Everything was so peaceful and pain-free, and then the burning in my nose, narcan… and I slip away again.  I can hear voices…hang in there…what did she take…burning in my vein, so cold, so very cold.  I hear sirens,  the pain is excruciating, I am struggling to breath.  I open my eyes, there is 9 or more people in my yard, EMT’s, police officers, my husband, my best friend, fire trucks, cop cars, neighbors, ambulances all in our little quite subdivision.  I hear my husband say, “It may have been heroin”… I close my eyes, I want to die.

The shame, guilt, remorse, depression, sadness and regret I have carried over my overdose have been weighing on my mind for over a year.  When I arrived at the hospital I had a fever of 102, an infection, ketoacidosis, aspiration pneumonia from CPR and was very ill, along with overdosing on what I thought was heroin.   The drug screen came back negative for any drugs however, I did snort what I thought was heroin that day… it took 6 doses of narcan to revive me, my guess is, carfentanil.

Due to the negative drug screen I stuck to my convictions, lies, was admitted to the hospital for treatment of infection and diabetic ketoacidosis.  I knew the truth, and so did one other person, my ex husband, a homeless lost soul…When the phone rang in the hospital I knew who it was, he told me it was really strong, he said, “damn it, do not do more than a tiny line, this shit is really strong”.  “Did you overdose?”  NO.  And he called me a liar, he said it was his fault and he was sorry.   When I stopped over to the abandon house he frequents earlier that day in desperation to get a pain pill the only thing he had was heroin, and I said no. The problem was,  I had surgery a week prior on my tailbone and I had just left the surgeon’s office where she refused to refill my pain medication (I had opiate abuse down on chart) and unbenounced to me and apparently her, I was very sick.

It was the last time I spoke to my ex husband, 16 days later he died of an overdose, carfentanil.  The guilt, shame and remorse drove me into the pits of despair.  Watching my adult children identify his body, making arrangements,  all the while hanging onto this secret.  Working with my therapist I learned I suffered from survivors guilt, I survived but he died.  It was a couple of months after the passing of my ex husband when I told my adult children the truth about that day, how I went to the abandon house, how I talked to their father…But I could not bring myself to tell my husband or my best friend the truth, they found me, they performed CPR on me, my husband had to do EDMR over ME.  How could he ever forgive me…

Two days ago I decided I could not let the next year come without dealing with this secret.  I have to live a life of truth!  My husband was in denial, he said I must be confused because the drug test came back negative, my best friend said the same thing at first. But then I made them listen to the whole story,  stopping at the abandon house, my ex husband dying,  My best friend said, do you think I am going to love you any less.  My husband, backs away from me and takes a moment to sit with the truth, mind you, he is in recovery,  21 years clean.  Overall, we cried, we hugged, it was awkward for me but, I told the truth.

I do not know how this is going to end, I know a weight has been lifted from my body. The next day I woke up with energy I have not had in over a year.  I feel like I can breathe again.  Secrets really do keep us sick.




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