As I was driving to WaWa (see, thinking and driving again) I realized that I started this in the middle of my story. So I decided I would give a quick update on who I am, and why I'm here.
Let me TRY to start, roughly from the beginning.
I was born on August 28, 1972 at 5:38am....well, that's not really relivant so I'll fast forward about twenty some odd years. About 10 years ago I was in a pretty volatile marriage. Looking back I'm pretty sure my ex-husband hated me for the majority of our marriage. We fought..hardcore. And he was violent, really violent. I don't remember at what point I found Percocet, but man, when I did I was a lucky gal. I could chew handfuls of them at a time and my life didn't matter anymore. I didn't have to deal with the reality that my life had become. Things spiraled out of control quickly, as most addictions do. At this point I had moved back home to PA after getting divorced, I had been living in Florida. My addiction had a firm grip on me and even though I knew in the back of my mind that things were getting bad, I couldn't stop. If I ran out of pills, I went through the worst withdrawals. So I started to do stupid things to ensure that I wouldn't run out. On THAT part I'm not going into detail. But finally, as it always does, it caught up with me. Like they say "Jails, instituions, and death" I was certainly facing one of those. So I was offered a second chance at life, but for a price. And I took it and ran. On November 14, 2008 I was admitted into a program that basically saved my life. I had gotten myself clean about 2 weeks prior to this, on my own and it was brutal. That whole scene in Trainspotting with the baby crawling across the ceiling is NO exaggeration, be sure of that. I thought I was dying, I wanted to die. But I stuck with it and didn't give in. minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned into weeks and the dope sickness started to wear off. Finally. I started this intensive program with a clean slate and a chance at a new life and I felt great. The program is severe and I still have about 9 more months to go. But if I'm going to be honest with myself, and that's the whole point of this blog, then I have to admit it kept me from dying. I was in intensive outpatient therapy, I have to go to court all the time, I have to pee on demand, in a cup for Probation often, etc....but it's been worth it.
The more time I had clean the more amazing I felt. But then other things started to creep up. My counselor told me "Don't worry, it's P.A.W.S. It's completely normal, everything you are going through is normal" (BTW..PAWS stands for Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome) I'm beginning to think that PAWS is worse then withdrawal. It's fucked with my memory (hence the 70% nickname, its made me rage and snap at absolutely nothing, drug dreams, hyperactive, depressed..you name it basically) They say this could go on for at least a year..yay me? But anyway, that's the long and short of it. It is a much much longer tale, but I am not really ready to tackle all of that yet. This is a start...a big start for me because this is public and I'm extremely shy. I'll throw more in, here and there as I go on. Off to play Cranium with my mini-me...wish me luck, she kicks my ass in every game we play together.
XOXO
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