October 4, 2018
Written by: Erica Sawyer
Change, for me, has occurred at many phases in my life. Most often the motivation was pure selfishness to begin with, but eventually somewhere along the way, I learned the bigger lesson I was trying to be taught, sometimes 20 years later. I talked grace for almost two decades, but had no idea what it meant.
I don’t have a tendency to learn things easily. I usually have to be hit over the head sometimes to see the bigger picture and to see the direction I should go in. I don’t know why it has taken me so long to willingly let go of that need for control. Because that’s what I think it is, ultimately. When I look back, I see various places where God nudged me but fear, doubt, or perhaps a “Yeah right! how is that going to happen?” floods my mind instead of the promise of the result.
I knew I was not supposed to be working in that doctor’s office for about a year. I heard the nudging, but I ignored it because the voice of doubt and fear kept asking “how was I supposed to be able to afford health insurance?” With my spinal cord injury I needed health insurance, so I stayed because of fear.
It took me getting laid off to make me realize God wasn’t kidding around. I was devastated at first, but I had gotten a pretty fair severance package out of the deal, so had I quit like I wanted to, numerous times before, I wound not have had that security, which gave me time to figure things out.
Oddly enough things have kind of figured themselves out since then. I weaned off the final doses of methadone and oxycodone, which was the most miserable time in my life, but in that misery I found a grace so remarkable I am so thankful I had to go through it to see it.
I was injured in a car accident at the age of five. It left me a complete paraplegic, with complications of a syringomyelia, meaning I am unable to feel or use my legs, I am unable to control my bowels and bladder, and sometimes cannot regulate my autonomic nervous system resulting in episodes of dangerously high blood pressure. I was on multiple medications for pain management and had been for years. But somehow, they weren’t working very well anymore. I was beginning to get agitated more and more because my pain was so uncontrollable, no matter how many pain pills I would take.
Because I had lost my job, I had plenty of time on my hands. As someone that enjoys to read and pray, I dove into the pages of support groups for opioid dependence and addiction. As I read their stories, I began to relate to them. I began to realize my behaviors were much like those taking all these narcotics. Why??
Being a naturally curious person, I started down a rabbit hole of information about addiction and dependency. What I found each and every time was a heart of a person behind the pain in their story. Not one of them wanted to choose their lifestyle of constant void-filling. Not one of those people were happy they ended up where they now were; and every one of them spoke of past hurts, traumas, and stressors which permeated their souls with haunting memories, desperate to resurface any chance they can get.
I wasn’t addicted to the pain pills I was taking, I was more dependent on them. But their effects were reaping the same harvest. They were literally killing me. Slowly. One pill at a time.
I had no idea I had gained thirty pounds. I had no idea I had become this person sitting on an island with only “Wilson” to talk to. It took me seeing the pain in someone else’s heart to see the pain in mine.
I had never really dealt with the trauma of my childhood before. I had never really allowed it to surface. I had a way of keeping everything tucked so far down inside my heart the only way it was going to exit, was through forced expiration. It was better for me that way.
Until I married my husband. He has been helping me purge emotions, try to understand them, and work through them. He has been working on this himself.
It is a process and it takes time to figure it all out, but by the Grace of God, we are making steps forward.
Realizing at times, the things I am upset about isn’t really what I am upset about at all. It is most of the time about something much bigger, something from my past that “triggers” me. A loud noise will startle me in a way my heart will begin to race, after that, my brain begins to get a fog–I can’t think straight–not a good time to make split second decisions.
Connect with us: