I am so not me. This thing that I’ve become, that my body has become, this is NOT me! And I’ve just discovered I’m really angry about that!
Have to give it to the Methadone – yeah, it was great at blocking the pain. Methadone is used in chronic pain patients because it does not make you high like other narcotics. But what I do think it did do was make me numb… and numb-er… to the state of my life, my lack of a life, my nonexistent quality of life.
Now I’m almost free of it, the Methadone – and in withdrawal from dropping it from 5mg to 2.5mg a day. Given I was at 50mg you’d think there wouldn’t be much withdrawal but there is. And withdrawal always means raging emotions.
Mostly, there’s anger.
My mom has always said I’ve complained less than anyone else would about being chronically ill. Maybe that’s true. Maybe because I was numb.
I never thought it would last this long. I got sick in Dec. 1998. Do the math.
It’s eaten up, this illness has eaten, devoured, almost 12 years of my life.
Gone. Life, real life, stopped when I got sick.
This is me, the real me:
And this one, this one is really, really me – my fav pic ever. I had just finished racing bareback across the pasture several times with my beloved Standardbred mare, Cherokee. One of the happiest moments of my life:
I used to be strong. I rode horses, could lift a bale of hay with ease, carry 40# bags of dog food up a crazy steep hill to the house, hike or ski or ride for hours…
But this me I am now, always worried about the weather causing migraines, or being too tired to make it through an entire grocery run, my back hurting too bad to even sweep the floor, never able to make plans because I never know how I’ll feel on a given day…
This is most assuredly not me.