Test of Strength

My doctor has decided to keep me stablized at the current regimen until we return from Jamaica. He suggested I stay on the painkillers indefinitely, but I was adamant that I try life without them. So, we came up with a two week taper plan that will start on our next appointment- March 3rd. The day after we get back from Negril. It's going to be VITAL that I take full advantage of our vacation and not spend that week stressing about coming home and detoxing. That means preparing now. I've joined an online support group, which has provided an abundance of resources and listening ears. I'll need to make sure that I reach out to friends and family during the tough days, and rally a 'team' around me. I'm not the first (and I won't be the last) person to struggle with this.

As nice as my doctor is, he could have been far more encouraging during our visit. I understand the importance of communicating the risks and possibilities to a patient when she is about to try something new. But the good doctor said point blank that I was going to be in an incredible amount of pain during and after the opiate taper. In fact, he did a damn good job of drilling it into my head. I'm now faced with the task of accepting it and not worrying about it for the next month. The more I think about being in pain, the more severe the pain will be. This isn't just a physical challenge. Psychologically, I have to be in the right headspace going forth.

Take a deep breath...

young and restless

writer's block is driving me crazy. so much is racing through my head but i'm unable to get it out. thoughts come in spurts and there is no fluidity in my ramblings. i'm fidgeting while staring blankly at the screen. i type less than a sentence before i press the delete button. i step away from the computer and ice my neck. i try to make myself eat something. i get in the hot tub, which doesn't feel quite hot enough today. my husband convinces me to brave the cold and accompany him on his thirtieth trip to the home improvment store. i pick out a magazine rack and some candles for my office. the purchase gives me a little feeling of satisfaction. eventually, i find myself back in the same chair staring at the screen, kneading my knuckes into my neck as i always do when it throbs. deciding i can't force what's not coming, i stop trying to write. and hope for a flash of brilliance.

I have to praise you...

For a long time, I felt like no one I knew could possibly understand what living with chronic pain was like. Even though common sense told me I wasn't alone, there was no one I spoke to on a regular basis who I thought could relate. When I started the withdrawal process, the feelings of isolation only got more intense. My phone went virtually unanswered, and my only link to the outside world was my computer. I would shower only when absolutely necessary, because even that seemed like such a chore.

But now that I'm stabilized and off some of the drugs, I'm in a more positive headspace. I am by no means a constant ray of sunshine, but I'm smiling and laughing again. I'm rediscovering not just myself, but Aaron as well. I'm back in touch with a couple of friends. My worries about the next tapering step are still there, but I feel like I'm a little better equipped to deal with the impending opiate withdrawals.

Yesterday, I got an email from someone on myspace... We'd never spoken, but I had put her on my friends list when I saw she lived in Indiana. She had been checking out my page, and noticed that we had some things in common- just one of which was chronic neck pain. As it turns out, we don't live very far apart, so we decided to meet for coffee this afternoon. First meetings can be a little nerve wracking, but instantly I saw similarities between us. What initially struck me was how thin we both were- yet another side effect of pain medication. She had a funky style and I could tell right away that this girl was openminded and interesting. We spent the afternoon sipping on coffee, and sharing stories about our lives. The time flew by. Never in a million years did I think I'd meet someone I could identify with so well. It was almost uncanny. She recently had neck fusion surgery and recommended her doctor. I've never seen an orthopedic surgeon. I've been to physiatrists, neurologists, pain management specialists, neurosurgeons... But never an orthopedist. From the sound of it, we have similar problems with our cervical spine, so it can't hurt to seek another opinion.

After a four day marathon, the basement is looking beautiful. The bar is nearly complete, the hardwood is down, the shuffleboard has arrived and the giant television is installed. We picked out furniture and carpet this weekend. Everything will be done just in time for Aaron's asshole friends to come over and trash it. That sounds so bitchy, I know. I take it back. Last year I had a great time at our Superbowl party watching everyone get stupid. In fact, I seem to remember blogging about how well it went. It's natural for me to be a little nervous. I can be the epitome of anti social sometimes, so I just have to take that for what it is- a behavioral and thought pattern I want to change.

Change. It's constant. I have a seemingly never ending list of things I want to change about myself. But usually, I fail to give myself credit for the differences I've made in my life. So for today, I'm patting myself on the back.

Move Along

The home office that I thought had gone by the wayside has taken shape. Aaron got it painted this week, and it's now a beautiful shade of smoky purple. I had a vision when we first moved in, of a room filled with bright, jewel tones where I could lay and read on a bed of pillows, or sit at my cherry desk and look out into the backyard. I imagined it to be a place to foster creativity, and even with just the paint change and the relocation of the computer, I know I will be spending a lot of time in this room.

The basement has taken on a life of it's own, and it's become a money eating monster. My husband is burning the candle at both ends trying to get everything done by the Superbowl. He has just over two weeks, and there have been more than a few snags so far. I hardly see him, although I hear him and his friends sawing, drilling and hammering. Every few hours he comes upstairs and checks on me, asking how his sexy girl is doing. I tell him I don't feel sexy, and he smiles, kisses me, and tells me it's ok... I don't know how he is handling all of this stress, but he's managing it very well.

Our first marriage counseling sesssion was this week. It was the typical, 'tell me why you're here.' I cried, of course, and Aaron was the strong, stoic one as always. He was very open with the therapist, which is hard for him to do. This man never ceases to amaze me with his endless patience and unconditional love. He shows so much strength. We will be going once a week to begin with, and see how it progesses. I will also be seeing a new counselor solo too- hopefully a woman closer to home.

We just found out that we're leaving for Negril, Jamaica in a month. I'm excited, but nervous- I don't know how I will feel. If you have to feel crappy though, I guess there's no better place to do it than at a tropical resort. I am fortunate to have in-laws who are so generous. They may not believe the same things as I do, but Aaron's family have taken me in as one of their own. His dad actually had a dependence on Percocet, and got off of it, even though he struggles with chronic pain.

My body is going through changes. Maintaining weight is a battle-I have no appetite and am forcing food down. My period has lasted over a week, which is totally abnormal for me. Digestion was a huge problem- I won't go into more detail than that- but I'm already seeing major improvements. I've started getting 7 hours of sleep again, which feels soooooo good.

My emotions are still very volatile. I continue to shed tears and deal with an anxiety overload, but try to tell myself that this is all part of the process. I am growing restless with being alone most of the time, but haven't figured out what to do about it. Not everyone can handle being friends with a woman like me... And I have to let that be ok.

Sometimes

I react before I've had a chance to absorb what I've heard, read or discovered.

I let my emotions do my thinking for me.

I take things out of context.

I feel like a giant asshole, for jumping the gun or misunderstanding.

I have a horrible case of foot in mouth disease.

I take out my frusteration on other people, who only want to help.

I drown in self pity, and then have to ask for a life preserver.

I defend myself when no defense is needed.

I feel like no one will ever understand me.

I wonder if I will ever understand myself.

SICK

I went in for my follow up alone this morning; shaking, sweating and feeling incredibly anxious. Today was my first day without any Valium, so naturally, my nerves were worse than usual. After he kept me waiting 45 minutes, the doctor finally came in, saw my condition and told me that he didn't think I was going to be able to get off of the medication alone. I needed rapid detox, he said. He told me it would be fast, and far more comfortable than trying to get off the medication by tapering. I asked if it meant I was addicted, and he said no. I pressed for specific details, but got none. I was instead, treated like a junkie and told to go to the hospital for detoxing today. Aaron was on the phone throughout the entire appointment, and by the time I got home, he was worried sick. We decided to call the detox center and find out the process...

As it turns out, there is no rapid detox at the hospital. Instead, you're sent to the psych ward where they throw you in a room with a bed and toilet for 3-5 days, check your vital signs, and watch you shit and puke your guts out as you stop all medication cold turkey. Then, they send you to rehab. In no uncertain terms, the woman on the phone told Aaron that I was a drug addict, and had little chance of success unless I came in today and started the withdrawal. Where did she get that information? My new doctor.

Both of us hit the roof. The doctor lied to me, to Aaron. He had only met with me once before, and knew nothing about me as a person. He saw me anxious and tearful, and assumed I was pushing for more drugs. He didn't look and see that my records show a history of serious depression and anxiety. All of the non narcotic treatments I'd done; the injections, the accupuncture, the PT, the chiropractic, the massage, the outpatient surgeries- they meant nothing. He just saw what he wanted to... Some girl jonesing for a fix. (Which, if I really was addicted, I'd be getting right now, because I have a surplus of medication . The fact that I went in there having followed orders should have said something. )

After finding out all of the information, Aaron called up the doc, and unleashed his fury on the nurse. He said he would not watch me get treated like an addict and stand idly by. I listened as he ranted about the 'detox' facility, and said there was "no way in hell" that he was sending me to that withdrawal program. He ended our relationship with the physician over the phone. Then, he called my old doctor, the one who had me on all of this medication, and told his assistant the whole story.

My old doctor was on the phone right away. He immediatley told me that stopping all the Valium this quickly was dangerous, and to get back on at least one a day. He said he was going to take me back as his patient, and get me through this. Aaron and I go to see him on Jan 26th, where we will address the medication issue and find SOME path towards health. So, for now, I am going to taper down whatever meds I can on my own, and try to keep my head held high. This has been a very hard week, and I have never felt quite so alone. I know that I have one constant warrior beside me in this battle though, and today, he stood up for and fought with me again. My husband does not fuck around, people.

I'm gonna be the toughest bitch around when this is all said and done. And I'm gonna make him proud.

A Conversation

The blinds are shut
Rays of sunshine won’t be streaming through your windows
You think you’re hiding in the shadows
Safety isn’t in numbers, you say
Safety is about keeping secrets and people at a distance

You’ve opened your heart before
Only to have it stepped on. Again and again.
How many times have you broken your own heart?
How many times have you starved it of love?

When you cry out, do you cry loudly enough for others to hear?
Or softly enough so that no one can tell?

I know you’re frightened and filled with pain
I know you feel alone

You don’t have to be a prisoner to yourself
What you felt today, last week, last year…
Doesn’t have to continue
You can open the shades, one window at a time.
Let the rays of sun warm your heart,
If only for a moment…

Let yourself grieve
But let yourself love.

Who do you need when you come undone?

Each day is a battle, a shock to the senses. Everything feels intensified. Magnified. I'm sleep deprived and constantly anxious. I want to jump out of my skin at times, because I feel so uneasy. Maybe crazy is a more accurate word.

I spent the afternoon with my friend O yesterday, and I felt so incredibly awkward. Over and over I kept hearing myself apologize and self analyze. She definitely helped provide a diversion for my mind, yet I felt so scrutinized and uncomfortable...But it had nothing to do with her- it was all me. This girl is the funniest, sweetest, most openminded girl in the world, and she's made it clear that she cares for me as a friend should. But when I can't tolerate me, how on earth can anyone else? The urge to go into my self protective, detrimental secluded space is stronger than ever. I don't want to be the downer, and part of me thinks that if I just stay away from people, I won't have that problem. But I also know that when I tear away all the scar tissue and neuroticism, I'm not that sad girl. I'm far more, and I know that O has seen that quirky, silly, sexy side of me. If she didn't believe in me, we wouldn't be friends. But I feel like a circus freak right now, and I don't want to scare her away.

My husband is doing his very best to support me. He's finally, after almost 6 years together, convinced me to tell him what's wrong when he asks, instead of saying 'nothing.' I never want to be a burden, and presently, I feel like a pretty big one to carry. It is incredibly hard for me to say ' I feel ______ and need _______.' But with me at the place where I feel the most vulnerable, I had to open up to Aaron, instead of silently harboring the thunderstorm of emotions I'm feeling. He has always wanted to just fix me. That's how many men are. They want to find the logical solution and solve the problem for you. While I love him for it, we both know that nothing he will ever do can 'fix' me. Hopefully, with counseling, I can learn how to hear him better, and he can learn how to understand me better. I feel like such a fucking disappointment. The wife who got hooked on prescription pills.

People are telling me that it's not my fault, but I carry the burden of guilt anyway. No one forced me to take this medication, and I knew that tolerance would occur with long term use. But, I didn't know it would take away my sense of self, and turn me into a weak and tired girl. It's been nearly four years since the accident, and I can defintively say that the medication, on the whole, did not improve my quality of life. In the beginning when just a pill or two could knock out the pain for a while, it helped. But, now, never being pain free and being on enough medicine to kill a small horse, there is no logical reason to endure the side effects. My body chemistry is so fucked right now, and it's going to take a lot of heart and a lot of strength to get through to the other side. It's hard to look for the light, because I can't see into the future and no doctor holds any clear cut answers. I'm still in the very beginning stages of all of this, and the uncertainty is maddening.

8 years after getting the kanji symbol for 'strength' tattooed on my back, I am only now just learning about what real strength is.

It Comes

I can feel it today... My body asking for the medication it's used to. I've been hot and cold all day, my hands are shaky, and last night, I was only able to sleep for three hours. For no reason at all, my heart rate increases and I suddenly feel that queasy, nervous sensation in my gut. It has been coming and going since I woke up at 12:30 this morning. It's almost easier to be awake at night. The dark seems to welcome me, and somehow, keeps me calm. It's ok to be alone in the wee twilight hours. It's the days that have been the hardest; I am alone with just my thoughts, which don't like to be silenced. Daytime is when most people are out living their lives. Right now, for me, the daytime is just about getting though.

Aaron told his best friend about what is going on, which is so humiliating... I have a messy history with his best friend, and while we are cordial now, there's no love there. Anyway, he told Aaron that he could tell I was drugged up lately. I can't describe how much hearing that comment stung. It just adds to the shame and anger I am dealing with. So many emotions swirl through my head. So many unanswered questions swim around in my brain.

I sit here nervously shaking, wanting to keep typing but not able to express my thoughts because they are so congested and fleeting. It's times like these I wish I believed in god.

Day One

The taper plan has changed. I am now to be off the Valium by Monday. The doctor had originally said two weeks taking one a day, but I got a phone call informing me that I needed to go cold turkey, starting next week. I've been researching online, and I hope this doctor knows what he is doing, because for someone that has been on 2-3 of those suckers a day for over a year, I'm going to be jumping off very quickly. My anxiety is through the roof. I have to force myself to think about other things... We are off to the grocery store to do some much needed shopping, and then a night filled with tv surfing. I am so grateful to have Aaron home, because during the day it's hell. I must find ways to fill my time... I can't live these next weeks and months is constant fear- I have to confront it. And just deal with it.

Aaron and I are set up for a marriage counselor, I'll be seeing my own a lot more often, and I am just going to try and tough out the physical shit and deal with the mental once and for all. I have so much more to say, and will get it out later. I was bursting inside when blogger was down and I couldn't post all day.

Also, a big thank you to the women who have responded in one way or another... Words can't adequately describe my feelings.

This was Day One.

Cursed

There are seven prescription pill bottles on my nightstand. Celexa for depression. Norco and time released Morphine for pain. Zanaflex for muscle spasms. Valium for anxiety and muscle spasms. Lyrica, some expensive medication, for nerve pain. And finally, Ambien for sleep. I loathe each pill.

I just returned from the new consulting doctor, and he is taking me off everything but my antidepressants and sleeping pills. I've cursed each day I've had to wake up and swallow 4 pills at a time, but now, knowing that I won't have that crutch is terrifying me. The doctor says it's too much medicine for a young woman to be on- and I don't disagree with that. The side effects suck and I don't even know how well the medication works anymore. But I am so scared of the withdrawal symptoms that will inevitably come with stopping all medication. I was told point blank that I was going to be very uncomfortable for a while, and that I was just going to have to tough it out. The withdrawal symptoms include nausea, vomiting, increased pain, stomach aches, hot and cold flashes, diarrhea... Basically a flu from hell, with a side of extra pain.

Tough it out?? Don't they know I've been toughing it for almost four years??? I can't stop crying. I am afraid. Does this mean I'm an addict? I didn't ask for these drugs. Not one of them. But now, looking at the future without them causes my heart to beat faster and my palms to sweat. Damn the doctor who has been steadily loading me up on pain medication. It's not him that will have to endure the increase in pain or the days in bed, too sick and sore to move. It's not him that has been in a medicated haze for 2 years. I have lost so much of myself, and now, it's as if I'm being tested to see how much I can reclaim. Who knows how much of what I say and think is just the medication talking???

This can't be my life. It has to be a nightmare and I just haven't woken up yet.

The feelings of isolation loom closely overhead again. I don't know how I am going to get through this. At the time when I need the most support, I have the least.

In need of a big hug and a whole lot of courage.

fragmented stream of conciousness

flip through channels, try to read. cough. can't concentrate. eat. attempt to write, but my thoughts don't come out through the keys. so tired, but can't sleep. cough. neck aches, so i take a pill. wish for a pill that could kick my ass out of this haze. think about calling a friend or family member, but decide against it. no need to spread my negativity. back to flipping channels, nothing is on. cough, cough. the pounding starts from two floors down. it sounds like it's coming from across the hall. sit down at my computer. look for someone online, something to do. try again to write. the hammering is constant. sneeze attack. can't think. head hurts. take a shower. shave my legs. the air is cold. find sweats. wonder what to do. pick up my book. eyelids are heavy. make green tea. think too much. type. cat jumps on the keyboard to get my attention. set her in my lap. she falls asleep. decide to watch a movie and numb my brain. debate internally if i should post this. wonder what on earth people must think and why i care.

On and On

The next four weekends will be filled with nail guns, saws, rap music and a whole lot of noise. The basement has to be finished by the Superbowl- which is just one month away. I am not looking forward to the banging and thumping, but at least Aaron has his dream basement within his grasp. The walls are up and painted, the bar is framed, and the built in tv stand just needs some stain. But the carpet and hardwood need to be installed, the bar needs a sink, cabinets, and wine cooler, the ceiling isn't all up, and the stairwell needs some work. Aaron and his handy friends are going to be in for some late nights. I need to buy some earplugs.

The cloud that has been hovering over me has lifted slightly. I still feel alone, there's no denying that, but the outside world looks a little less daunting. Thursday night, after pushing Aaron away for days, I finally opened up and told him how sad I was. The man is a saint. He gently kept suggesting a dinner out (which is normally my favorite thing to do- I love going out to eat) to which I kept refusing. Finally, something in me said 'put on a fucking hat and some jeans and just go.' Over dinner we had a long talk; he admitted he feels somewhat responsible for my lack of friends because I moved here for him. In no way is it his fault- I have been struggling for most of my life to feel like I belong somewhere. When I moved here, I had nothing back home except an ugly divorce.

But the divorce is ancient history. I have been here for over 5 years and while so much has changed, so much has stayed the same. None of Aaron's friends liked me when I moved here- and it was made very clear. I tried so hard to make them like me, but they saw through my facade. There were fights; verbal and physical. His friends used to bet how long it would be before Aaron sent my crazy ass home. Instead, Aaron and I got closer, and slowly, his friends accepted me as part of his life. Now that we're married, everything is very civil, but there is no warmth.

So it's always been very important that I find my own circle. And I've made quite a few pals along the way. But keeping them has been a far greater challenge. The girlfriends I had 3 or 4 years ago are not the same few friends I have today. One friend got lost in a world of crystal meth, another had a husband who hated me, while another just stopped all contact... It has become disheartening and scary. It's so hard to put my true self into a relationship and then have it suddenly taken away. In some ways, I've hardened my heart, and stopped putting any effort into finding new friendships. But like I have been saying all week, it only contributes to the feelings of isolation.

I am so dependent on others, yet deathly afraid to reach out. I call myself a loner because it's the easy way, sometimes the only way, to get through. Out of the 16 hours a day I am awake, I spend at least 10 alone. When I work, I'm alone at night in a hotel room. I was an only child; and a latchkey kid at that. My social skills are shit. There was a point at the last party I went to, where I had to sneak away and cry, because I had no clue how to talk to anyone. I can't use alcohol as a social lubricant because of my medication. I'm naturally shy in large gatherings. It felt horrible to be hiding, but I really didn't know what else to do. Eventually, my friend came and found me, and coaxed me back to the party. I felt incredibly stupid, but did my best to try and shake it off. However, I spent the rest of the evening silently scolding myself for being so insecure.

And I continue to scold myself, for one reason or another.

This has to stop. I tell myself that I'm just in a rut, and that I will snap out of it. But every day is the same. I am alone, and I'm not very good company. I need to spend my time being productive and meeting new people. But how?? And doing what??

I wake up every morning, hoping that the new day will be better than the day before. So far, I haven't been able to make it happen. This empty, hollowed out feeling just won't shake. I feel so alone. I keep willing the phone to ring, but it never does. I keep telling myself that this won't last, however every second feels like an hour.


Have you seen my smile?
I've lost it, it seems
Maybe it is hiding
Beneath my broken dreams

Have you seen my heart?
I can't feel it anymore
I'd rather see it shatter
On the kitchen floor

Have you heard my teardrops?
I tried to hold them in
Instead, like a thunderstorm
They overcame me again

I'm the queen of holding on
To things that have come and gone
Look into my eyes, and you will see
I'm the queen of misery

I can't reach out; no one's there
I tell myself that I don't care
In truth I know I need a friend
To stand by me until the end

Party Of One

It's as if I'm trapped in a tunnel... Where I can hear voices passing me by, all filled with laughter, and I can't find my way toward the light. I'm not supposed to hole up in the house when I feel this way, and I obeyed the counselor's orders. It's just a shame that I feel worse, mentally, instead of better, after venturing out into the outside world. It was a painful reminder that the relationships I have are too few and far between, and that I am still in a place of confusion and isolation. I want to reach out to the couple of friends that I have, but I don't want them to see this side of me. There's nothing pretty, funny, goofy or sexy about my constant struggle to find lasting happiness.

My stomach bug has given way to some sort of head cold. Another reason I'm so blue, I'm sure. I just want to feel healthy- in both mind and body. I've hardly spoken to Aaron since he's been home from his New Year's trip. We're not fighting, but I won't let him in. I don't want to go over the same bullshit about why I'm 'sad.' He's heard it all before. We go through the motions of conversation, but I just get frustrated at his attempts to make me laugh with his jokes that hit too close to home. So, I let my emotions out secretly, when no one is around. I use my new video camera as a diary and pretend that I'm talking to a best friend who doesn't exist.

Tears are supposed to be cleansing. I find them to be the exact opposite. The tears I cry make me feel ashamed and silly. I could have it worse. So why doesn't that provide me with solace? Why do I isolate myself when I know damned well that I only become more detached and upset? The answer probably has to do with personal boundaries; if I don't let anyone in, there is less risk of getting my feelings hurt or being rejected. But the cycle just continues. Being alone leads to sadness, and sadness leads to being alone... I just don't know if I can trust anyone with my fragile mess of emotions. I have so few friends, it's like, I'd almost rather keep them at a distance so they won't realize what a crazy bitch I am and desert me. What I need the most - a support system - is what I deny myself, because I don't want to be a pain in anyone's ass. Most people have their friends in place at my age. I wish I had that. I wish I knew how to reach out without feeling like a burden. I wish I knew how to make and keep friends, instead of just floating in and out of people's lives. I wish I loved myself enough to trust others with my broken spirit.

Instead, I pour out my soul onto this stupid computer; broadcasting my issues to the world.

This isn't a sign, is it?

I went to bed the night before New Year's Eve feeling sick... Sure enough, I spent the evening and morning with my head hung in the toilet. We had huge plans to go to Indianapolis for the Colts vs Dolphins game, and we were going to ring in 2007 together there. I guess my body had other plans, because I couldn't go. I tried just to feel good enough for the 3 hour drive and make it to the hotel by literally crawling into the shower and sitting on the tiled floor washing my hair then pulling on sweats. I gulped down Pepto like it was Pepsi. But I was in so much pain, and so ill,I could hardly move- much less walk. Finally, I gave up, and submitted to the fact that I was going to be spending New Year's home alone. There was no way I was going to let Aaron miss something he had been excited about for months, and other people were depending on him. So with tears in our eyes, we said good bye.

I spent the day laid up, feeling awful, watching my favorite movies. I didn't want to be up for the big ball drop, and luckily, I was in a deep sleep by 8 pm. When I woke up at 6 this morning, it wasn't until I turned on the tv that I remembered it was 2007. At least I'm feeling semi human today, instead of puking or shitting my guts out... (sorry for any graphic images that may cause) I miss my man, and being sick yesterday kept me from being too upset about the whole thing. But this morning, I cried...a lot. Hopefully it is out of my system so that I can give my husband a huge smile when he walks in the door.

I stepped on the scale today, and was shocked to see that my weight has dropped down to 104lbs; the smallest I've ever been. I'm guessing it's from being sick. Standing naked in front of the mirror, I examined my body, inch by inch... It looks so frail and fragile. Like it could snap in two at any moment. Akin to how I feel. I'm going to assume this whole thing was mere coincidence or bad timing, and not a sign of what is to come.

I haven't even wished anyone a 'Happy New Year' yet...The cats hardly count. So happy '07 to all.