The same dream or memory I’ve had so many times before woke me again tonight, a girl and I, when we were maybe 12 years old, I can’t remember her name for the life of me but I remember we were friends right before my mom sent my brother away to live with other people.  I remember I spent the night at her house we, of course, stayed up late, drank some soda, snuck out of the house after her parents went to sleep, we walked down to the Walgreens and bought stuff to do our nails and more sugary snacks went home and called boys on the phone and if we were lucky in those days it wasn’t stuck to a wall in a communal area of the house, as you try to whisper just as softly and loudly as you could to the person on the other end of the phone line because it was always located right outside the parents bedroom and you know that wasn’t on accident.  The positions I would get into the whole time I was on the phone, my dad would laugh at me shaking his head as he walked away like I get it I would if I could.  Her and I had a blast what I remember, but honestly in those days I was just happy not to be at home and sadly for reasons I can’t completely remember you see my brothers and my childhood wasn’t the best and my mind decided to protect me and it hid those memories from me as I got older.  The holes in my memory that are really bad when my opioid addiction was at it’s highest, so I decided to follow some of the training I have and started journaling and maybe it can help come to terms with some of my demons.

So here I am in bed with the light turned way down on my pad it’s 2:43 am and I woke up from the same dream I’ve had 20 times it’s that night I spent over at her house I believe her and I worked together we sold candy door to door said we were trying to earn a scholarship but it was pure child labor crooked thing we knew it but it paid us a dollar every time we sold a box of candy and that was ok money for a 12-year-old and I usually lifted a box of nut clusters ah the days before an eating disorder, how we survived our childhood I don’t honestly know.  So far all I’ve been able to remember, we did our nails, makeup and hair because it was the big hair days the bigger the better.  We snuck out for maybe an hour and talked to some boys on the phone but other then that I don’t remember anything else that night, the next morning I don’t remember going home but my friend and I got sick like stomach flu sick but it was painful, I remember my mom got a call from the girls mother and the daughter tested positive for Spinal Meningitis and that because I had been sick and exposed my mom rushed me to the ER where I thought for sure they were killing me, back in those days I don’t remember insurance being an available thing, but it might have been my mother again wasn’t very maternal, it was always the county hospital where they’re like 50 years behind then literally anyplace else at least then and honestly my mom wasn’t the whole I don’t know material.

The Doctors asked some questions and then told me there was really only 2 ways to do a spinal tap and that was for me to lay in a fetal position and hold really still because if I move he could accidentally paralyze me from the waist down, I’m paraphrasing of course, doctors can be like lawyers you can’t understand a damn thing coming out of their mouth sometimes, or I can lay in the fetal position and the two men nurse would hold me down and he would do it, so of course my option was held down and done however it wasn’t an actual choice, the first catheter or something didn’t set and the doctor had to do it twice.  That was hell and I remember my back was sore for a week or two after, they did a few other tests but were almost positive that I had spinal meningitis because the girl I spent the night with and I got sick at the same time.  The doctors started an antibiotic in the IV I think they even gave me Demerol for the pain, about 12 hours later or what seemed like it now, it’s still hazy the test came back negative for spinal meningitis, however, the diagnosis was confusing, the doctors said I suffered from sympathy pain.  When my friend became so violently ill my emotions or heart hurt so badly for her that it manifested all the same symptoms in me and the pain I was feeling was as real as hers was that tested positive for spinal meningitis.  I was released to go home without any further explanation that I can remember I never saw that girl again like I said my mom sent us away,  I’ve only ever thought of that girl one other time and it was about a year after the incident.  I had only lived in Washington about a year and I turned into a very shy, sad, quiet kid…  I was in 8th grade and the only reason why I can remember that is because of my class picture, the 1 material thing my mother kinda did took a few pictures and kept them, not a lot I have 3 baby pictures total.  That day, the only other time I ever really thought of her I will never forget, it was the day I escaped one hell, complete with writing 3 complete identical statements for the police, what felt like a million interviews with the police and doctors, and my brain closed the door on those memories.  Which is oddly that abrupt, I was on a plane to Arizona a few days later, I think, I hate saying I think behind everything I write but most of my memories are focused around a single event, I have to refer to other details in the

memory then try to remember slowly building on the memory over time.

I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that I can’t remember my past, but I know I don’t like that the memories are coming back in my dreams and they are so fragmented you don’t know what’s real or not.  If you can’t remember your past are you truly destined to repeat it?  Am I supposed to be learning something? Fixing something?  Am I missing something?  I used to ask about the dreams when my parents were alive, then I started asking my brother, I’m afraid to do that anymore I’m afraid to know anymore and honestly, I think my brother is afraid to tell me.  Now I sit in a dark room staring at a white screen while trying to type quietly in the dark and remember as much detail about the dream as possible so maybe I can put this memory to rest.  I try focusing on the background of the dream, where was I? what was I doing?  what were others around me doing?  Was it daytime \ night time 1 or multiple times?  Oddly was I trying to be sneaky in the dream ever? I tend to get a little more memory then, at times I was trying to sneak around I was paying really close attention to what I did, and I was pretty good at it at times, I was usually sneaking around trying to get my brother back for something he did to me, my brother was my best friend and worst enemy, when children suffer years of abuse and torture by a parent we are quick to latch on to that safe place or safe person, no matter what nobody beat up my brothers sister except him, lol.

The more of the dream I can remember the better chance I have at figuring out why my brain is showing me these things and normally I’ll move on to another dream or memory.  This is my entire life, gaps in memory, times that there are not enough spoons in the world to get out of bed, spoons is the relly cool way to describe how your feeling times I’ve prayed for death and life but I keep moving, I keep remembering.  I’ve met some of the coolest people in the world thanks to social media, I’ve met the coolest celebrities and the rudest, I’ve developed weird habits and broke heavy addictions, I’ve had great romances that I can’t remember anymore.

Once I forget it all, all the memory of me, who am I? Do I exist any longer? Some of my fear is that I’m forgetting doctors appointments, or forgetting to arrange an uber, because I have to do it in advance days in advance, and I’m mentally drained or honestly I’m tired of seeing the look in the doctors eyes when not only can they not fully explain what’s wrong with me but they know it’s painful and now with the “opioid epidemic”, their hands are tied.  I have literally thrown a hissy fit and stopped going to the doctors not because I feel better but because I am sick of hearing “I know but”, If I hear another “I know but” I know you have a very painful disease they don’t call Insecticidal cystitis the painful bladder disease because it tickles, It feels, all the time like my bladder is full of acid slowly sizzling at the tissue of the bladder wall, the urethra slowly but very sharply starts to twitch, now depending on how many of those little twitches you get and their intensity will predict the outcome of the actual spams to follow, I, however, didn’t come up with the spoons analygy but it’s perfect  I have made my own way to chart the episodes to hopefully start understanding what exactly causes or triggers an episode and maybe avoid them all together, as of now we’ve had no luck, my body hates me for something I did or maybe I killed someone in a previous life IDK, but if I did I’m sorry, but I can’t handle much more.

It’s sad I truly understand the doctor’s point of view, it’s a witch hunt right now, they are stuck looking us the patients and by “they” I mean good doctors, in the eyes, know we are suffering but there really isn’t much they can do to help us and they have to watch us cry because of the pain, they have heard us beg them to just end the suffering but they can’t help us, in one aspect giving us the pain medication helps our quality of life but it seriously hurts our quality of life as well.  The addiction that goes along with chronic pain and illness is a hell of its own on one hand you can get some of the pain seriously diminished with narcotics, and it amplifies the pain when you don’t have any pain medicine, it’s a doubled edged sword.

If I hadn’t have listened to friends and family on the cannabis issue I would be dead today.  I was done with the pain and the addiction, but if I hadn’t tried cannabis for myself and I was blindly facing this opioid epidemic that so many people are facing I would as so many others have taken my exit plan.  I’m not super religious and I can honestly say I’m no longer afraid of death, my kids are grown and I’ts been an interesting journey this far, any patient that has dealt with as many years of crap as I’ve had we have an exit plan, it’s usually quiet, painless, clean, and oh ya very permanent.  No, I’m not saying I’m suicidal or have a death wish, all I’m saying is when the time comes I will go out on my own terms.


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