Well... I ended up needing the percocet anyway. I've been having back spasms since I was 22. Not exactly sure what's causing them. I've been to the doctor. I've had x-rays and all that shit. There's nothing wrong with the bones; they're not out of alignment. There's nothing wrong with the discs. There's nothing wrong with the nerves. The only thing left - which is difficult to image - the muscle. Those muscles in my lower back are just... well, they're just fucking weak. I literally have to exercise them every day. I have to stand up and sit up straight all the time. If I go even a week without back exercises, it invites more spasms. The pain is extraordinary. It's incredible. The second-worst pain I've ever felt is a tie between a migraine and caffeine withdrawal. To my knowledge, they're both vascular headaches (someone correct me if I'm wrong; I don't feel like looking it up as I'm writing this) which is why they feel so similar. Back spasms are several orders of magnitude worse, and Monday afternoon’s were the worst I’ve ever felt. The pain is beyond excruciating; I literally have to put a pillow over my face to muffle the screams. Yes, I literally scream. Nothing terrifies my son more than hearing me like that, seeing me crawling like a baby. The cat comes to investigate because she knows something is so, so terribly wrong. Even if the pain wasn't paralyzing, there's nothing so simple as getting into a certain position to stop it. You have to ride out the spasm. It takes days to get back to functional, and weeks to get back to normal. But I have shit to do - a child to raise, chores, work, et cetera. Anti-inflammatories and Tylenol alone are simply not enough. Thank god Ethan had surgery a week ago. If it weren't for his percocet, I don't know how I would be functioning. Yes, I am taking prescription drugs without a prescription. Upon closer examination of the sensation - for me at least - opioids do not, in fact, dull emotional pain. Being a manic-depressive, my emotional range is naturally wild. While opioids may complement the sensation of mania while making it useless creatively, they do nothing to dull feelings of being lost, regretful, or depressed. It's a warm sensation - like being in a womb - the unconscious, mechanical equivalent to optimism. One could say it feels "good" except that it doesn't feel good. It's not that simple. It feels fake. It feels contrived. It feels pathetic. I don't like it. I hate it even more because I understand the siren song of bliss. I know how badly I wish I could feel happy and optimistic and productive all the time. Still, I can’t wait to stop taking these fucking pills. I've used four pills over the past three days. I'll use one-half of one tomorrow and then go back to feeling the aches and pains of my stretching regiment. God, at least pain is real. You really feel it. No substance had to elicit it. It's genuine - a part of who you really are. Some pain is unbearable, and so I understand the functional need for painkillers; hell, I'm employing them right now. But there is clearly a point where the detriments outweigh the benefits. I want real happiness. I want real love. I want real competence. I want real success. Not this disgusting, distracting facsimile.
And just as a warning to the would-be adventurous, if you are not a creature of indomitable will, DO NOT TAKE OPIOIDS. They will ruin your life.