Originally Posted by Jilllian

I moved back here, "home" to the most quaint and picturesque village in upstate NY in June of 2009. I haven't left my bedroom since. That's almost 3 straight years lying in bed, and pretty much doing nothing but feeling sad about why my life hadn't turned out the way I wanted it and planned it too.

I remember the first time trying to get oxys in the city (NYC) - the pharmacist said they didn't have them. I thought, "hmmm....that's weird." Three more pharmacies later, same thing. The bullet proof glass in front of the pharmacy areas should have clued me into the dangers of these pills. And to their savage darkness.

But once I found them, and experienced what they could do, I felt immediate relief. And freedom. Pain-free. Freedom to do all of the physical things I couldn't do after my accident. I felt like I had my life back, plus a little buzz to go along with it. I moved in with my (now) ex, in January of 2008. My only job was to get better. He would take care of everything else. I didn't get better, though. Things got worse. I became a person I didn't know. Once vibrant and fun, I was now scared and skittish, not wanting to do anything, or to be seen outside unless aboslutely necessary. How was I going to manage these tennis lessons he signed me up for? And sailing? As silly as this sounds, these two thoughts are what drove me to leave him. I was petrified of leaving my cocoon of an existence. To interact with others face-to-face. I had no desire. I knew I couldn't do it.

I did the housework and cooking and yard work and things like that, but only because they had to be done. I got no joy out of gardening anymore. Things became very strained between my ex and I. He didn't try to understand. I told him I was depressed, but didn't know why. He wanted to fix me, but didn't know how.

Fast forward to June of 2009, and we had agreed to separate. I moved back to the home my children were before. And I didn't leave this home really until I began working again in February of 2010. I didn't leave my bedroom until that time, only to go grocery shopping at one of those 24-hour superstore type places every once in a while.

I popped a pill before my alarm clock even went off each morning. I got the kids off to school mostly with verbal prompts from my bedroom. We ate out at least 5 nights each week, because I was zapped of the energy to cook, which is something I once enjoyed doing very much. I went from singing and listening to music while ironing my son's school uniforms in the evning, to grabbing and smelling what might or might not have been a clean uniform off his bedroom floor, throwing it in the dryer, and a few minutes later, calling it dewrinkled enough to wear.

Fast forward almost 3 years later, and I'm in bed as I type this. The only thing that seems to have changed is my location. And the ages and heights of my two wonderful kids. I still wish I could sleep the day away so that I didn't experience any emotional pain, but I can't.

Some moments and days, I'm all gung-ho, and "I CAN DO THIS!!" and other moments/days, I'm saying to myself, "I'm in pain again. I should get that script filled and THEN start stopping. Yeah, that's a better idea. I've got the rest of the week off from work, and can get high as a kite as a going away gift to myself, and THEN I'll stop."

It's sick.

My boyfriend is a doctor. I am mortified that I'm an addict and have hid this from him for the last year. He prescribes suboxone to some of his patients. He wrote my last prescription for oxys for me because he's convinced my primary care doctor is an idiot. He has me come in monthly for an assessment and has been writing the scripts for two months now. What he doesn't now is that for the first month, I filled both my PCP's prescirptions AND my boyfriend's prescriptions, paying cash for the scripts my boyfriend wrote, and allowing the others to go through my insurance.

What a tangled web I've weaved.

He would be so proud of me if he knew today was my 6th day of being totally clean. Or, perhaps he'd want to cut all ties with me now, because being with an addict isn't a walk in the park. Either way, I'd never know because I shut my phone off in the moring and don't turn it on until nighttime, and even then just to see what calls I've missed.

I've done so many terrible things on these drugs and want the madness to end.

If being almost past the 6th mark is a good thing, then great. But unfortunately, I had no plan besides "Eff this. I'm done. Life's too short."

I really hadn't thought this through very welll.....