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In a previous post, I mentioned that I was sorry for not understanding myself or processing my own issues before trying to take on a role of trying to help others do so. I wanted to write more about that…
Many young women are told they couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be a mother until they give birth to a child and become a “real mother”. To some degree, I understand that. There are certain feelings and emotions that will be released when you meet your baby, true, but it IS possible to understand and empathize with someone who is a mother, without being one yourself. Any parent that’s adopted a child will more clearly be able to write about this stigma and how it’s false, but I use that comparison because that’s kinda how this will be. Even if you’ve never experienced the things I’m describing, I hope you can understand that, when I experienced these things, they were brand new to me. Yes, I was an adult. Yes, I had already been married twice, and given birth to three children. I had a degree and was 2 classes away from finishing my Master’s that I had squished into a 1 year program by taking a full course load while working FT, so in many ways it appeared I had a lot of my shit together. There are a lot of people living like that. They’ve blocked out things, they’ve ignored warning signs, they’ve focused all their time and energy into a million other things, so that there’s always a reason not to process and understand what makes them the way they are. Some people don’t think there’s anything there, like me. I was like, I’m fully aware of my issues and I’m fine… But I wasn’t fully aware, and I wasn't fine.
I already had a predisposition to/interest in psychology as related to advertising/marketing (colors, logos, design aesthetic; this was also part of the content I taught), cultural anthropology, social justice issues in our country and the world, etc…, but when I finally understood or experienced things I had only read about, it was jarring. I was flooded with emotions about how long I had misunderstood, overlooked, criticized, judged, and ignored things that were right in front of me for so long. These paradigm shifts came after I stopped taking the opiates that I had been prescribed for two and a half years.
It’s hard to pinpoint when my back pain really began, because so much weight gain and loss comes with pregnancy. During those early years of having children, I also had several ER trips that resulted in my gallbladder being removed and then a corrective surgery after it was still causing issues (Hello, Dilaudid), so I was constantly in and out of medical appointments, often leaving with opiate prescriptions. These are the same opiates they give new mothers to help them bond with their babies and ease pain, which I really believe gets some women addicted, not only the pills, but also the entire experience of giving birth. More on that another time.
So, there was some medical reason for these pills, is my point. I had scans and diagnoses of degenerative disc disorder, a bulging disc (doctors would ask if I had been in a car accident, but I hadn’t), like, visible evidence of what was causing the physical pain I was experiencing, sometimes to the point of immobilization. I think we are still making payments on an ambulance ride where I couldn’t walk or get myself downstairs. I went to physical therapy in Cuyahoga Falls, Montrose, Green, we tried acupuncture, water therapy, nothing worked except pain pill management. From May-ish 2016 through July 2018, I was on a ‘round the clock regime of Percocet and Advil.
It was so commonplace and I felt like I had a trusted doctor telling me to keep trying new therapies while taking these pills, so that didn't feel like addiction. It felt like a necessary use of a medicine. When I got sick and didn’t realize it was because I had skipped my medicine, I wrote it off as something I had eaten was the issue, but that was actually a symptom of withdrawal.
You may have read somewhere that one of the crimes I confessed to was buying marijuana from a student. True. If you ever met me, you probably didn’t think that one was true because of how adamant I have ALWAYS been against it. I’m talking D.A.R.E poster child, ya’ll. D.A.R.E worked so good on me. I dated someone in high school that smoked a lot and it was often assumed that I did too, but I’m not kidding when I say that the first time I used cannabis was when I was 32 years old and it saved my life.
Within 3 months, I was off the pills, and fully on board with daily cannabis use, typically vapes, typically 90+% THC levels, received from an unnamed source. Apparently, that can build up in your system and for some people, cause psychological issues. It turned out, I was one of those people. Not only was I having daily paradigm shifts about the world, the things I thought I understood suddenly had new meanings, or sometimes I completely made up things that I thought were true, but I was also really happy about it. I went from depressed to hyper active, lethargic to "I think I slept 2 or 3 hours last night", I went from "Everything hurts, always" to "Let’s go on a hike and after that have an impromptu dinner party, it's ok that it's Wednesday, invite everyone!" It was great, because I was off work for the summer and I felt like I had come back to life, until after we got back from our vacation to North Carolina in 2018.
We had an amazing time, lots of fun family memories were made, and it was truly a great experience, but it’s also what gave me a new perspective on what I hadn’t been prioritizing. That time with my husband and children reminded me that they are my whole world and I had to try to come to terms with what I had done and who I had become in the last two and a half years while I had been an opiate addicted Mom-bie.
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