Sick As Our Secrets

In 12 step groups the saying, "We are only as sick as our secrets is often used. 

What does that mean you may ask. 

It may not mean the same thing to everyone, especially to those who have never dealt with the demons of addiction.

I myself have. I have 36 years of sobriety, and am also a recovering compulsive gambler. I was nearing on 5 years of abstinence from gambling, until 2 days ago, when I had a slip. 

I can pinpoint the moments that led up

to my "relapse" into the insanity of my addiction. I know what I should have done to prevent it from happening, yet I chose not to. Instead I chose to put a few dollars in a video poker machine, which immediately put me into "gambling mode", which for me means that the conscientious, thoughtful, caring person that I am is gone, and replaced by the dopamine high, self centered gambling junkie.

I was setting myself up to gamble for a week or so before I went back out. I was allowing my mind to fantasize about winning, which is a joke to anyone who knows anything about compulsive gambling. We NEVER win. We only want to keep keep gambling as long as we can. That means that any money we do win, we immediately put back, in my case, into the slot machines. Money has no meaning to us at that point. It is only a means of our being able to stay in gambling action. It might as well be paper, for all we care, as long as we are able to stay in the dopamine high of compulsive gambling. When the money runs out, we crash, and reality sinks back in.

I could have avoided the pain and disappointment I caused myself and my Family. I could have prevented this slip from happening. I've been in Recovery long enough to know what I need to do when I am feeling the kind of angst and unsettling feelings I was having prior to my slip.

I kept my feelings to myself and that's the worst thing an addict can do when the thoughts of wanting to drink, use, gamble, or any addiction, come into ones mind. Keeping that kind of secret to oneself can often be the difference between life and death. Many addicts have gone back out and died in their disease because they choose to keep Secret the fact that they were struggling with the demon of compulsive urges.

If I had talked to a Friend, or Family member, I firmly believe I could have prevented this slip from happening. 

I am now One Day abstinent from gambling, instead of One Month short of 5 years. I thank God that I am in a healthier place than I was many years back, when a slip meant a full out relapse and several trips to treatment. Not to mention the devastating pain and heart ache and pain I brought upon my Loved Ones. 

If I can help anyone facing the urge to go back out and possibly lose their Life to their addiction, by sharing this story, I thank God.

Son Has Aspergers- Infancy

Note: For the privacy of my Son, I will name him Michael from here on.

I knew from the beginning that something was "different" with Michael. Little did I know then that it would take 13 years to finally find out the correct diagnosis of Aspergers.
His constant cries were unconsolable. With my first Son, born 4 years earlier, I would pick up when he cried and most of the time, unless he was hungry, he would stop almost immediately. With Michael, picking him up would lead to only louder crying. My husband, his Father, and I would spend hours pacing the room cuddling him, to no avail. His cries were often piercing. Often I would sit with Michael and begin to pull him to my breast to nurse, yet he would arch his back and pull away from me. I nursed my first Son for 3 1/2 years ( yes years, not months!) I had went to LaLeche league meetings during his pregnancy and continued for several months after his birth. They advocate baby led weening, which made sense to me, so that's what we did. Nursing my first was a wonderful, bonding experience and from the beginning I had no problems. He thrived, weighing in at 20 pd.s at 6
Months and 30 pd.s at 1 year.
I nursed Michael for 11 frustrating months. I often felt like I was force feeding him, as he pulled away from me. With my first Son, I was a great Mother in my estimation. With Michael I felt like a failure. The guilt I felt at times was often overwhelming. Was I doing something wrong? I thought that Michael might have allergies as he developed a rash all over shortly after birth, and after that eczema. His Dr. poo-poohed the idea, yet I believed that could be the case. If his "colic"
Which the Dr. called it might be caused by the food I was eating, getting into my breast milk, I had to at least try something. That begin a period of several months with my diet consisting of little else other than brown rice and lentils! It didn't help and I became more discouraged and frustrated. What was wrong with my Child, and as his Mother, how could I make him happy, or at least stop fussing? It seemed the only thing that kept him calm was putting him in a baby carriage and start walking. He would be content for long periods, until I stopped for any reason, and then the crying and fussiness would start. For
My own sanity we walked for miles every day!
Michael's constant fussiness and crying took a toll on my marriage, which was strained to begin with. It also took a toll on his Brother, who was used to getting a lot of my attention before Michael's birth. It seemed like most of my time and energy was spent on trying to comfort my "un-comfortable" Son. Guilt....
again. I think one of the lowest points in my life came on the day I decided to try bottle feeding Michael, at 10 months. I got the best non-allergy formula I could find and sat down with Michael to feed him. He fussed and cried for some time before I asked his Father to try. For several minutes he attempted to get Michael to suck on the bottle without any success.
At that point my husband threw the bottle against the wall, said I give up, and handed Michael back to me.

My Son has Aspergers- Pre-diagnosis

My 26 year old Son has Aspergers. He was not properly diagnosed until the end of 8th grade. By that time he had been told he was deemed "un-teachable" in public school and had just completed his first year at a Private School for children who were diagnosed as behaviorally, and emotionally challenged, or struggled with a learning disability.
This Private School informed me after his 1 year there that my Son was a "challenge" that they were were not equipped to handle. During that 7th grade year, they had become convinced that he had ADHD, and so I took him to a psychiatrist to see if indeed he was ADHD. I want to add here that this was not the first, nor was it the last time my Son had been to a Dr., therapist, Social Worker, or other Mental Health Facility, in search for answers, nor would it be his last.
After many visits and tests this psychiatrist was convinced my Son did not have ADHD. He was depressed, anxious, had OCD, and more than likely oppositional defiant disorder, but in no way, was she willing to put him on a drug for ADHD, which the school felt he needed to be on. Of course, I realized then that what the school wanted was for my Son to be "drugged" into a more cooperative,
student. He was often belligerent, and out of control and they became frustrated with him on a regular basis.
At the end of 7th grade the director of the School let me and my Sons Step Father know that they would not be able to have him back the following year. As we talked this director said that he reminded her of a student they had taught a few years prior, who had Aspergers. This was the first time I had ever heard of Aspergers. It was 1999, and Aspergers was fairly unknown then.

Marching to a Different Beat---My Son has Aspergers

I am feeling the angst of a Mother who needs to vent. My mind is racing with thoughts of living with and raising a 26 year old Son who has been diagnosed with Aspergers.
The horrific shooting in CT., and the news reports about the shooter, having Aspergers, has had a profound effect on me. I cannot stop the thoughts racing through my mind about my own Son, Michael. I am not using my Sons real name, out of protection for him. He has struggled enough in his 26 years that to cause attention to him could possibly be damaging to his already fragile sense of self.
Where do I begin, to tell the story of my Son and his struggle from birth until now?
Actually, Michael's struggle begin before birth, in my womb. My pregnancy was uncomfortable from the beginning, unlike my first pregnancy with Michael's older brother, 4 years prior. The later part of my pregnancy, I often felt a scratching against my uterus. It was worse at night, and often made for a restless sleep.
At 2 weeks, the crying began, and it didn't end for 2 years. The longest case of colic on record, or so I thought. I had nursed my first Son for much longer than most, and for both he and I, it was a wonderful bonding experience, and so, I expected to have that same wonderful feeling of closeness with Michael. Not so! From the beginning

How I Overcame Depression

From earliest memories as a very young child I struggled with bouts of depression. Looking at pictures of me as young as three years old, I see a shy, melancholy, little girl looking back at me.
In my early teens my depression became more pronounced and frequent. Struggling with obsessive negative thoughts, only made it more intense. I started reading self-help books in a desperate search to find inner peace and ways to overcome my feelings of sadness, q