Sunshine and Frost

This morning I awoke to frost on my car. This may seem like no big deal however when you are on your way to the ER and your heart is pounding and you don't have an ice scraper it's kind of annoying. I was treated terribly upon discharge of the hospital. In all honesty, I should not have been discharged. Unfortunately the hospital labled me wrongfully as a drug dependent/seeker. This label started 10 years ago- more now- when I was still a minor. When I still thought that being touched in sensitive areas by your own mother was normal. I was 22 when I started to understand mommy shouldn't be touching me in my feminine areas. I lost my virginity to her. My mother is an alcoholic. My sibling and I will not even drink socially because it reminds us of our mother. I got labeled a drug addict at age 15 when I abused with heroin as my mother says. That is not the case. I had been hurt by her and was given vicodin that my mother found and took before I could even take it. I couldn't go to the doctor because my mother would have known (she payed all my bills until age 23- she still pays some). My mother never wanted me to go to the doctor unless she was there. I couldn't even cross the street without her. I couldn't even sleep alone until I was 13 and my dad said I MUST have my own bed. So many bad things happened in that bed. I never thought that I was scared. Fear was something that felt so normal that I didn't give a second thought to it. I just tried to survive her beatings, molestation and well other very bad things. So long story short my mother went to the ER with me or would call them and she, as third party information, would tell them that she was so worried about me using drugs. This led to doctors writing about it. Even though I never "failed" a toxicology screening, I was a drug addict because I bought vicodin when I was 15. My mother changed the story and I went along with her after a number of years because the punishment was far worse. Now, I am very sick and sometimes so in so much physical pain that I cannot push through and I cannot even stand. I can't talk. I can't breath because my stomach may hurt. However being labeled a drug addict or med seeker has hindered my care in ways I won't describe because well it's just too much. I tried writing out one visit to the ER where I was treated so poorly and I had flashbacks and nightmares for maybe a week or more. I'm learning how to cover my tush much better now though. So where is the sunshine? I can breath without pain. Where is the frost? My discharge papers said I was a drug addict again. If there was something like Anorexia Nervosa there I would feel embarassed and maybe angry at myself for allowing them to figure out my secret death warrent. It says a lie though. I am fighting for my life. And all of this because of my mother. I caannot share anymore. I wish all well.

Alley