Send your Pain Pills Here...

In December 2003, right before I was scheduled to go to Amarillo, I fell down the stairs in my home. Now that I think back on the entire situation, I'm not sure that I fell and didn't throw myself down the stairs in a lame attempt to end it all. I wasn't happy with my current living arrangements and thought this might be my way out of it...please take note that this form of thinking was heavily due to the amount of Jagermeister consumed that night. I was drunk and depressed...going to a place I'd never been to before with someone that I barely knew and damn sure didn't know how he felt about me. (To this day, I don't know how he actually felt about me. Now that it's over, all I feel is used and abused. Thanks, Mr. G) Living with an ex and his wife was very difficult for me. Since I'd only heard his side of their story I didn't know what to make of the whole situation...how can you get so far into prescription drugs that you lose custody of your children? Why was I so kind-hearted that I let them into my home knowing what I did about the both of them and what a volatile situation I had put myself into? Why couldn't I tell him and his wife to get lost and get out of my life? Why can't I be a cold-hearted bitch when it came to "him"? Why do men (it seems to me) line up to treat me like a piece of shit and leave me feeling sick inside and wondering what the fuck is so wrong with me that I can't be loved? I'd tried time and time again to be mean to him...to be cold-hearted to him...to tune him out and put him out of my world with no luck. He always came back around when he knew I'd cooled off and would love him again and of course, I always did. At least he went to his grave knowing that I still loved him and always will...
Now here I am wishing for prescription drugs because of the injuries which I inflicted on myself by throwing myself down the stairs. The doctor doesn't seem to feel that I need pain medication for the compressed discs in my neck, the pain in my shoulder and my arm and to sleep. I haven't slept soundly in days and days...Does the doctor seriously think that I'm only there for drugs? Why do I cry when I'm in physical therapy if it doesn't hurt me? Do I seriously look like a druggie? I'm in pain...more pain than anyone I know will ever realize...