugah]

Welcome, Sarahspeaks.

(Deep breath)

I've had physical issues since I can remember. Doctors have speculated it's the result of being a "change of life baby" -- my mom was already skipping periods when she got pregnant with me and gave birth at 42. I'm the youngest of seven kids -- my dad was divorced with four kids & my mom had two adult sons, so I'm the only one they had together. Alcoholism and drug addiction on both sides.

Some things happened during my childhood that, while they didn't make me an alcoholic/addict, likely kicked it into gear sooner than if circumstances had been different. Let me repeat that: I do not believe what happened to me "made" me an addict. From the first time I ingested alcohol and chemicals, I had what I've come to understand is an addict's response to those substances. Whether it was booze, pills or other substances, I was never satisfied with a little bit. I always wanted more.

Though it doesn't bother me to talk about it anymore, I'm still not going to go into detail. We've had some recent threads here that were potentially triggering to others, and I don't want that. Suffice it to say that I remember being molested at age three, that it became full-blown rape by the time I was seven, and that this went on until I was thirteen. There were several instances of "date rape" beyond that -- which may or may not have happened if I'd received help. I didn't have any tools to distinguish safe and normal relationships from dangerous ones. I don't know. I didn't get any help -- as a matter of fact, my mother was so wrapped up in my father's alcoholism that I don't think she noticed there was anything wrong with me besides my physical ailments (chronic back pain, ulcers, a "nervous" disorder which today would likely be diagnosed as PTSD and generalized anxiety).

My father was a violent alcoholic. After my grandmother died (when I was six), he no longer had a check on his temper. I was the only kid living at home then, so my mother and I were targets of his rage. I remember begging my mother to divorce him -- I had friends whose parents were divorced. Though she'd tell everyone she waited twenty years to have a daughter, she didn't do anything to stop what was going on, relied on me in a twisted sort of way to deflect some of the beatings he'd give her (she'd call for me to help her from the time I was nine, ten years old and I'd get between them). I was kept out of school when I had visible signs of abuse -- black eyes, welts and cuts on my face (I have scars under my lip where he hit me and my bottom teeth came through the skin). He quit drinking when I was thirteen.

But I was already drinking regularly by then, and as much as I hated my father's violence, I became the same kind of drunk. I had gotten away from the other family member who sexually abused me and started seeking out older boyfriends. It was a protection impulse, but it seemed that I was attracted to the same kinds of men -- violent, sexually deviant. Over the course of eight years, from thirteen to twenty-one, I got pregnant six times and miscarried six times.

I could tell you I drank and popped pills through all this to deal with the pain (of various sorts). That's true to an extent, though by the time I landed in my first "treatment" at nineteen, it was hard to separate the issues. The dragon was awake in me, and I used because I didn't know anything else. Was scared to think about anything else.

I got married, I left my husband, I returned to a boyfriend of a few years earlier. I got pregnant again and this time, at twenty-one, something happened in me that helped me respect the life growing in me. My son was born two months before my 22nd birthday -- over nine pounds and healthy. I stopped using (cocaine, pot at that time) when I realized I was pregnant, and I stayed clean for almost a year after while I nursed him. I met another man at this time, a single father, and by the time my son was two, we were living together. I started drinking again, and he is an admitted (and still active) alcoholic. And violent like me. We beat on each other for almost seven years -- except for the brief period in the middle when I got pregnant with my daughter. He was still physically aggressive with me, but perhaps because I wasn't drinking, perhaps because I felt protective of her, I didn't antagonize him. I gave birth two months prematurely to a healthy seven-pound baby girl. Again, I abstained while I nursed her, but the very day she was weaned, I returned to the drinking.

All this time, I had physical issues. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after my son's birth. I'd had symptoms since my teens, but no one knew what it was then. I had disc issues in my back from scoliosis (symmetrical, side-to-side curve -- you can't tell by looking at me). I was also diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, which was hell to deal with until it went into remission with my daughter's pregnancy. It's come back, though thankfully not debilitating, in the past three years (she's now 16, so I had a 13 year reprieve).

After leaving her father at my best friend's urging (she was sure one of us would end up dead), I entered another relationship. The details aren't important, though it was another dysfunctional relationship. When you talk about losing everything, Ekat, I relate. A business, a house, cars, all my jewelry, furniture, electronics -- it took me some time to get over the resentment about that. But that was at the end, and it's what I needed to do to get clean. Life was more important than stuff at that point.

Two years before I left, nine years ago in January of 2001, I had a medical procedure (epidural nerve block) that left me crippled. The doctor slipped and hit my spinal cord. The resulting condition -- RSD -- affected both my legs, and I was in more physical pain than I'd experienced in all my other conditions combined. Although it took months for my legs to lose muscle and the bones to begin to atrophy, I literally could not put my weight on them. I still have the pain, though I've made peace with it. I did learn to walk again, ten months clean, but...well, it's a story for another time.

The bottom line is this: with the "highlights" I described above, the emotional, mental and physical pain I experienced, the icing on the proverbial cake in those final days of using was that I knew I was dying and I didn't want my kids to go through life thinking I'd given up on them. We no longer had a relationship. Other people I'd brought into my home were taking care of them. I didn't even know them anymore. But I brought them into this world. They didn't knock on my door asking me to be their mom. I felt I owed them something, even though dying would have been much easier at the time than trying to do something about the condition I was in. I don't think I even cared if I died trying. I wanted them to know I would try, and if I had breath in me, I'd continue to try.

That was more than seven years ago. A lot happened in that first year that wasn't pleasant, that would have, at another point in time, been reason enough to throw my hands in the air and give up (I was broke, I had a mouthy teenage boy on my hands, I had a little girl who lied for no apparent reason, I was still strapped to a wheel chair, I lived with my kids in a bad part of town -- and I still had incredible physical pain I didn't know what to do with). But I didn't give up. I found some faith along the way, and I had the experience of living through some very tough times to give me courage. I also threw myself into a program of recovery (at first, both NA & AA; now strictly AA) and worked with a sponsor to take the steps. I put my recovery in front of everything else in my life, including my kids because without it, I lose anything I've gotten back -- and anything new that's come my way.

In the next six years, I went back to school and graduated with high honors. I received a full scholarship to grad school. I maintain an apartment in the city and manage to juggle work (teaching), school, family and recovery -- the latter not being so hard anymore because it runs through everything I do. I'm still limited physically. I walk with a cane. I have bones made of glass. I have flares several times a month where the pain becomes more than I'd prefer to handle, but I do it. Why? Because I'm living, and I prefer to keep living. I'm happy, in spite of any difficulties that remain or arise -- and they do. This is life, and we most times, we don't get to dictate the way it evolves around us.

That's the abbreviated version, Ekat. I don't walk in your shoes, but in my parallel journey, I think I can confidently say again: If I can do it, I know you can, too.

Peace & Love,
Sugah

[Ekat]

Originally Posted by Sarahspeaks

My first post Ekat .... your words drew me out.

I'm sort of in the same place you are and I'm afraid too ... I look at my life and wonder "how did I get here????? how did I let this happen????? I'm a "good girl" too and no one knows I am drowning ....... I want so bad to pull myself out of the hole of this addictive lifestyle that I'm living ......

I check in here every other day or so and I'm always so glad to see you (and others) still posting still trying so hard to pull yourselves out ..... please keep going ... you have no idea how many others are out there like me whose lives you have touched ..... its comforting to know I'm not alone .. that I'm not a bad person .... that sometimes bad things happen to good people and all any of us want is to be loved and understood and appreciated ... and that sometimes life becomes just too much .. and we falter .... and end up here !

I'll keep checking in ... I just wanted to say thanks !

Sarah

Sarah, your post made me cry. If you can summon the energy, try to communicate here. I wish someone would just hold me. My life is slipping out of my grasp. Sarah, my life has been littered with cruelty, and the last blow was that my sweet daughter, my heart, left me. It's driving me to the brink of insanity.

My family is right here. (Besides my little dog, who is so loyal. She has a horrible life, stuck in this little apartment, but we need each other, and she keeps me alive. I can feel her little heartbeat. That's what I hold on to.)

I don't have energy for ANYTHING. But I started to come here every day, instead of twice a month.

Thank you for posting. I would like to hear your story. I like to help people, and on here I feel like I do more taking than giving, but the more I know about others, the more I can contribute.

Ekat

[Ekat]

Originally Posted by Sugah

Welcome, Sarahspeaks.

(Deep breath)

I've had physical issues since I can remember. Doctors have speculated it's the result of being a "change of life baby" -- my mom was already skipping periods when she got pregnant with me and gave birth at 42. I'm the youngest of seven kids -- my dad was divorced with four kids & my mom had two adult sons, so I'm the only one they had together. Alcoholism and drug addiction on both sides.

Some things happened during my childhood that, while they didn't make me an alcoholic/addict, likely kicked it into gear sooner than if circumstances had been different. Let me repeat that: I do not believe what happened to me "made" me an addict. From the first time I ingested alcohol and chemicals, I had what I've come to understand is an addict's response to those substances. Whether it was booze, pills or other substances, I was never satisfied with a little bit. I always wanted more.

Though it doesn't bother me to talk about it anymore, I'm still not going to go into detail. We've had some recent threads here that were potentially triggering to others, and I don't want that. Suffice it to say that I remember being molested at age three, that it became full-blown rape by the time I was seven, and that this went on until I was thirteen. There were several instances of "date rape" beyond that -- which may or may not have happened if I'd received help. I didn't have any tools to distinguish safe and normal relationships from dangerous ones. I don't know. I didn't get any help -- as a matter of fact, my mother was so wrapped up in my father's alcoholism that I don't think she noticed there was anything wrong with me besides my physical ailments (chronic back pain, ulcers, a "nervous" disorder which today would likely be diagnosed as PTSD and generalized anxiety).

My father was a violent alcoholic. After my grandmother died (when I was six), he no longer had a check on his temper. I was the only kid living at home then, so my mother and I were targets of his rage. I remember begging my mother to divorce him -- I had friends whose parents were divorced. Though she'd tell everyone she waited twenty years to have a daughter, she didn't do anything to stop what was going on, relied on me in a twisted sort of way to deflect some of the beatings he'd give her (she'd call for me to help her from the time I was nine, ten years old and I'd get between them). I was kept out of school when I had visible signs of abuse -- black eyes, welts and cuts on my face (I have scars under my lip where he hit me and my bottom teeth came through the skin). He quit drinking when I was thirteen.

But I was already drinking regularly by then, and as much as I hated my father's violence, I became the same kind of drunk. I had gotten away from the other family member who sexually abused me and started seeking out older boyfriends. It was a protection impulse, but it seemed that I was attracted to the same kinds of men -- violent, sexually deviant. Over the course of eight years, from thirteen to twenty-one, I got pregnant six times and miscarried six times.

I could tell you I drank and popped pills through all this to deal with the pain (of various sorts). That's true to an extent, though by the time I landed in my first "treatment" at nineteen, it was hard to separate the issues. The dragon was awake in me, and I used because I didn't know anything else. Was scared to think about anything else.

I got married, I left my husband, I returned to a boyfriend of a few years earlier. I got pregnant again and this time, at twenty-one, something happened in me that helped me respect the life growing in me. My son was born two months before my 22nd birthday -- over nine pounds and healthy. I stopped using (cocaine, pot at that time) when I realized I was pregnant, and I stayed clean for almost a year after while I nursed him. I met another man at this time, a single father, and by the time my son was two, we were living together. I started drinking again, and he is an admitted (and still active) alcoholic. And violent like me. We beat on each other for almost seven years -- except for the brief period in the middle when I got pregnant with my daughter. He was still physically aggressive with me, but perhaps because I wasn't drinking, perhaps because I felt protective of her, I didn't antagonize him. I gave birth two months prematurely to a healthy seven-pound baby girl. Again, I abstained while I nursed her, but the very day she was weaned, I returned to the drinking.

All this time, I had physical issues. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after my son's birth. I'd had symptoms since my teens, but no one knew what it was then. I had disc issues in my back from scoliosis (symmetrical, side-to-side curve -- you can't tell by looking at me). I was also diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, which was hell to deal with until it went into remission with my daughter's pregnancy. It's come back, though thankfully not debilitating, in the past three years (she's now 16, so I had a 13 year reprieve).

After leaving her father at my best friend's urging (she was sure one of us would end up dead), I entered another relationship. The details aren't important, though it was another dysfunctional relationship. When you talk about losing everything, Ekat, I relate. A business, a house, cars, all my jewelry, furniture, electronics -- it took me some time to get over the resentment about that. But that was at the end, and it's what I needed to do to get clean. Life was more important than stuff at that point.

Two years before I left, nine years ago in January of 2001, I had a medical procedure (epidural nerve block) that left me crippled. The doctor slipped and hit my spinal cord. The resulting condition -- RSD -- affected both my legs, and I was in more physical pain than I'd experienced in all my other conditions combined. Although it took months for my legs to lose muscle and the bones to begin to atrophy, I literally could not put my weight on them. I still have the pain, though I've made peace with it. I did learn to walk again, ten months clean, but...well, it's a story for another time.

The bottom line is this: with the "highlights" I described above, the emotional, mental and physical pain I experienced, the icing on the proverbial cake in those final days of using was that I knew I was dying and I didn't want my kids to go through life thinking I'd given up on them. We no longer had a relationship. Other people I'd brought into my home were taking care of them. I didn't even know them anymore. But I brought them into this world. They didn't knock on my door asking me to be their mom. I felt I owed them something, even though dying would have been much easier at the time than trying to do something about the condition I was in. I don't think I even cared if I died trying. I wanted them to know I would try, and if I had breath in me, I'd continue to try.

That was more than seven years ago. A lot happened in that first year that wasn't pleasant, that would have, at another point in time, been reason enough to throw my hands in the air and give up (I was broke, I had a mouthy teenage boy on my hands, I had a little girl who lied for no apparent reason, I was still strapped to a wheel chair, I lived with my kids in a bad part of town -- and I still had incredible physical pain I didn't know what to do with). But I didn't give up. I found some faith along the way, and I had the experience of living through some very tough times to give me courage. I also threw myself into a program of recovery (at first, both NA & AA; now strictly AA) and worked with a sponsor to take the steps. I put my recovery in front of everything else in my life, including my kids because without it, I lose anything I've gotten back -- and anything new that's come my way.

In the next six years, I went back to school and graduated with high honors. I received a full scholarship to grad school. I maintain an apartment in the city and manage to juggle work (teaching), school, family and recovery -- the latter not being so hard anymore because it runs through everything I do. I'm still limited physically. I walk with a cane. I have bones made of glass. I have flares several times a month where the pain becomes more than I'd prefer to handle, but I do it. Why? Because I'm living, and I prefer to keep living. I'm happy, in spite of any difficulties that remain or arise -- and they do. This is life, and we most times, we don't get to dictate the way it evolves around us.

That's the abbreviated version, Ekat. I don't walk in your shoes, but in my parallel journey, I think I can confidently say again: If I can do it, I know you can, too.

Peace & Love,
Sugah

I don't know how to reply, except that I know that you skipped A LOT and I'm still trying to process your post. My life was different, yet similar. But what really haunts me is, "Why would this happen to anyone? I know that extreme childhood trauma leaves terrible scars. Personally, I thought that I could transcend it. In fact, it wasn't until the past 5 years that I began to really tumble. I used food (anorexia) and then money to numb my pain, but when my husband divorced me, I had no safety net, and I started to spiral downwards.

I don't know how you keep going, Sugah. I'm proud of your accomplishments. That's really something.

Love, Ekat

[Sugah]

Ekat, I think my point is (though I wasn't explicit) that we all have these things, or some form of them in our past. But I don't think it creates that very real physical propensity to abuse substances or attempt to control the uncontrollable in other ways (like your anorexia and money addictions). My husband is a good example. His childhood was idyllic. Traditional nuclear family, middle-class two-cars in the garage existence. Neither parent or any grandparents that he can find had alcohol issues, yet he became a drunk. Yes, he had heartache in his life (I have two step-sons who lost their mother to alcoholism), but he was already firmly alcoholic by that time. Why him? Why any of us?

I don't know the answer. I know it's not necessary to have the answer to move beyond it. I can tell you that it's not surprising that I'm an alcoholic/addict because I have plenty of them in my family, but that doesn't explain my husband, and he's recovered, so it must mean we don't have to have something to point at and say, "That's why." Sometimes, I think it does more harm than good looking for a reason. Saying, "It's no wonder I am the way I am" keeps us locked in that victim mentality.

Thank you for your kind words. I feel very good about what I've been able to do, and I know it wouldn't be possible unless I put the possible without recovery. I wouldn't have even dreamed it. I doubt very much if I'd still be alive if not for recovery.

We can get "unstuck," Ekat. Are you ready to break loose?

Peace & Love,
Sugah

[Sarahspeaks]

Sugah .... your posts inspire me !

I feel like I should clarify .. I'm knew to posting "about myself" .... I initially started coming here for support because two of my kids were using - how ironic is that ! Although I'm taking prescribed oxy for pain ... after reading here for many months ... I do believe I may have a problem.... I've just been too busy being "good" to admit it ....

But I don't deny I am afraid .... how do people treat pain without becoming "addicted" to any med? Is it ever okay to take a drug like oxycodone .... or is it just evil ?? period ..... its all pretty confusing!

Sarah