Good Morning Friends..... and thanks again for the post... Robert, Melinda, Linda, freshstart, Kathleen5, Freedom4me and everyone... you are all so great! But Good Googly Moogly Charlie Brown.... this has been one of the longest weeks of my life !!
I have done a little soul searching this morning.... and some writing I would like to share. I warned you I am a little wordy.... so forgive the length... I get carried away. I know anonymity is what we all seek to have during this period of attempting to recover from our addiction and find ourselves once again..... a place to go where no one really knows us.... but knows the pain.... a place to feel the shame without the judgement, ...... a place of escape from our secret hell, unidentified.... but not alone. I know this feeling well.... and I would like to share a little more about my life with some new friends. God Bless you all..... PP
"Just Me"
On this day... the seventh day of my freedom from addiction to
hydrocodone I have made a startling new discovery about myself. For fifty one years, over one half of a century in time, I have been this person..... me. As I stare at my reflection in the mirror on this bright and victorious morning, at first glance, I was caught unaware by the stranger, whose eyes peered curiously back at me. I was taken back by these few fleeting seconds of self disorientation and sudden paradox of thought.
Why would I ever question who am I ? This was very unfamiliar ground. My mind pondered as to its meaning, and small increments of my life started to flash through my brain as I began to search for answers.
My childhood memories stood out as being quite normal. I was a happy, healthy little girl, not scarred or traumatized by any deep, dark family secrets. I had two pretty awesome brothers, one older, and one younger. My parents were wonderful, supportive, loving, and not divorced. My happy, normal childhood was also blessed with having a large and very close extended family. I enjoyed holidays and frequent visits with both sets of my Grandparents, and was lucky enough to still have them well into my adulthood. My Daddy had six brothers and sisters, and my Mother had five. The majority of them lived near by, and I had dozens of cousins of all ages.
I was a little bit of a rebellious and difficult teenager. Nothing too serious, just the typical "I am way smarter than my parents!" hormonally induced teenage attitude. With hind sight always being the supreme judge of fore sight..... and me being.... well... me...... it took a few years, and some hard life's lessons before I realized that my parents, even with their limited formal educations, were not so unintelligent when it came to the facts of life.
In spite of their words of wisdom and protest, at seventeen years old, I left home and got married. I could not understand why my parents were so judgmental of my husband. He was my childhood sweetheart, we dated all through high school, and they knew what a hard life he had growing up. His parents were alcoholics, abusive to him and his brothers, and to each other. I loved him with all my heart and soul. He was good looking, funny, charming, sexy and wild as a buck.
I was loving my new life of freedom, no curfews, no rules, no chores and no parents! We partied everyday.... all day and into the late night, experimented with all the popular drugs of the 70s, and listened to rock and roll music as loud, and as long as we wanted. Life was grand... and it was MINE!!
Around six months into our marriage is when the abuse started. Harsh words, and total control of everything I did soon turned to jealous rages, and frequent beatings. I tried to hide black eyes, busted lips, and bruises with makeup, but the injury to my spirit and the scars left on my soul weighed heavy, and was visible to everyone around me. I began to loose weight, miss work frequently, and was an emotional wreck.
Shortly before our third wedding anniversary I discovered I was pregnant. Knowing that I didn't want to raise a child in this environment, I swallowed what little pride I had left, summoned my remaining strength, courage and will power and went to my parents for help. They graciously took me in, supported me through a very hard divorce, and never once said "I told you so." On Christmas Eve 1978 I gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby boy. I stayed with my parents through my recovery, until I was able to go back to work and get my own place. In my spare time of working and being a single parent I went to college and earned a degree in nursing.
At twenty-two I married my second husband, and life again was happy. I was thriving well with the fast paced, daily balancing act, in the role of mother, wife, and career woman. The years flew by from there. Where they went, I don't know. My life, in a nut shell, had been mostly good. Taking a closer look would soon unearth the finer details in my dilemma of identify with self.
My thirties were a time of great personal loss and sadness. My younger brother, with whom I was extremely close to, was killed in an automobile accident ... he was just twenty nine years old. Five months later my Daddy died suddenly, and my last remaining Grandparent passed away three years after that. The heart ache and grief of such tremendous loss was followed by a small beam of light that was shed, when at thirty-nine I was blessed with my first Grandchild... a baby girl...... Siara Rose.
I was married to my second husband for eighteen years. Our marriage had been a little rocky for the last five years due to his introduction and great love affair with crystal meth. I was still very much in love with him, and trying desperately to get him to quit. When I discovered that he was also cheating on me with a very close friend of mine it was over whelming, and too much for me to handle. We were divorced shorted after I turned forty years old.
From there my life took a series of highs and lows... a second Grand daughter... Savana Raines, was born, I finished my BSN degree and was given a great promotion at work, and had finally mustered up the courage to jump off into the dating world again. During this period my mother passed away, as well as several of my beloved Aunts and Uncles, and two of my cousins. At forty-six I was dealt the most crushing and devastating blow of my life .... my son... just twenty five years old.... my only child..... was tragically killed in a car crash. Surviving these last four years, five months and 22 days has been a struggle at times.... getting through day by day, and often hour by hour.
I have been a nurse for over twenty-five years. I am thankful to God for the opportunity to work in this noble profession, and to be able to support myself financially. At fifty one years old, I am tired, and I am ready for a change. Writing has always been my passion, but with a marriage, raising a family, and just living day to day it was put on the back burner for a long time. With the death of my son I reevaluated my life, and my passion for writing was back with a vengeance. My head was so full of words I couldn't get them on paper fast enough. Poetry, song lyrics and short stories literally dripped from my pores. My broken heart was lashing out desperately for something to grasp.. a strong hold.. a safe place to mend. One word, one line at a time I slowly started to live again. I miss my son, and the others who have left my life more than words can express. It has been almost five years now, and my head is still full of words, but with the writing came a peace and calmness in my soul.
Now I ask myself who am I ? Basically, on the surface, I am your average, East Texas small town country girl. I live in a little frame house on fifteen acres. I love animals, working in my yard, and sitting out by a fire at night looking at the stars. I drive a pick up truck.. Ford to be exact. I listen to classic rock and roll, and Christian music.. Lynyrd Skynyrd, Meatloaf, ZZ Topp, Eagles, Black Crowes, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Bob Seager, Jars of Clay, Stephen Curtis Chapman, Cast In Crowns, Rich Mullins, Third Day and Twyla Paris being some of my favorites. Mexican or Chinese food restaurants are where I would say there is good food, but a cheeseburger and fries at the Sonic is good too. I like movies with strong characters, a good plot, and happy endings. I don't do scary or porn..eeek! I usually apply the same rules to the books I read, but since my brain is dependent on reading for survival, I will compromise if I have to. The back of a cereal box can be very interesting if you have nothing else to read.
The depth of my character I attribute, and can be defined by my experiences over these fifty one years of living. First and foremost I believe in God, and give Him the praise for all the good people and things in my life. My parents were the wisest and most forgiving and compassionate people I was ever lucky enough to know. I would like to find a wonderful Christian man and get married again someday. I still believe in true love and happily ever after, but do not depend on it to define who I am, or to make me whole. I miss my loved ones that are not here anymore, but cherish their memories. I see my son's face everyday in my two precious grand daughters, and know how proud he would be of them. I write from my soul, and try diligently to improve and perfect this gift, in hopes that some of my words will live on, long after I have left this Earth.
Who am I ? By definition..... the product of the choices I have made, molded by the lessons learned, hardened and softened at the same time by the wicked twists of fate and tragedy, wiser with the miles of my age, and a survivor, still viable, hopeful, and joyously optimistic on my journey through life. Who am I really? No one special..... just me.
Who Am I ??? 
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