I am spending the week in a cozy cottage with my family in Cape Cod. For the moment, Tropical Storm Hermine has changed our plans for sunbathing, sand castle building, and wave jumping. I am doing my best to remain calm as our very energetic 4  year old ( we liken him to a greyhound) literally bounces off the walls and beds in an effort to expel some pent up energy.  I have been drinking a lot of Yogi Honey Lavender Stress Relief tea this week. This has certainly been a lesson in flexibility and flow for me.

We needed to find some indoor activities. So, yesterday we went to the Whydah Pirate Museum. As we drove along Rt. 28 I saw the restaurant and clubs I worked at during the Summer I was 21.  I was a waitress and hostess at a restaurant in Yarmouth; and spokes model for Miller Light and Sauza Tequila. That was twenty years ago! Twenty years ago! How does that happen? This got me thinking about how much my life has changed in the last twenty years. But, it also got me thinking about what hasn’t changed. What common themes continue to show up? What still haunts me?

This was the summer I was hit by a drunken driver. This was the summer my life took a major detour.

It was the summer of 1996, and my college roommate’s family had a rental house in West Dennis; which just so happened to be haunted. We stayed in a makeshift studio apartment in the basement, while tourists stayed upstairs. Our “house guest” would throw the candlesticks across the room, turn off all the lights when I was in the shower, slam the slider door in the basement and run up and down the hallway at 4:44 am each morning. But, I was 21 and living in Cape Cod for the summer. So, I was staying put (or so I thought). This summer was going to be EPIC! Epic it was- just not in the way I anticipated. This was the summer I was hit by a drunken driver. This was the summer my life took a major detour.

Eventually, I  succumbed to the fact that I could no longer waitress. After the Car Accident my hands would go numb- which isn’t conducive to carrying heavy trays of food and drink. The money I made as a spokes model wasn’t enough to pay my rent and buy food. I lived off of Frosted Flakes, Natural Light beer, and Parliament cigarettes for about 3 weeks; until I gave up on my idea of spending the entire summer on the Cape. I was flat broke. I packed up my belongings, took some rolled coins I had in my glove box, went to the gas station, put gas in the car and prayed I would make the trip to my parents’ house (about 65 miles northwest) without running out of gas.

I was taking prescription Percocet and Flexoril daily

I returned home to my parents’ house deflated, defeated and in pain from the car accident. I signed up for a couple of summer classes at a local community college that would matriculate toward my bachelor’s degree. I was taking prescription Percocet and Flexoril daily; and partying with some old friends each night. This would be the beginning of a nasty downward spiral for me.

I returned to school in the fall for my junior year of college. I was in a fairly consistent routine of numbing my pain, and numbing my emotions with pain killers, alcohol, pot, and cigarettes. A few of my friends attempted an unsuccessful intervention with me the following spring semester. I had convinced myself that I was just fine- the pain killers were prescribed to me by my doctor after all; and alcohol, pot and cigarettes were just what everyone does in college- right?! Plus, I was still making Dean’s List. So, obviously I was just fine. I was what one may call- a functioning addict.

Let me offer a little background to highlight the 180 I did between high school and college. In high school:

• I was in the AP and Honors classes (except for math)
• I was in Student Senate, S.A.D.D., Spanish Club and Latin Club
• I was on the board for Key Club ( Kiwanis)
• I belonged to 2 church youth groups
• Freshman year I received the English award for the entire school and was one of the 100 Stars (top 100 students in the school)
• I graduated in the top 5th percentile of my class
• I played soccer
• I ran the 100 yard dash and threw javelin in Track & Field (perhaps Coach Hayes sensed some of my internal turmoil and thought throwing a spear through the air would help- he forced me to sign up for javelin)
• I took and taught dance lessons
• I was the designated driver for all my friends
• I didn’t smoke or drink
• I was never late for curfew

Pretty impressive resume, right? Except, it wasn’t for me. It was to uphold what was expected of me. I had come accustomed to striving for perfectionism- making sure everything looked just right on the outside. So, nobody knew what was really going on at home.

My father’s hope was for me to apply to Brown, Princeton or Harvard. But, I knew I wasn’t ivy league material. It just didn’t speak to me. I really wanted to go to the University of New Hampshire. I lived in Massachusetts. So, UNH  was just the right amount of distance from home for me. I fell in love with the campus and knew that was where I was going to go freshman year.

I felt like a failure. I gained 30 pounds and some really bad habits that year. I went from being the perfect teenager;  to an overweight drunk who was failing out of school and trying to escape my reality.

I know what my Dad really wanted for me, was a better life than he had for himself. But what I was hearing was, ” Going to UNH isn’t good enough.” About 2 weeks into college, I realized that my parents had NO idea what I was doing! I didn’t worry about a curfew. I didn’t worry about much of anything actually- and that included making it to my morning classes. I attended frat parties, and drank in my dorm room alone before going out-AKA liquid courage. By the end of my first semester I was put on academic probation. My father never let me live that down. One semester at UNH that year was $9K. When he would get angry, he would say, ” You blew it! That’s nine thousand dollars up my f$%^&ng ass!”

I felt like a failure. I gained 30 pounds and some really bad habits that year. I went from being the perfect teenager;  to an overweight drunk who was failing out of school and trying to escape my reality.

So, it wasn’t too far a stretch for me to become addicted to prescription pain killers after the car accident.

I felt so lost. I didn’t know who I was. I was trying to escape both the physical pain and the uncomfortable feeling of being disconnected from my true self. The last memory I have of being sure of myself, and doing what felt right to me without concerning myself of other’s expectations, was when I was 3 years old – the time I was kicked out of dance class (see: I Just Wanna Dance).

Ten years prior to my car accident,  my father was run off the highway by a drunken driver on his way home from the night shift. He was quite banged up. He broke his scapula; was out of work and sitting in a recliner all day with a 12 pack of Budweiser cans and a bottle of Percocet next to him. My father prided himself in being our family’s provider. He had one of the most intense work ethics of anybody I have ever known. But, he was in an immense amount of pain and didn’t know what to do with himself while not working. So, he numbed his pain and numbed his emotions.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

Some emotional patterns, triggers and responses continue to haunt me to this day; and maybe one day I will feel ready to share those details. Having Lyme Disease has been a a wonderful gift and lesson for me in acceptance, self-love and forgiveness. I am a constant work in progress ( aren’t we all?).

I was reading How to Heal Yourself When No One Else Can by Amy B. Scher last night. A particular line really struck a chord with me: “Well being comes from being who you really are and accepting yourself in that space, no matter what.”

Some good food for thought for all of us.

Love, Joy, Truth, Gratitude-

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