Like Stones on My Chest

I had a friend who died last year. She used to say our troubles lie on us like stones on our chest. Just when we hope to take a breath in, the weight of our burdens crush our ability to get out from under our problems.

I try to keep my life simple. The reality is I am in a constant state of nervous energy. At first I thought all the years of drugs made me different. Not true. I ate away my feelings. I numbed all the frayed edges. Many days, I am one step away from losing my mind. I am not adverse to admitting my flaws. Holding together a family, a job, and being one hundred percent sober is a challenge.

Many of my readers ask me if I do any sort of substances. The answer is simply no. I cannot drink. It sets off immediate cravings for drugs like a cascade effect. I do not take any type of medication unless absolutely necessary. It is too easy for me to reach for a pill. The feeling is a familiar one, like a comfortable pair of pajamas. The problem is when I put those pajamas on, I never leave the house. I stop interacting with the world. Honestly, opiates and benzodiazepines make me depressed and feel sorry for myself. My problems become like the stones on my chest.
Posting the pictures of my scars was easy because you already know my pain. You know about the burden of addiction. My joy in recovery is harder to put into words. It is a stillness. It is a satisfaction. It is the knowledge that I am not going to demean myself for something that may not even may me feel better. I am safe and I am reasonably sane. I can accept love from others. The burden is lifted.

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