13 years of One Day at a Time

Isn’t she pretty? I want to thank YOU for supporting me.  I have so much to share but THIS? This is something I had to share with you immediately.

Today? Today I am grateful. And 13 years drug free.

I read the headline tonight that Mindy McCready, another addict who struggled and seemed to have one thing after another try to bring her down, died today due to a self-inflicted gun shot wound. Her addiction won. Did she not have enough support? Did she believe the lies addiction tells addicts? Did she feel like nothing would ever be okay? Did she think the pain she felt today would last forever? So many of us addicts have felt those things. Today, it won. Every single time addiction and its demons beat one of us, it shakes me. But for the grace of God go I. I do have support but I am not immune to the lies it tells, the loneliness it brings, the pain that rips through me. I’ve learned to reach out. And when I can’t or don’t, my friends know the signs well enough to reach out to me. I wish Mindy had that.

This year feels harder on me than most others. I have been struggling with chronic headaches. I don’t mean headaches that slow me down. I mean headaches that slam me down in ways that put everything on hold. My life is a constant headache. I have learned to live around them until we can find someone who can find a reason or help me through it. But every few months a migraine comes along that kicks me so hard, I simply cannot do it without medical intervention. They do everything they can for me that does not involve narcotics. But sometimes, that is the only way to break that cycle. And that is the bitch of it.

There is no reason an alcoholic needs to have a doctor give him or her a drink. There is no reason to need to go into a bar and throw back a shot of tequila. But when you’re a recovering pill-head, there are times when there is a medical necessity for pain killers. And each and every time it twists me up inside. When I feel the effects it gives me both relief and heartache. I keep my doctors in the loop so they are very well aware of my situation. Yet, still…

Empty…

Two weeks ago I had to go into the ER for a migraine. My pain was off the charts and my blood pressure was through the roof. I had to go in. I know the routine. This time I had a doctor I have never met before.  After they hooked me up to an IV and gave me a shot for pain, they darkened the room to monitor my blood pressure. I supposed it didn’t help that I was crying. The doctor came in and sat by my bed. She took my hand and talked to me. Actually, talked to me. We talked about the frustration of feeling the pain medicine course through my body. And for once, a doctor gave me permission to not only be frustrated by the situation but in a way gave me permission to be grateful to feel the pain drain away. I have conditioned myself to hate the feeling of the medicine taking over even though it means the pain leaves. For the first time someone sat with me, held my hand, and told me that it was okay to feel relief that my pain was going away. That to beat myself up mentally was counter-productive. She heard me. It’s been so long since a medical professional has actually heard me. It made a difference.

As I laid there and watched the monitors and I finally relaxed, my blood pressure slowly lowered. I had permission to be okay with not hurting. It was okay. I was not slipping. I was not backsliding. I was not “using” for a high. I was helping myself medically. And that was okay.

My name is Jenn and I am a recovering addict. And sometimes, I need medical intervention. And that is okay.

So, if you will, my faithful readers, hang in there with me until March 6th and encourage me to keep going one day at a time then together we can celebrate 13 years. One day at a time (trite as it may sound) will get me there. That and the people in my life who encourage, love, and support me.

4. I had extra house guests. My son and his friend moved in (complete with the most awesome dog) and let’s just say that kept me not only busy but entertained. I love a full house!

3. I have been on the hunt for work. I can’t say much but HEY if you want to hire me, let me know.

2. The weather has had the barometer going up and down and up and down and … well, that means my migraines are kicking my ass. I even got a lovely trip to the ER. Rather than the usual routine, my blood pressure decided to go sky high so they got to add extra meds and IV’s. Big fun people. And trust me, though it may be entertaining for me to write on the medicine the hospital gives me, it is wrong for me on so many levels.

And the number 1 reason I haven’t blogged:

1.  My son and his friend moved out. Into their own apartment. It is close, so I am blessed. But MOVED OUT. Like his room is empty. And my heart hurts. I have an entire blog post about it but let me just give you a taste with this: Why don’t people talk more about how it hurts when you feel that after almost 20 years, your being phased out of your job? We need to talk about that.  And I will. Both here and on Teen Raisers.

SO there you have it. Why I was blogging not like it was 2003 but more like it was 2002. You know, back before this blog in this form existed. So even though I don’t really do Lent (Can you “do Lent??”) I am going to give up putting my thoughts and ideas and such onto Facebook and am going to blog. So, for Lent, I am giving up not blogging.

Are you with me? What are you giving up?

Even the dogs miss the boys. But they do love to snuggle!

When I started blogging way back in the stone ages when we had to use stone tablets and chisel out our posts (or as some people call it 2003), it was an entirely different world. I don’t mean world in the sense of the entire world but in the blogging world. We told stories. We had a community that grew to know each other because we shared stories about life: the funny, the silly, the serious, the real. And things changed. First there was the “OMG ADS!” phase that should have been a peek into what was to come. But oh no! Then the evil “REVIEWS” came along. (SELLOUTS!) But still we wrote. We shared. We ignored the noise. But wait! Then came THE TRIPS! People were sending bloggers on PAID trips to cool places. OMG! That is so awesome/awful/great/evil/coveted/hated. And let’s not forget the BEST LISTS! On blogs it could be somewhat easy to ignore if you wanted to for a while. But then Twitter and Facebook and Instagram (Oh my!) added to the noise. And some of the blogs that had stories I loved to read began to read like one giant paid advertisement. OR the stories were replaced with a short paragraph of “must update so here you go” without thought to content or writing. THE NOISE online became really, really loud.

And none of those things are bad. I am not against any of them or anti-anything (bloggish).

But oh the NOISE.

And really? Let’s be honest. I got lost in the noise. My stories got lost, too. Sometimes because they had to so I could fulfill a commitment. Sometimes because I would update on Facebook and ignore the blog. Sometimes because “Why bother? I’m not getting the fun stuff so pffffft on you!”

But mainly, the NOISE drowned out my voice.

It sounds cheesy, but I really had to step back out of it all and re-evaluate why I blog. Why am I on Facebook? Why am I on Twitter? Instagram? Pinterest?

Because I enjoy them. I really do.

But when I felt like I had to do it all, I got lost in the NOISE.

Looking back at the amazing opportunities I received, they all came from real writing on my BLOG!

I was signed with an agent…because of my writing.

I was invited to Washington DC with Dr. Drew Pinsky to talk to members of Congress…because of my writing.

I was asked to be a long term product ambassador with brands I respect and enjoy…because of my writing.

I was a contributor in two anthologies…because of my writing.

I received a person phone call from Gloria Steinem (complete with her personal home phone number for future use)… because of my writing.

I was asked to write for two national magazine publications… because of my writing.

I interviewed some amazing celebrities… because of my writing.

I was asked to speak several times at a few conferences to share my experience… because of my writing.

I was given the opportunity to meet some amazing authors I admire… because of my writing.

I made some lifelong friends when I shared my life on my blog… because of my writing.

I can go on and on about the wonderful opportunities and jobs I was offered because of my blog writing. Not because of snarky Facebook posts. Not because of 144 characters of charm. Not because of an artsy picture. (Though using those to share my writing help!)

I used to write here for the love of the blog. Then I did it because I felt I needed to write. Then I just didn’t.

But I am turning back the clock. I’m taking back my blog and using social media in the best way I know how to dim the noise and amplify my passion for writing.

I want to write. I really do. Who is with me?

FOR LOVE OF THE BLOG!

(Have a favorite post of yours? Share the url in the comments if you want a visit. I want to read blogs, too!)

Me to my husband: “Can you go to the…that place…you know…that place we go…uhhh…they have things you buy… you know what I mean…that..what do you call it??”

Husband: “Do you mean a grocery store?”

Me: “Yes! Words are hard.”

And then I was embarrassed so I became all “I’m good.” I tried to convince him I was just kidding. We both knew better.

What I love about this so much is that I HATE IT! I really don’t like the medicated feeling. I don’t like feeling so fuzzy and out of it. Once I was all about the high. Now? I truly get frustrated and cannot stand that this is where I have to be right now.

Before you ask, yes, I have spoken to my sponsor and keep this closely under observation. And, yes, I spend most of my time sleeping so that 1) I don’t feel as much pain and 2) so I don’t have to feel that icky feeling.

But I write. Because I said I would. And so I am.

If you think this sucks, try reading my NaNoWriMo work. Now that? That is pathetic. But? I am writing and that is what I need. Now more than ever.

PS- I am doing MUCH better and am way more successful so far at NaNaTaMo. I RULE that one.

So, how YOU doin’?

So add in a little bit of not quite right thinking because your doctor put you on some heavy medication, that show will mess you up! I was watching it tonight when my middle son came in and was all, “MOM! I told you not to watch that before bed. I would think you would realize that also means while you’re in a somewhat altered state. Go watch Glee. Or Mad Men. Or some fluffy show you have on the DVR.”  (Yes, I was reprimanded by my son. But he was totally right.)

Can I just tell you that when I fell into a bizarre sleep I did dream about Walter White (from Breaking Bad) trying to do a musical with the kids from Glee in order to launder his meth money but they had to make sure not to infringe on Stefano (from Days of Our Lives) territory. Now that, people, is a jacked up dream. And though it freaked me out, it gave me a blog post. And isn’t that really all we want during NaBloPoMo?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Those charts they have in the ER with the various faces to describe your pain? Yeah, they need to make those more dramatic. And with better captions.  Like the first one, pain face 0? It should be “I have a unicorn at home and you don’t.” (Though I do like that it says “No hurt” rather than “No pain” which makes it sound much more like a reggae song. “No frowny. No hurt.”

Pain face #1 just shouts “I use too many emoticons so unless you turn that sideways, I am not sure that you are kidding. Are you kidding? Just kidding.”

Pain face #2 is more like “If I just sit here and stare at you long enough, I may be able to hypnotize you and make you cluck like a chicken.”

Pain face #3 looks more like “Dammit, I just farted and there is no one else around to blame it on.”

Pain face #4 is all “I’m going for the emo look and you should respect my pain cred, yo.”

But #5 is more like “I just heard they cancelled Glee and where am I going to get my show choir fix now? I’m going to need a lot of ice cream this week.”

They need to add #6 where the smiley face is all red, pissed off, and looks a bit homicidal. Now that would be way more accurate.  Stabby. They need to add “stabby” for one of those. (Sidenote: Doctors don’t find it humorous when you say you are pain level 6 and all stabby. They get all nervous and shit.)

Right now, my pain level is Pi(e). No. Not 3.14 but “I need pie because the medicine they gave me makes me feel like a college kid who totally has the munchies and even though my head still kind of hurts, I am pretty sure pie will fix it all.”

First up:  NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) where I am to post here every day this month. (This drivel counts.)

But also NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) where I AM going to conquer an entire novel in one month. (I wrote some this morning but not enough but I did start.)

Yes. I am trying BOTH!

And my dad’s birthday.
And mah birthday! (November 7th for those taking notes.)
And Thanksgiving.

And…

NaNaTaMo (National Nap Taking Month) where I commit to taking a nap every day this month.

So how am I doing so far? I am blogging from the ER on my phone (dedication, people) because of my headaches.  I mean I am in the ER because of my headaches not blogging on my phone because of my headaches because if you think about it that would totally make it worse. My headaches. But probably my blogging too. Not a great start. Maybe that means an amazing ending.

So here’s a cute picture I have on my phone of my Dobie who is totally humiliated that I put a silk scarf on him. Enjoy the adorableness while I wait for the meds to kick in and to see unicorns and finally understand the words to In-A Gadda-Da-Vida.

Seriously? Do NOT put this on the Internet.

“The Sob” by David Alfaro Siqueiros taken at the MoMA in NYC

So where was I? Oh, yes, I was telling you about being plunged into a darkness unlike any I have known before. The trigger was a broken heart but it was far from the cause. It was as if someone had actually thrown a dark, heavy blanket over my head. I sort of, kind of tried to share with some friends but it wasn’t a true opening up. It was more saying I needed a break and was stressed out. When I saw this was different, I reached out and emailed a friend who I knew went through this and has learned to deal with it and is open about it. (I just didn’t think I could or should reach out to my friends because everyone has something going on and no one needs my extra drama. Reaching out to someone who I know has been there and come through it seemed like reaching out to another addict. You go to those who have gone before. And? I really don’t want to be “that” friend.) After a few emails (and trust me when I say it was one of the hardest things to do to even email) many of them with me apologizing for “bothering” her and sharing my embarrassment about being so weak, she sent me an email I needed to read at that moment.

Never feel humiliated for reaching out.  You are worth more
than you know and I’m here for you.  Promise.

Many times since then I have pulled out that email and read and re-read it to remind myself that there is someone who knows where I am.

Much like when I confessed that I don’t want to talk but wish I had a friend’s hand to hold. One of my dearest friends sent me a message with no words. It simply had a picture of her hand. In case I needed to remember that someone was there to hold my hand if I ever needed it. A reminder she cared.

Many times when it seems the darkest, I stare at that picture and pretend I have not isolated and she really is there to hold my hand.

It’s a double edge sword having many of the people who know you best and are the very closest to you live so very far away from you. It is so easy to say you need some time offline and shut down connections. But then when it gets to a point where you are drowning or feeling completely alone, it is harder to reach out. It’s an ugly cycle. You need to be alone but alone makes things worse but you hear the lies of depression and don’t feel worthy of your friends so you pull further away and it gets darker and your feelings of worthlessness grow stronger and the lies are more believable and you pull even deeper into yourself… And on and on.

There were days where the hardest thing to do (and what I considered my biggest success) was simply getting out of bed and going through the motions of the day. It kicks my other two “bad guys” into gear: addiction and anxiety. I start really wishing I could just take something, just medicate myself to wellness. But I know better. And then anxiety tells me I can’t share what I am going through because I will be judged. I will be mocked. I will lose those I love. All the while depression taps me on the shoulder with the sing-song voice mocking “I told you so! Forever alone! I told you so! Forever alone!” (Assholes!)

Remember back when I told you as a recovering addict? How I don’t have the best coping skills? I’m learning. I mean, I sought out someone to talk to and we’re working through the issues that brought me to this point. From not really dealing with the death of my mother to the nervous breakdown my former “friends” slammed me to the ground with to ways of reaching out to the people I love so they can tell me what is a lie and what is real. (That last one is the very hardest for me.)

And I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous between an “obvious” lie and reality. How can anyone not know the difference? Well, sometimes it really is hard to tell. When everything to your core shouts that you are worthless and not worthy of the friends and family you have because look at what the former “friends” you had did to you, it  feels so real.

I know the darkness will lift and the world will feel bright and light again. I know this. I just hope and pray that when it does, I haven’t pushed away everyone I love. I don’t want it to be too late. This? This is not the end of the story.

It is just the beginning.

Anxiety is a liar. It tells you things really are that bad. It tells you the panic you feel is justified. That you may not know why you feel anxious but you should “listen to your gut” because bad things could happen. That you may be right about there not being enough oxygen in this room for everyone. That you shouldn’t go to that event because you won’t fit in, will be laughed at, or that you really don’t belong there and everyone will know it. Anxiety is liar.

Depression is a liar. It tells you that you are not worthy. That you don’t really matter even to the people who say you do. That if you disappeared, it wouldn’t make a difference to anyone. That people would be better off without you and your broken self. It tells you the darkness will last forever and you’re not strong enough to come out of it. It tells you that you are alone and no one understands you. It says it won’t get better. It tells you that even if you did share your desperation, no one would understand and it would only make things worse. Depression is a liar.

If you know anything about me, you know I have no problem talking about the fact that I am a recovering addict. And? I’ve addressed anxiety and having panic attacks before. I have absolutely no problem talking about those two things. I will share my stories. I have shared my tips on how to conquer them when you feel as if they are strangling you. I have shown you ways to see that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and signs to recognize that you will come out of it. (And be stronger and feel happiness when you come through it.)

But depression? Oh hell no! Don’t talk about that one. It is “t-a-b-o-o.” Depression means crazy. It means sick. It means you are weak and probably a drama queen. (Lies.) But what I learned about addiction and anxiety is when you talk about them and share your story not only do you help yourself and others but you take away the power it holds over you. When kept in the darkness, those things can set up camp in your mind and become more powerful than they deserve.

So I am sharing with you. (Because I want to take away its power.)

This is the face of depression. Of broken.

I’ll be honest. I never really dealt with things the way I should have after my Mom died. Hell, I didn’t deal with things as I should have during the six months prior to her dying while she was in the hospital. But life doesn’t stop just because your world feels like it fell apart. It doesn’t even pause. Life moves on. And so did I. There were some big life changes that happened in the years that followed. Big or small, good or bad, I pushed them down into the vault where I would deal with them on the surface but never really deal with them. Then in the Spring of 2010, I hit a breaking point. You see, that year I did something I never thought I would do. I stepped up into a job that I wanted to do out of passion but knew I would need the support of friends. At the time, these friends swore they would be there to help. People who said they cared and said they were there for me in truth were not. As it turns out, those “friends” very viciously and publicly turned on me and stabbed me in the back. Now, the Jenn who took drug addiction and kicked its ass would have stood up and fought back. She would never have just backed off and allowed the malicious intent of toxic people to spread rumors, lies, and downright try to ruin me. But that Jenn was buried under so many other issues in life that she couldn’t take this one on. And they broke my heart. My spirit. Me. I broke. I watched and just let things happen that shouldn’t have happened. I chose to sink deeper into myself rather than stand up to the bullshit around me. I let people who wanted to believe the crap that was being hurled believe it. And those who knew me or truly wanted the truth, I told them. It was a rough year following that. I isolated. But on the plus side, I truly saw who was toxic and who were bullies and who really didn’t need to be in my life. I made new friends who saw the truth. But really? I just didn’t have it in me to face this all head on. The broken parts of me were too broken to handle it. And life became too busy for me to truly deal with everything. My family needed me. That summer was just a time where more bits of me were broken off. But I had responsibilities that I couldn’t put off. So I moved on.

Of course during all of this I did the worst possible thing I could do: I isolated and refused to shed light on the broken parts. As a recovering addict, I know if I am struggling with addiction, I have to talk to someone. I have to tell someone the lies I am believing so they can show me what is real. When I am struggling with anxiety, I have learned I need to talk to someone who has been there who can show me that I will be okay and how to push through it. It always shatters the lies I was believing and helps me through because they show what is a lie and what is real.

But with depression? I stay silent. I always have. If anything, I minimize it and just say I am a bit down.

I got through that hard time with friends who really were friends and who loved me for me. Did I ever deal with it as I should have? Not really. And life moves on.

I could see the ebb and flow of depression and I dealt with it the best way I knew how. I started to become me again and was happy and enjoyed time with my family and my friends and life felt right again.

Obviously, as a recovering addict, I don’t really have the best coping skills. (Duh!) But I have learned (as best I can) to live life on life’s terms. I can’t change other people. I can’t make anyone be someone they aren’t or do something they don’t want to do.  That’s just a fact. Good things began to happen in my life this summer. Things that make me so happy! One of my closest friends moved back to town after 3 years. I was able to spend an amazing few days in NYC with some of my dearest friends laughing, crying, being myself. Truly and without apology being myself. (That is rare but oh so needed to be around people where I feel as if I can truly be myself and am loved in spite of it. Maybe even because of it.)

And a couple of weeks ago things changed. Someone I love broke a promise to me and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. And it threw me into a darkness unlike any I have been through before….

(This is becoming quite long so stick with me, take a break and then go read part II)