The Promise

When I was in high school, I suffered from an eating disorder. I felt emotionally bankrupt from a variety of things, not the least of which was from being sexually molested by a man who I babysat for and the fear of being raped because of his advances. I didn't tell my family for three years, as I loved the kids and wife so much, I was afraid I wouldn't be allowed to return once my parents found out.  

I had no control over the situation, so I chose to control the one thing I could, which was my diet. I starved myself, and then if I did eat, I would make myself purge. I wanted to feel as empty physically as I did emotionally, so I abused my body and let it atrophy in the face of my heartache. 

My family never knew until several weeks before I went away to college, when I told my mom over lunch what I had been doing. She almost kept me from going to school, but I promised her that I would never purge again, and she cautiously agreed to allow me to go forward with my college plans.

My first week at Miami University, I found myself hovering over a toilet, having purged the cereal I ate for dinner. I ate cereal for all of my meals to restrict my calories. Anyway, with eyes watering from my violent liquidation of food, I stared at the bathroom floor tiles, thinking to myself, “You couldn’t even keep the simplest promise to your mother.” 

I knew in that moment that I had a serious problem, and the next day I sought help through campus counseling. I began intensive therapy with a graduate student, one of the best counselors I’ve ever had, and she helped me come to terms with the reality of my issue. I had to finally cope with the pain after years of sexual abuse and actually FEEL the emotions I had refused to confront for so long. Between a support group and counseling, I finally learned how to process my emotions without taking it out on my body. 

I no longer needed or wanted to make my body the same emptiness I had felt in my spirit, which was finally on the mend. It was a turbulent time, but I learned so much about myself and the nature of pain. I never dreamed that I would reach a similar point many years later, but I did with the onset of my disease.

When I initially got sick at 22 with first gallbladder disease, and then chronic pancreatitis, my body felt physically bankrupt, and my spirit felt the same.  When your body is stripped of all strength by the intensity of chronic pain, and the pain has stolen everything you have, it feels like a form of starvation. No matter how many specialists whose expertise I sought, they couldn’t fix me, so they fed me pills. Those opioids were like comfort food to my suffering body and mind.  When you’re starving and you’re offered food, you eat; sometimes to excess without realizing it, because it hurts so badly. 

As the disease got worse, the same amount of food wasn’t filling me up, so the doctors fed me more. And suddenly I found myself stuffed to the gills, but the hurt continued. No amount of “comfort food” would help, because my tolerance for it has gone up with time.  And finally I just couldn’t eat anymore without getting sick, my mind and body dependent on substances I never imagined being a part of your life.

I found myself back at the beginning, emotionally and physically bankrupt.  To continue to eat would have meant compromising me; mind, body and spirit.  I had become so tired of eating and still hurting that I put myself on a crash opioid diet. The point had come where my pain wasn’t being touched by the drugs, and my spirit was crashing. Instead of letting myself fall even lower, I stopped my opioids to save my soul. And now that I’ve thundered through my withdrawal date, I find myself with no appetite for the agonizing numbness of chronic opioid use. 

To be clear, not everyone on opioids gets to the point I did. Many chronic pain sufferers NEED their pain meds to allow them to work and function. For me, the opioids had the opposite effect, and my life has been void of any real purpose for almost nineteen years. I am looking forward to getting back to life now that I have a clear head and my body back under my own direction.  I dare not say control, because I don’t know if we can ever truly have complete physical or emotional control over ourselves. Some things are left to God and the Universe.

Without the opioids, I’m feeling more like the Jessica I found on the beach.  The fire and feistiness have returned full-force, and I actually have to rein her in a bit, as her passion tends to bubble or even boil over rather quickly. My pain may have returned to a degree, but it’s less now that I’m learning other ways to satisfy it. The comfort food I was offered for so many years just didn’t help anymore, and so I had to make the decision to help myself. And ironically, the pain is less now that I’m awake enough to soothe it with other lullabies, singing to it softly without the drugs. My life is better, and I am grateful.

Until recently, I never realized the correlation between my eating disorder and my opioid use for chronic pain. With my eating disorder, I literally wanted to disappear and no longer feel the pain of this life. With my chronic pain, all I wanted to do was disappear from the reality of the agonizing hurt. After so many years, I became emotionally inclined to take my life, because I couldn’t imagine living like I was anymore, a physical and emotional vegetable. There are so many similarities. Many people don’t understand the dynamics of the two. Eating disorders are all about control. With chronic pain and opioid use, it’s all about what’s controlling you.

My desire with my blog is to draw pictures with my words to help other understand the plight of the pained better than is currently understood.  Those with chronic pain did not cause the opioid crisis, but they are being punished by the crackdown on policy. I’m just so thankful to have found a way out of MY crisis, and to have found the courage to face my pain, even if it is unpleasant. It’s that strength that drives me forward, and I look forward to finding even more ways to soothe the pain so that I can return to a productive life. 

I go back to the promise I made my mother before I went to college. In essence, it was about no longer hurting myself.  Ultimately, that is why I stopped my narcotics. They were hurting me, and I was on the brink of hurting myself even more. Thank God for the strength and understanding to pull myself from that ledge, and to be able to stand strong before you as the TRUE Jessica once again, now opioid-free.

CHECK OUT Tracy Chapman's "The Promise".....

https://youtu.be/XcfswBZpSBU