Prescription for a Life Less Lived

                                                Photo by Yannis Papanastasopoulos on Unsplash

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2017 Reflections ... .


I am a strong, powerful woman with a small potato. I remind myself of that because, in a land not so far away (SoCal) in another time, I was a small, weak woman with no potato (potato being a metaphor for life if you're playing along at home). Here's how my unraveling went: 

1. I was ill, physically and mentally, and was prescribed an anti-psychotic drug.
2. That drug stopped working over time.
3. I became ill again—scary-ill, thorazine-ill, padded-room ill. 
4. My classes became overwhelming. 
5. I quit my internship. 
6. I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, so I followed the diagnosis, barely leaving the couch, always exhausted. The couch and I lived on, symbiotic-like, for many years.
7. My doctor prescribed codeine for my pain. 
8. As an addict (with years of sobriety under my belt), I could not have been happier. 
9. I was also relieved, albeit temporarily, from my chronically miserable life, courtesy of Big Pharma and Dr. Enabler. 
10. Recognizing this setback for what it was, a reprieve, yes, but also a grave beginning of the end. I redefined rock bottom, again, as a living death. 

And yet, I would be revived to see another day.