To Whom Do I owe this?

I lived perpetually plagued with the question: To whom do I owe this? My mother? My father? My genetic make up? Not knowing used to drive me crazy. I questioned the nature vs nurture arguement continuously. Over and over in my mind. Was there something I had done? or didn't do? To no avail, I pondered mercelessly. All I knew was that something....o.k.; honestly, many things were wrong. My emotions ran wild. Feelings ranging from rapture to perpetual doom plagued me. Something had me paralyzed to move; yet nothing could keep my mind from racing over and over again, quite often contemplating things of no magnitude relentlesly. Never coming to any real conclusion, and battling the feeling to run, invariably, I ran everywhere. Now at the age of 48, I still run. The difference during the later years of my life is that I am runnning to something instead of from something.

Hello. My name is Kim. I am an addict diagnosed with mental illness. This is the first time I have come out publicly online. Sure, I have attended drug and alcohol treatment facilities, multiple stints in detox and hundreds of hours in counselling yet nothing could pepare me for the solution to my problems. You see, the support groups AA and NA speak of a connection with GOD but I had a problem with that. GOD, I wanted nothing to do with. Why would GOD plague me with such problems? So I sat in my seat, listened to people share relating their sobriety to a connection with a higher power. Yet I still felt empty. Sobriety. Would I ever find it? Surely, not for me. You see, I also have the diagnosis's of Bi-Polar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD and chronic anxiety. These mental health issues greatly affected my other ailments of Fibromyalgia, Osteoarthritis and COPD. To my dismay and then later to my relief I found there is a great correlation between my mental, emtional, spiritual and physical health. Nothing new. Thousands of books have been written on the subject. I've read many, yet somehow as I perused the words on the pages, impending doom lurked around the corner saying to me "Sure this may work for them but how can this possibly work for you?" and I was convinced there was no one/no way to help me.

It was at this juncture I thought to myself and decided I had reached the place that people must go within themselves when they contemplate suicide. I debated the topic knowing no way out, convinced no one could truly understand. It is because of my children that my resolve to live won over these dark times. I could not leave my children with the legacy of a mother who committed suicide. I didn't fear death. I welcomed the thought of no more pain. Still, the nagging feeling/thought that maybe there is/was something that I was missing, an answer, a way out, consumed me. Not knowing what it could be and losing any hope I had ever held, I did what I had come to use to numb the pain and plaguing questions that would not leave. Drugs and alcohol. Something that would temporarily take me from my prison. Something, that for a time, lifted me to another rhealm. There, in the place of reality and illusion combined, I contemplated many things. Most of all I didn't want to think at all. So, why now am I doing things that I previously found inconcievable?

Theft, prostitution and intravenous drug use with my oldest son threw me even deeper into the depths of despair. Here, I was convinced I was unsavable. Although I was seeing my psychiatrist regularly and complied with my medication regiment, nothing changed. Medication alterations didn't do anything. You see I was convinced I had hit the lowest of lows; using drugs with my son, and that was unforgivable in my mind. Now I realize I am not alone but the shame was so strong I continued to run. Move after move after move. No amount of moving was working anymore. This left me completely desperate. Four years of univesity and a Bachelor's Degree in Social Work couldn't provide the answers I sought begging the question: How can I help someone else when I cannot even help myself?

Sure there were periods of sobriety, ironically, usually when I attended AA/NA meetings. However, no matter how deep my resolve, no tips or recommendations helped. And then it happened. Completely distraught over the death of my mother and once again under the grip of addiction I stood at the side of the road hitch hiking with my groceries. I had recently been in a seious motor vehicle accident and came inches from losing my life. I stood there praying it wouldn't rain and spoil the food when I had a conscious thought and finally completely handed my life over. As I remember correctly, my conversation in my mind went something like this: "I do not know who or what you are or even that you exist, I refuse to give you a name but I do believe in the capacity of the human heart to be kind and good. I have no idea what you want from me but I promise to start to be the best person I can be one day at a time, one second at a time, and if you would show me a sign, or signs, of what it is that you want from me I will do it". This was only a few months ago but things are starting to transform in my life. I go out of my way to smile, share a kind word, perform a random act of kindness with no reward, tell the truth even when it is uncomfortable and try my best to accept the blows of life with grace. Something had to change for the better so it had mind as well be me. After all it had been three years since I could look myself in the mirror. Still, there edged in a glimmer of hope, something I had not felt for a long time.

Mental health issues and addiction wreaked havoc in my relationships and I had little to no friends but I had met a nice woman from Australia through a support group on Facebook (still looking for answers) and we became pen pals. I wrote to her with no resolve fully and completely opening up to another human being. It was probably easier because it was pen and paper yet there it was: a letter. I caught a cab to the post office promptly before I lost my nerve to send it and to my delight she responded in kind. She too suffers from addiction and mental illness. It seemed I had found a kindred soul. It felt different and gave me a warm feeling in my belly. Homeless, or near it, as I was leaving another no end relationship with an addict/alcohlic, I had a family friend contact me after 10 years of no contact and found out he too was battling alcohlism and addiction and needed to sell his fifth-wheel. He was willing to sell it at a discounted rate which solved both my housing and financial needs amoungst the COVID pandemic. There was a problem or so I thought. My car had broken down and was in repair. I could not leave. More to be cont'd.