A Confession and My Well Wishes

I have been absent from the Internet for quite some time and thought I owed everyone an apology and an explanation. The piece below is from my soul and I hope you can take it as a not only a confession and a warning but also as me telling you how much I care even at the end of my life.

A Confession and My Well Wishes

 

I live with depression, anxiety, and an addiction to prescription drugs. Oh yes, I am also facing the end of my life. Surprised or troubled by what I just revealed? That’s okay, I believe I can clarify what I just said a little bit.

 

I was abused from birth to my early teens by someone I loved very much so I saw and still see the world as a dangerous place filled with people I cannot trust. Being a loner all my life, it has been a tough journey to admit that I need other people and must learn to trust them.

 

The depression I’ve had since I was six years old shut me into my own little world where I needed no one and they sure as hell didn’t need me. I was in mental anguish so it is not surprising that I abused a painkilling drug. What I did not understand is that this drug was known to cause problems in the liver. So, unknowingly I consumed the pills like they were candy.

 

My problem began fifty years ago when I was given meds for the relief of pain from a dental procedure. I liked the feeling the meds brought me and addiction roared to life. Daily I abused my drugs telling myself it was okay because they were prescribed by a doctor not recognizing or downright ignoring what the pills might be doing to me.

 

My addiction got so bad that I stole painkillers from friends and family. My addiction consumed me as I worked to get my hands on more drugs. I even tried to write my own prescription once. This, as you might expect, didn’t go well with the pharmacy or my doctor who called the police. I was called to go down to the police station over the phone. I knew what I had done. I was terrified as the police told me it was up to the Illinois attorney general to decide if there will be charges filed. I didn’t end up in jail by pure unadulterated luck. I lost my doctor and pharmacy due to my actions.

 

One would think being caught and having the police officers called on me would make me crave sobriety.

 

It didn’t.

 

My brother tried and tried for years to tell me about the damage I was doing to my body, especially my liver, but I could not hear him. I refused to admit to myself that I was destroying the only body I will ever have. Worse, the more I took of the pills the more I needed to take to achieve the same high.

 

Then one day I realized I was sitting with my therapist so high I could barely speak. It was then that I admitted to my therapist that I was misusing prescription drugs. She wasn’t shocked as I feared she might be and instead told me she was proud of me for my admission. The next person I told was my brother who also had an addiction just to a different substances. He was elated and told me he was glad I’d had the epiphany and that I had passed by into sobriety, at least emotionally.

 

Without delay I went off the pills cold turkey and suffered horribly for around two weeks.

 

The withdrawal was horrible as my body adjusted and I craved just one pill to stop the insomnia, chills, feeling I was burning up and my severe mental impairments. My suffering was much more than I can describe. Because of the physical anguish my depression returned and I refused to leave the house even to see my therapist whom I cared for very much for weeks.

 

By the way, I do not recommend that anyone go cold turkey off their substance of choice. Consult your doctor first and consider the idea that you may need to be hospitalized. I should have been.

 

After I regained my senses from the withdrawal, I knew I had to tell my doctors the truth about my drug problem. They also were not surprised and promised me they would never prescribe them to me again.

 

It’s been ten years since I gained sobriety. I wish I could say I lived happily ever after but life isn’t like that. Recently I have been diagnosed with severe liver  cirrhosis and I am going to die. When I learned that I have two years or less to  live, the depression, surprisingly, did not return.

 

Indeed, the depression has not been much of a problem although I find myself feeling anxious sometimes. When I received the diagnosis I was surprised and still do not know what to think or feel about dying. However, I am hoping it is more peaceful than my life has been.

 

Somehow I have learned to take life as it comes (it is what it is) and I try to remember that everyone and everything will die. It feels really funky when I sit still enough to think about a world without me. I often feel overwhelmed but have found peace in my faith and the people who surround me.

 

I am not afraid. In fact I am looking forward to the adventure.

 

Until now I never realized how precious my sobriety is to me. When I hear or see other people who are still living in the chaos of addiction I feel their pain as they seek a peaceful resolution to their life struggles.

 

Life is just too short to spend it carrying regrets or anger. Each day I look for the good in my life and meditate on that. I am sober, I am clean, in the eyes of some people that makes me a superhero of sorts. Obviously, I am not since superheroes do not die.

 

I decided to tell others my story of hope. Some say I should be bitter and angry because I am dying young (I’m 65). To them I say to examine their own life and motivations.

 

Carrying hate toward someone? Let it go. After all, mortality is the one thing that truly binds all humans together so your hate will go unanswered.

 

The intent of writing this piece is to help others who are facing life without their substance of choice. To you I am your cheerleader and I believe in you. Even though I do not know you I can say truthfully that you are loved.

 

Someday I’ll be gone leaving my addiction and depression behind. My hope is that  people will remember any good I have done in this world and can concentrate on how I have ventured to help people, rather than judging me.

 

Writing about dissociative identity disorder has been a passion of mine. I haven’t become a best-selling writer even though I’ve authored several books about DID. That is my only regret because I’d like to reach all who are struggling with dissociative identity disorder and complex post-traumatic disorder and to leave something for my family.

 

Other than that, I am content to face life head-on and record how I feel on my journey.

 

You take it easy and remember, there is at least one person you know who has reached final fusion so it can be done. Yes, you might choose cooperation, co-consciousness, and co-awareness as your goal and that is just fine. I’m wishing you well on your journey.

 

I am not dead yet and I will continue to author articles for you when I am able.

 

Shirley

 

 

 

 

 

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