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I was born addicted from spending my fetal development with a mom on darvocet for arthritic pain (back then it was commonly prescribed during pregnancy) and spent years on and off a phenobarbital medication to help control severe digestive disorder arising from acute withdrawal when I was born. When the doctor stopped filling that script 8 years later, I went through some rough years until I discovered cough syrup with codeine in my preteens and developed a dependency.
Skip a bunch of stuff including alcohol poisoning, 3 packs of cigarettes a day, 2 pots of coffee a day, bags and bags of chocolate, and years upon years of legal medical intoxication via prescriptions, all warranted by insurance as 'necessary'.
By 2014 I was completely clean. Of everything. I had managed to stay clean off all of it, including tylenol, for two years by the time I was commanded in an ER last spring to get back on something for pain control.
Going clean doesn't mean I'm fine.
A couple of years ago I bought the most expensive bottle of brandy I could find, brought it home, took the tiniest sip, poured the rest down the drain, and spent the rest of the day on the couch.
I still miss vicodin. Nearly every day I still want codeine or a derivative thereof. It's been 2 1/2 years since my last one. I don't dare ask for a prescription cough syrup.
I was a medically created, approved, and supplied mild benzo addict for so many years that I developed a condition called protracted withdrawal and will probably be on a very low dose of it the rest of my life. I was approved to go back onto very low dose xanax this year. If I break loose and take more than I'm allowed, I will be put onto head meds and strictly monitored the rest of my life. Between my aspergers, euphoria, depression, and addiction history, I know that if anything ever happens to Scott, a legal guardian will be assigned to me.
My entire life has been about pain and addiction. Every single day of my life is a string of decisions I make to be ok with myself, find something to do, or at the very least just go back to bed. I've got a degree, I've successfully held jobs and raised kids, and I'm surviving chronic illness challenges that destroy people, but every. single. day., I decide to BE here, to BE someone for someone else, to BE glad that I'm still here no matter how sucky my day/week/month/year has been. My job on this earth is to BE a light in the dark, and my delight in this existence is to BE that translator who finds a way to speak for others who can't yet speak for themselves. (I'm using my #oneword2016 thing, lol.)
Several people have reviewed Heidegger's Being and Time. I can't remember now whether I swiped it or the friend who had it gave it to me (I swiped other books, don't know if he noticed), but I got brownie points in a philosophy class for saying I owned it. "Heidegger criticizes the view of the person that we have inherited from the Renaissance and the Scientific Revolution--the view that people are isolated individuals, defined solely by the self-conscious possession of a rational mind--showing especially the crucial role that emotion, other people, and practical know-how play in human experience."
All the dark places I've been. All the reasons I hung on. All the people I love now.
Imagine a person like me going deep into Sherlock. "Alone is what I have, alone protects me." "No. Friends protect people." I'm still learning, and cruelly practicing on friends that I love. This is my public apology. I got bitey, but I'm not burning bridges.
:edit: 1-14-16 This is a good site- Understanding Addiction