Today is an important day for me. It marks three months without a pill that controlled my life for a year and a half. A pill that I needed to get out of bed each day. A pill that started off as an escape from pain and then turned into a mental pain I couldn’t escape.

I’d have highs that made me ditsy and forgetful and then lows where I hated everyone and I hated myself even more. The mood swings were intense and I was beyond skinny and incredibly unhealthy. Days when I thought I felt “fine” I wouldn’t take the pill and slowly I would feel my body failing. I’d shiver uncontrollably but I’d be burning up. My whole body would ache and all I would do is crave the medication. I was fully addicted. And the man who gave me my first dose of this pill did so without figuring out why I was even in pain.

It took the doctors four months before an X-Ray and then another six months after that before an MRI. I was never given another way to cope with the pain; they just let me get addicted. It took over a year and a half before the doctors finally decided I should have my pain addressed. Three doctors meetings, two meetings with a surgeon and another MRI before my surgery date was made. I waited another month and then went into the hospital. I had blood work done, an IV put in and my back was sterilized. I laid in the hospital bed for eight hours until a nurse told me my surgery was pushed back for another three weeks.

I went home, cried and took more pills. Three weeks went by and I had more blood work done, another IV put in and the largest dose of morphine I had yet. I woke up unable to move my legs and terrified that I would never walk again. Hours later a nurse came in to do some tests on my legs to see if I was paralyzed. After figuring out I wasn’t they taught me how to walk again up and down the halls of the hospital. After I was strong enough, they let me go home. I had to practice stretches and exercises to regain my strength.

A few weeks after the surgery the pain came back. I went to the doctor and he told me that I had nerve damage that would never go away. I asked him about how to detox and he gave me no information at all. He told me I was on my own and if the withdrawals were too much to go to the hospital. The very man who gave me morphine and got me addicted to it decided he wasn’t going to help me get off it. I had to turn to my family and friends who helped and supported me with my ups and downs. I tried to ween myself off and then eventually went cold turkey and suffered the worst withdrawals of my life for a week straight.

I didn’t get any sleep and I would throw up from my fevers and body aches. Now here I am three months clean from prescription medication feeling better than ever. The pain from my back and the withdrawals has completely gone away, and I can now focus on getting better physically and mentally. I don’t usually write personal things like this about myself but I just wanted to warn people about prescription medications. They are dangerous and shouldn’t be taken lightly. Doctors don’t always know what they’re talking about. And I wanted to thank the people in my life who supported me during this and didn’t leave me. My friends and family were the real doctors.