I Wanted To End It Back Then, Happy Today I Did Not.

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This piece is going to take me to uncharted territory. I am going to talk about feelings and realities and fears and hopes and all the yucky stuff in between. I will give warning, though, to those of you that have no feelings, don’t want to have feelings, aren’t real, don’t want to be real; you should probably back away from this piece and run for the hills. For the rest of you please read on and I hope some of you who have ever felt any of these ways any time in your life, well I hope you will take this as it is your time now.

I have awakened in the morning wanting more than anything I have ever wanted, to just die. I went to bed the night before begging you (God) to let me die through the night. I woke angry at you (God) and at my wit’s end as I cried through my coffee and pills and other drugs for an end to be now. My stomach had a knot that was the size of my whole stomach. My head pounded like someone had hit me with a baseball bat. I was shaky and angry and scared and overwhelmed all at the same time. I thought the world and God would be so much better off without me. I felt my family would finally miss me (and yes I said that correct). I felt my husband would finally have to be nice about me and that he would be upset he didn’t get to keep me and be nice and feel guilty forever to my shadow. I thought God didn’t want me because he wouldn’t let me come home. I was so tired of thinking and feeling and not understanding and not being able to fix me or my life. The air would catch in my throat as I stopped breathing without even trying to hold my breath; it just seemed to do it on its own a lot. Even my body was betraying me this morning, like all of my mornings for what seemed like forever. Why was this so hard? Why did even God hate me? Why couldn’t I just go away and die as some had asked of me and I believed others really thought it? There were more tears as I had to shake myself into today’s plan and how to get through this next thirty minutes until the dealer would be up, the drug store open, my Doctor in his office, the liquor store open, and my head just high enough to stop the shakes and tears for just a few minutes.

Then I would realize I had probably lost the job because I forgot to call in sick last night before I started using and trying to quiet the noises in my head of people screaming at me to stop, get a grip, get my shit together, get over it. The people in my head were me and those around me and they didn’t understand. They did not know how much pain I was in both physically and mentally. They did not know I was trying to get my shit together; they did not know that succeeding at dying was me getting my shit together. They did not know how much I hurt and how hard everything was. Making a coffee and taking a handful of pills depleted my energy completely. Trying to find the energy to call my job and see if I could lie my way into keeping it through one more event was just so hard. Brushing my teeth and taking a shower left me in pieces because I did not want to touch me or even look at me. The thought of food going into my mouth left me wanting to puke from my toes up. And now I am crying again because just describing how I was feeling back then rendered me lifeless, but shaking.

I wanted you to know that I was trying to fix me. I was trying to die. That was the fix for me. That was my solution. As I sit here and try writing these words, I feel like I have ants crawling over my body and my skin is starting to walk away from me. I wanted to call you to help me, but I didn’t know how to dial the phone right then and I didn’t have the energy to talk. And, I felt if God’s wasn’t listening to me and understanding, how would I ever get you to understand?

Somehow it is many hours later and I have made it to the shower and brushed my teeth and I have to go and find/make the money for all the stuff I need right now. I am homeless so my prescriptions are paid for, and I have a phone so I can take calls and sleep with some guy to get the rest of the money I need. I will go to the bar and some guy will buy me drinks and tell me not to cry or shake; that he will look after me. When I tell him a story about having to get somewhere and do something for someone, well he gives me cash for a kiss and a promise I will be back later. I leave crying more as I walk down the street knowing I need this pain and hatred of myself to stop. I go to my Doctor with bloodshot and swollen eyes and he believes my pills were stolen and gives me another prescription for more strong narcotics and even stronger sleeping pills. I go to the pharmacy and get them filled. I take the money that guy gave me and put half in my back pocket and the other half in my purse. I go into the next bar and order a drink and throw some of the cash into the vlts. I spin a few and I win. I win enough to call my dealer and head to the liquor store. I walk home and I am shaking from head to toe with both fear and hatred lining my whole body, soul, and mind. All I can think of is that moment when everything is in my system and I will not hurt or hate for only a few moments; but that few moments will seem like a lifetime. There is not thought to tomorrow because I have convinced myself that I will go to sleep and not wake up, once again. I can feel the euphoria wash over me and for just now I can fly and all is great and I am so tired.

I have awakened in the morning wanting more than anything I have ever wanted, to die. I went to bed the night before begging you to let me die through the night. I woke angry at you and at my wit’s end as I cried through my coffee and pills and other drugs for an end to be now. My stomach had a knot that was the size of my whole stomach. My head pounded like someone had hit me with a baseball bat. I was shaky and angry and scared and overwhelmed all at the same time. I thought the world and God would be so much better off without me. I felt my family would finally miss me (and yes I said that correct). I felt my husband would finally have to be nice about me and that he would be upset he didn’t get to keep me and be nice. I thought God didn’t want me because he wouldn’t let me come home. I was so tired of thinking and feeling and not understanding and not being able to fix me or my life. The air would catch in my throat as I stopped breathing without even trying to hold my breath; it just seemed to do it on its own. Even my body was betraying me this morning, like all of my mornings for what seemed like forever. Why was this so hard? Why did even God hate me? Why couldn’t I just go away and die as some had asked of me and I believed others really thought it? There were more tears as I had to shake myself into today’s plan and how to get through this next thirty minutes until the dealer would be up, the drug store open, my Doctor in his office, the liquor store open, and my head just high enough to stop the shakes and tears for just a few minutes. This was just one of the many rituals and plays I performed. Other days and nights would only change the format and names. The end would be the same.

I did not write this for naught. I wrote this for those of you out there who can relate. I wrote this for those of you out there who think no one understands. I wrote this because now you will know someone does understand. This is true and it was my life/death about twenty years ago, about fifteen years ago, and about ten years ago.

That is not my life today. Thanks to a God who held on to me for countless years when I thought he hated me and a death that would not take me; I have not wanted to die for almost nine years. I found recovery and life and peace, over time.

Now I did not write this and share my feelings to bring anyone down or draw attention to the negative. I shared my real feelings and heartfelt truth so that you, the reader out here online, thinking no one understands; well, you are so wrong. I understand, and others understand. You are not the only one feeling these feelings. What I do understand and know today, as well, is that there was a time when I was just so exhausted from trying to die and not succeeding; well one day I allowed God to direct me to a room full of addicts and they were clean and happy, for the most part. Some were struggling, some were in tears, some were happy, and some were laughing. What they all were was grateful. That was the common denominator with them all. They were grateful to be alive and in recovery. I wanted nothing more than to just stop wanting to die; that was all I truly wanted. I got that one thing and then I got so much more and more and more. Today I am one of those people who sometimes struggle’s, sometimes cries, is sometimes happy, and sometimes laughs. Today I am one of those people who is always so grateful to live and be alive.

I am not writing this to tell you any of my journeys have been easy because that would be a lie and today I get to tell the truth. But, the harder I worked in my recovery and the more belief I gained in the rooms, in God, in the process, and in me; well the easier it got to stay clean. And, the more belief I got in me and the more I forgave myself for being and doing the addict; well, the more I wanted to live and stay clean. Every tear I cried in recovery let just one more little piece of the pain I had carried in active addiction wash away until there was nothing but forgiveness left in the place of that pain.

I am not here to tell you anything. I am sharing my story and how I got to be here today, alive and comfortable in my skin. I am here to share how I wanted to die and then stopped wanting to die. I am here because I want my story to include the honest of my life and how I felt about me. And today, how I feel about me is game-changing. I love me and respect me and do what I know is right the right next thing for me in my life. I absolutely get every day to do what I need to do and be who I want to be, all for me.

If you are reading this, I hope you felt something in your heart and soul with every paragraph, every word I am writing. If you are reading this, I hope you understand how hard life can be sometimes for long periods of time. I also hope you can feel how hard I worked to change that in me and change my life to feel the way I do today and that this can be part of your story to share, as well.

I am here at the end of today’s piece with tears running down my face as I both remember how that all felt then and how different I feel today.

If you enjoyed the read, please like, follow, share and comment if the mood so moves you. I would also ask one more thing of you today. If this has helped you in your life, then that is great. If you know someone it may help, then please share or forward along to them. We all deserve to stop wanting to die. We all deserve to heal the pains. We all deserve to live and want to live.

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About the author: Maureen Everick

I am 54 years old or young depending on the weather, my body, home, Google, the moon, my husband, and many other details in my life. I have a great job as a Registration Clerk for Blood Collection; but still want to win the lotto and retire now. I am a recovering addict and recently (in December) celebrated six years clean. I truly know how grateful I am to be alive and how much loyalty and honesty and positivity mean to me. And yes, positivity is a word. I checked with me. Thank you for coming to my blog and sharing my life with me through the positive to the funny to the shake your head 'seriously' moments. If I post anything that makes any part of your day better; even a moment; I am grateful for that. In this world today any reason to smile or laugh is positive.

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