No Diagnosis Will Ever Change Me

When I went into rehab almost a year ago, I was a hot mess.  I was coming off of alcohol and pills, and so naturally, the detox process was brutal.  I had been in the hospital the prior week detoxing, because benzos and alcohol are extremely dangerous to come off of, and I had already had a seizure, so they weren't taking any chances.

So as I left detox and arrived at the inpatient facility, I felt an excruciating headache, and almost like I had the flu, but I assumed it was from detoxing.  I kept waiting and waiting and waiting to feel better.  And somewhere in all that waiting, I began to lose feeling in my feet, and in my hands.  They often felt numb, or hot and tingly.  Sometimes my feet were so numb that I'd stare at them and feel all weird and think they weren't mine.  I don't know how to describe it, but it was unreal.

I knew what I was feeling was NOT normal, yet I had no idea what was happening.  I was still experiencing EXCRUCIATING migraines that never, not even once, subsided during the time I was inpatient.  It was so hard to go to groups and classes because my head hurt so bad I could hardly hold it up.  My whole body tremored.  Eventually, with all of this happening, I went to an insta care twice, and even to the ER.  I just didn't know how to handle or bear anymore of what was going on.

I prayed and prayed a lot to my Heavenly Father to help me understand what was happening with me so that I could, in turn, help myself - or at least get help for myself.  And then finally, an answer: the doctor who helped me in the ER suggested I go see a neurologist because of my numb hands and feet and horrible migraines.

And there, my neurologist diagnosed me with Alcoholic Neuropathy.  This diagnosis was not what I wanted, and I will have to deal with it for the rest of my life, BUT, at least I had an answer.  I now knew why my hands and feet hurt so badly, and even why my head did.  I was started on a course of medication to help with nerve damage, along with a slew of B vitamins.

Like I said, it's been nearly a year since all of this happened.  I look back on it, and I have mixed emotions: on one hand, I wish that I had felt physically better, because I wonder how much more awesome and beneficial treatment could have been could I have physically been there 100%.  Almost every waking minute I was there, I was consumed with pain and desperation.  But, it taught me a lot - that extreme physical hardship: it taught me that SERIOUSLY, I can endure anything.  I can endure horrible pain and I can still grow and thrive at the same time, because believe me, I did absolutely that while in rehab.  Pain does not mean that life has to be dark and hopeless.  I made some of the best friends I'll ever make in my life.  I learned how to open up and share my story.  I laughed and I cried and I flourished - and I did this all with extreme pain.

On the day I was leaving inpatient, my therapist shared something with me.  I don't remember even close what his exact words were, but he wanted me to know that I could still have an incredible life, even with the pain ahead.  He told me to not let that pain define me.  He reminded me that I am a bad ass woman warrior and that no diagnosis will ever change that.  And then he told me to go live my life - a good life.  Full and happy and hard and worth it.

I have listened to his words.  I have not spoken of my Alcoholic Neuropathy until now, because I don't want everyone to think of it when they think of me.  So, why bring it up now?  Mostly because part of what I believe is my story to share, is that there is the reality of all of us in addiction having to live with permanent physical problems that arose directly because of our addictions. Another reason to share is because I have all this crap to deal with, but despite all of it, I am still happy.  I am still so, so grateful to be clean and sober today.  I might deal with some pain from time to time, but it doesn't stop me from trying my best to live a good and honest life.

So, you know, Alcoholic Neuropathy can suck it, because I'm not about to let it bring me down.  My addiction did that for far too long, and I have so, so much living to do.

{96 days clean}