I am no slave to pain (for the most part). Recently, I came to the conclusion that I am, however, a slave to painkillers. I'm addicted, and have been for years. I was finally able to admit this yesterday, after the startling realization that I rarely go a day without them.
I guess it didn't feel like an addiction because there are no recognizable physical symptoms; I don't feel that tension in my wrists and ankles, or the nausea that often accompanied some of my past addictions.
Everyone who knows me well knows that I am never without pills--blue ones, red ones, white ones. I am a non-stop rider of the multicoloured horse. When someone has a headache, they ask me for a cure. I often reply with, "which ones do you want?" I've been an unconscious drug pusher, until now.
Thinking about the possible, and probable, damage that's been done to my liver and other organs makes me feel scared. If Advil hammers the final nail into my coffin, I will be extremely disappointed. That's so lame! If a drug is going to do me in, it should be something more glamorous. I'm like the soccer mom of drug addicts.
Today I will attempt to go without any painkillers. It will be tough as I get migraines in the summer, and have some muscle tension in my back. Part of me wonders whether those feelings are real, or whether my addicted mind created the sensations so that I continue to pump my body full of drugs.
That thought makes me feel weak. I'm an intelligent person. Why didn't I see the signs? I do now. I'm starting to feel my body tense up. It reminds me of that scene in A Nightmare on Elm St III when Freddy confronts that junkie. I think it's time to move away from the computer, and do some breathing exercises. Maybe go for a walk. Maybe I'll empty my purse and rid it of pills, if I can bring myself to do so.
I'm finally doing it--pulling my insides out and splattering them around for all to see. Here we go!