In almost three months you're going to be able to read my book: Raised By Narcotics. I'm excited and reasonably terrified of what that means. I've spent a lot of time on this blog writing about myself. If you read this blog, then you're getting to know my tone, although it is unrefined and unedited. I worry that I've set up an expectation about my book that my readers will be disappointed in. I suppose these are normal feelings to be having just before the launch of my very first book, and not just any book, but what is to this point basically my life's story.
What are you going to think when you read it?!
It's fine that I don't know the answer to that.
Every day I live within my own selfish perspective. We all do. It's for this reason that I write what I write. In my perspective it all ties together.
My memoir is about the opioid epidemic. Narcotics and what they did to my family. The pain I now live with daily, and how narcotics shaped who I am despite the fact that I never really used them. But it's not just narcotics is it? It's also money. It's the medical industry.
It's people, and community. It's daily experiences.
Everything I write, whether directly related to opioids, is related to the experiences I had growing up in a world that quite honestly makes no sense to me.
This feels important to share with you now. A lot of my blog posts up to this point have been very personal, emotionally driven, and well, maybe not all that interesting. I write what I am passionate about and in my mind it all connects.
Right now I am working on creating something for myself, and now that my book is very nearly finished and out in the hands of others, I have to ask myself... What next?
My husband and I are having many conversations about our lives and what we want it to look like for us and the kids. For me I think that means I want to work from home so that we can have the lifestyle we want to have. It's not an easy endeavor, especially for someone like me who never got an education outside of high-school, but it's not impossible. I'm trying to be excited, and not just pessimistic.
We have dreams like everyone does. Everyone should be able to feel like their dreams can come true.
I never would have guessed that a dream of mine would be to write and sell books. I never would have guessed that I would be passionate about helping the world fight this battle. But here I am.
I'm choosing to embrace what the world has given me.
I've berated myself for not sticking to anything in the past, but quite honestly nothing has ever felt as important as this does, and maybe nothing that comes after ever will. This may very well be the most important thing I do with my life, and I'm trying to give it my all, but that's just it... do I really have all that much of myself left to give?!
Some days I still feel broken, and that has to be OK. It is OK.
I'm not creating something out of nothing here, and I have to remind myself of that. I am not nothing, my family wasn't nothing, and the things we experienced weren't nothing. The world handed us pain pills, and various other pills to take away the very real something we were all feeling, and we each used them differently. One of us, me, survived the pain to carry it around and hold up others who can't hold themselves up. I am so honored to be that person. I want to be a woman of influence, of kindness, and compassion.
When you read my story, keep in mind that it's not just mine. I write my words for anyone who ever experienced anything close to what I did and still do. I write, not for me, but for my family and all other families like mine.
If I chose to work from home and build my own small empire, it will be to lift up my own family and give us all a chance to have the life we've always dreamed of having, because I know all too well just how short life truly is, and if you don't spend at least some of your time allowing yourself the small pleasures in life, the things society tells you aren't important anymore, then you're not really living, are you?!
Truly, I can't define your life for you, I can hardly define my own. I broke down a few days ago and said aloud "I've already lived a long hard life... what more do I really have to live for?!" while struggling with my identity, ideas of my career, and who I should be vs. who I am.
Only time will tell what I have and get to live for. Maybe you feel the same way? All I can say is, it's OK. It's OK to feel that way, to feel beaten down by life. You're not a super hero, and you don't have to be. I'm going to be here to constantly remind you of that.
I've written a book, but I'm not a super hero. I couldn't save my family... and yeah, that kills me inside. That's taken such a large piece of me that I can never recover from it no matter how many words I write.
The point of surviving isn't healing, it's letting it become a scar, or missing limb, or hole in your heart, and learning to live with it. Many great people before me have said it before. There is a void that feels like it needs to be filled, and you'll try with everything you have to fill it, but nothing will ever fit the same way, and that's OK. Eventually you'll see that, and when you can accept it, that's when you'll finally be OK enough to move forward.
When you hold my book in your hands, I'll finally be able to move forward and accept that there's nothing else I can do to fill the void.