Father’s Day

Wow, I had no idea what I was going to write about until I wrote the title to name the document.

Fathers day.

Father’s Day 2009: Broke my heart, began my awakening, changed my life forever.

I need to respect the victim. So, I will not delve in to particulars. Those who were involved know who they are. The victim does not need to be victimized any further.

It took me 3 months to get myself off of the medications that my doctors had me on that had kidnapped my mobility and my mind. 

Fentanyl 100mg, brand name Duragesic, was the primary prescription. Then there were the additional meds just for the side effects of a narcotic that was 100 times stronger than morphine. Anti-depressants, anti-nauseants, anti-constipation meds….etc.


I went off of the fenantyl cold turkey; nearly dying, due to the fact that my husband repeatedly told me that he couldn’t handle his own medications long enough for me to go to rehab and do it right. When I repeated what he said to the doctors in the ER, I was viewed as a junkie making excuses.

During the 3 weeks that it took for the primary withdrawals (symptoms and pain I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy), I was in the ER 3 times. 2 times by ambulance. 

It was a facebook friend who called 911. My husband, in the other room, didn’t care enough to check on me to make sure that I was alright I am not certain what was in his mind at the time, but he didn’t appear interested in my well being, or what withdrawal from a medication as strong as fentanyl can be. It can very often be fatal.


I had been first prescribed Duragesic on the Fall of 2002. I had lost my job only a month before I lost my “abilities”. Isn’t that what “dis-abled” means? My physician informed me that during the walk that I had taken with my family at the end of August (on fairly level ground, no more than a mile or so), was enough “gravity” to pull my bladder down once again. That was supposed to explain my pain. Truth be told, the initial injuries to that part of my body were made my my father when I was only an infant.

 In the months that followed, I had another bladder surgery, but that surgery left the two major nerves that pass over my pubic bone chronically inflamed. I was in agony.

The next five years were spent MAINLY in bed, on Fentanyl (it was at 100 mcg for over 20 months, only keeping withdrawals at bay.  That medication’s effectiveness against pain always diminished within 3 months of a dosage change) and Percocet.

Then I started smoking marijuana for breakthrough pain.
My husband at the time did not approve. I smoked in “our” room. My bed, which in fact, WAS my home, was where I was “allowed” to smoke. If I did it when we were out, I had to take a walk around a building and hide. Even after I became “legal” with my medical card.

After I recovered from withdrawals (this took a few months), we began moving into a larger trailer, a double wide that we had decided to purchase from our neighbors.  Neither my husband or I were in physical condition to move, even across the street, but I treasured the long nights I chose to spend painting the walls of the new house with the music loud, only to feel like I was truly alone. It was a good feeling. This scared me.

After my husband and I moved into the new house, I was still unable to find my “place” in the house, other than in my bed. I didn’t want to be in bed any longer, and the more I used marijuana for my pain and depression, the better I felt. I was no longer on any other prescriptions. I physically felt better than I had in years. However, every time my husband would lay down next to me, I prayed every night that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning.

After I met my best friend in early March 2010, I found that wanted to wake up the next morning. When I discovered that feeling, it shocked me. Had I REALLY given up on life for that many months?! 

I remember walking away, leaving my husband, the day after Father’s Day 2009. He txt’d me that he was having chest pains, so I returned. I never returned emotionally. On March 20, 2010, I finally left physically. It was the first day of the rest of my life.


I have never looked back since. Not to that man, that life, or that house. I left everything behind. He did what any hurt man would do – he attempted to hurt me with my “stuff,” so I chose to let ALL my stuff go. That has been very difficult. 


My challenges I have made public, I know no other way to be. I seek to share my trials in the hopes that others will know they are not alone. Alone is a very sad feeling. Love and Light to all.












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