You Can Only Say Your Sorry Once.

My Dad always told us that you can only say that you are sorry once.
But how does that make up for all the hurt that you have caused?

But then, how do you go back in time and redo? Wouldn't  it be great if all of us got a redo? Or may be like that game show...You could get a life-line.

I guess I would have already used all my life-lines up.
I use to think that I was a horrible person. That I wasn't worth love or respect. But I am learning different.
But that does not take the pain away from the ones that I hurt. I think that they will never forgive me. That they will always hold me to past and never see the changes that I may have made for the better. I think that to them I will always be a disappointment.
I think that I could win the Nobel prize and I would still be to them a let down. The funny thing is that I have never set out to hurt anyone intentionally. I hurt them unintentionally.
In my heart I believe that I am not a mean person. I know that some would say different.
But I am trying in vain to right the wrongs and be a better person.
But I don't think it will ever be enough.
So here it goes: Like my Dad always said, you can only say it once.


I am so sorry.

I wish I got a do over

I wish in life that you got a do-over. You know like that game show that you get a life-line or you get to call a friend?
I wish that was real life.
How do you start over when you have screwed things up to the point that you are black -listed?

Did I finally find the light at the end of the tunnel?

So I am sure that most of you know that I went through a prescription pill addiction.
It started in November of 2010 when I fell 10 feet off a roof onto a deck.
 I wounded breaking my back, my pelvis and dislocated my left elbow.
I can honestly tell you that breaking your pelvis is the possibly the worst pain you will ever go through.
There is nothing you can do for a broken pelvis. Your pelvis is pretty much the anchor of your skeleton. The only thing that you can do is be on bed rest for at least six weeks and of course take your oxytocin every four hours.
Needless to say I got addicted to pain pills for the next two years. I would go to different doctors and complain of different pains to get my scripts.
In all honestly during that time I reasoned out that I was not addicted. I was not a drug addict. Drug addicts went to the street, sold whatever they could to get their "high". I was okay because I had scripts from legitimate doctors.
That meant that I needed them right? I was an addict..... There was a health concern and doctors decided that I needed these pain scripts.



I was so so so wrong. I was an addict. I was taking at east 30 pills a day just to get through. When I would come down from the "high" I would see things that no-one else would. Bugs, spiders.
It was awful.
And I lost so much. My daughter was taken from me ( although that is a different story with a lot of lies coming from the other side) ..I lost my job. My family had had enough of me. I lied, I said things that I don't even remember because I was so chemical influenced.
From 2011 through 2012 my life was hell. I was at the bottom of a very deep hole with no way of how to get myself out.
But slowly and surely I did with the help of my wonderful husband, Chris. I was once told that I was unlovable but now I know that I am loveable. Chris has been the only one that has stood by me through thick and thin. He has never turned his back or walked away from me. To me that is true love.
I still have battles to face. My parents took a restraining order out against me in January because of a Christmas incident. I texted my Father a few time and that was of course a violation of the restraining order and then I walked into the place that my sister worked. She lied on the police report on what took place but I was in violation for walking into her place of work. To my defense, I had no idea that she took a one year restraining order out on me. And she really had no need to do so. I really don't want to have to deal with her ever again. But that is beside the point.
I am in counseling and I am learning that just because I had an addiction does not mean that other people have the right to treat like shit.
I will never be able to say I am sorry enough to undo the hurt that I caused but I also cannot keep myself frozen in time. I need to make steps to make my future a positive one. My on regret is my daughter. She has a lot of people telling her how horrible I am and how I do not deserve to be her mother.
That might have been true while I was under the influence of drugs. But I never stopped loving her. And I never will.
In counseling I have learn that your past does not dictate your future, and I am working hard to make sure that is true.
I just got a job and I am starting school in September. I am slowly figuring out that I am a person who is worth respect. I deserve to be treated well and I need to learn to not always to play the victim.
I know I still have a long road ahead of me, but I have gotten this far and there is NO WAY that I am going to give up now.
I will say that I miss my daughter. There is not a night that goes by that I do not cry for her and I hope someday that we reconnect.
Let me leave you with this: Everything you do is a choice. You are not perfect, so don't think that you will always make the "right" choice. My advice to you? Make the choice that is best for you. Do not make a choice based on what other people tell you. You know that little voice in your head? Listen. He/She is usually right! " To my daughter: I love you to the Moon and back and forever and beyond.

Target: Where anyone can be forgiven. or not.

So my normal Saturday morning goes as followed. Coffee, Shower, Dress and then Target.
I refuse to shop at Walmart for a variety of political reasons and well, I just like Target better.
I usually hit the Target in Taunton but headed to the one in Easton hoping that they had a different selection.
So off I went. And I had a lot on my mind. I was thinking that this might not be the best idea as odds of running into a family member was pretty high, but thinking that I might get a glimpse of my daughter overweighed the negative that I would sure to face.
.
But it didn't happen. I didn't run into a family member. What I ran into took by surprise.



I ran into an old school mate. I say mate because we were never friends.
But she did do me a favor about 5 years ago and got me an interview with her Aunts 's company. I did get the job. And I loved it.
About a month into the job I found out that this person and my twin sister were exchanging e-mails with each others about me. Horrible, mean cut throat e-mails about my life, my husband, the fact that I wanted to be a nurse. They cut down everything I thought I was and who I thought I could be. To this day I cannot read the e-mails because they make stomach sick. When I confronted my sister on what had written about me she told me it was my fault because those e-mails were not for me to see. I never pursed the issues . My thinking was that my job was more important. But I carry their hate for me to this day Has I write this my eyes are filled with tears.


But to get back to the story. I almost ran my carriage into to my former work "buddy". The one that had so many horrible things to say about me to my twin. The one that laughed with my sister as they made fun of me.
And she said " Hi how are you?"
I replied " I am fine" and tried move away. She then touch my arm and said "I hope things are good for you." and walked away.
And now I ponder if she meant it. And why the sudden change of heart? I don't want pity. I want people to learn from my mistakes.
Do I forgive? Is'nt that the never ending question? If I was a good person I suppose I could forgive.... That would be the easy part. The hardest part is to forget.

Just because we are twins does not mean that we have to like eachother.

So I am a twin. An identical twin. This means in layman terms that while my mom only released one egg , on day seven the egg split in creating to identical human beings. Pretty much my sister and I two halves of a whole. And boy did we look identical! To this day there are some baby pictures that I cannot tell us apart. My parents were VERY proud to have identical twin girls BUT always encouraged us to be our own person. In school we were put into different classes. If people addressed us as "The Twins" we would not answer. My grandfather had wanted to by us each an ID bracelet when we were younger. His thinking was that that way all he had to do is look at our bracelet in order to know whos whos. My Mother never let that happened. She wanted us to be strong , separate people, but she always told us special we were. That we were each others best friend. When we were little we had our own "special" languge. I can remember that if one of us had a gym class then we would both dress in jeans and sneakers. When we babysat we would pull our money and then divide the money evenly. If both of us liked the same boy , one of us would back off without being asked.
That's how we were.
of course we had our fights. Our wars but in the end we always protected eachother.
I think it was around 1990 that my sister and I were sharing a room. At the time I was the "cleaner" one out of us. So to solve the issue of dealing with a dirty room was to take my Dad's electric tape( silver) and put it down the center of the room. She had her side and I had mine.
Here is the funny part: We could not go out on dates unless our room was clean. So my twin and I came up with a plan. If I didn't have a date I would let my twin shove her mess onto my side so that her side looked clean. Then she could go out on her date. If I needed to do it I would. We thought that we had pulled this big thing over my parents eyes.
We didn't. My mother always figured it out.
That's when things were easy. We were twins. We loved eachother. We were special.

My how things can change. I can't tell you how much I miss those days when things were so simple and the biggest argument was who would make it to the closet first and get their pick of a joint wardrobe.

I thought I would be a great Mother

When I found out that I was pregnant with my first and only child I was over the moon. I was in Honolulu , Hawaii married to a Navy man and terrified out of my mind. I had my two girlfriends with me at the time Both of them from Virginia and sisters. Sisters who would laugh at my accent and I in turn would laugh at theirs.
The only reason we got the stupid test was because when we were at Wakiki Beach earlier that day one of the sisters ( we will call her "A") said that my "boobs looked huge!"
Now anyone that has known me since preschool knows that you could pile plates on my chest , that is how flat I am and was. Boys never fell for my chest.... It must have been my sparkling personality.

So I laughed and I think I threw sand at her. And then , because we were all in our early twenties we decided to have a party out of the fact that I could be pregnant.
We went to the drug store and bought 7 different pregnancy tests and headed back to my apartment.
I drank about a gallon of water and headed to the bathroom.
"here goes nothing" was what I thought. My girlfriends were outside the door encouraging me and asking if anything had happened yet.
So I did the usual. Took the test, placed it between my legs and let nature take its toll.

When I looked at the stick after 3mins, I was in shock.
I was pregnant.


I don't know what was going outside my bathroom door. For that moment became quite and still, with me all of a sudden rubbing my stomach.
I can remember looking down at my still flat tummy and thinking " There inside me is my little girl."




That's when it all seemed so simple.

Welcome to this life.

Welcome to my "blog". I hope to be honest and true and write from my heart. I hope to show how easy it is to become addicted to prescription drugs and how to recover.


So let me say "Hi". I am a 40 year old wife and mother. I felt the need to write because I felt like I was not being heard. I felt that my voice had been silent for so long and all of a sudden at 40 I needed to yell...... To shout..... To speak. And almost for the first time hear my own voice. To say my own words and mean what I say. And stand by it without people telling me that I was or that I didn't mean what I said.
This would be the one place that I could speak honestly.
So lets t things started shall we?   
I am 40 years old. I come from a big Irish/ Scottish/ Catholic family.
We grew up in Easton, Mass.
Let me explain Easton: In name only is it important. We didn't have a MacDonalds until I was 12. We didn't have a grocery store until I was 13. Easton was a cow town where at 5:00pm on Saturday you could not find a gallon of milk. And Sunday? Forget it. If you needed a pack of smokes on a Sunday? Good luck until Monday.
But for some reason the people that live in Easton were snobby. For what reason I will never know. To me it was just the place that I grew up. To others it was "right" town to live in. To be accepted into the right circles. My mother was never into fitting in with the crowd. She was an artist. A beautifully talented artist who could have taken over the Boston art scene with one painting.
I often wondered why she settled for a snobby town that really only had its population that thought it was great.
But then I remember that my Mother was there for the school system which at the time was second to none.
My poor Mother who had identicle twins who had learning disabilities. She was like warrior when it came to me and my sister. No evil could ever touch us. My mother made sure of that along with making sure that my sister and I got the education that we needed and deserved. My mother fought no matter what the issues were, no matter what the threats were. My Mom was a warrior.