This will probably be the most uncomfortable thing I will ever have to write. I was never into drugs or drinking really, but I got pnuemonia and my doctor sent me home with 60 Vicodin. The symptoms were gone, so I just kept taking them because I was "sooo productive" at the time. A month later I returned to the same doctor for a refill and asked for adderall. You see, I was the only one working, with two kids at the time and a husband that didn't work but sent them to daycare, so I felt like I needed to be at full speed all of the time. My grandmother died in 2017. I went and got Xanax from the same doctor. Six months later, my body hated me, I hated me, and I left my husband. I went home and got straight. I sometimes think to myself, "I'm not an addict, I'm just an abuser." That's not true. I could blame the doctor for all of the narcotics, but she didn't know I was mixing them. Two years later, I began taking adderall AGAIN, but it was too much for me, so I'd take a xanax too, and sometimes a pain pill and then the whole day would get away from me. Custody issues landed me a positive result for meth (never done it) and adderall. I went through detox at home, alone, and I never want to feel that again. This is only a small portion of my story, but I want to give other addicts something I wish I had known. Looking back, I know I loved my kids. Did I listen to their stories? No. They were fed, cleaned and well adjusted, but the drugs took a major piece of my life away, and that's something I can never get back. I'm a year sober, and loving it. I don't crave any drugs, I am so productive, my kids have ME- not just some version of me. No matter what it looks like on the outside of the home, as parents we have to make sure that love is given in our home. If I can be of help to anyone, don't hesitate to reply. I'm not an expert by any means but I will give my prayers and lve.