Mom's Comment

I'm kind of torn where to put this one... as a comment, or as a separate post.  The amount of response I've gotten is leading me to believe it needs it own spot.

In the blog I wrote the other day about addiction vs. dependency and Robbie's birthday party (see: Robbie's 2nd Birthday: The One With Regrets) I got a comment that meant the world to me, and apparently to a lot of other people as well.  This is what my mom wrote in response:

I support Erin's post. Although I am one who has loved and supported her for 29 years, I had my doubts about some of the ways she acted and sometimes the way she has responding to medication in the past. I now know the difference between addiction and dependency. If you're an addict because you take opiates or pain meds, then I'm an addict. I have taken pain medication for over 30 years. It has its ups and downs but I keep to my doctors orders. I don't misuse it and it allows me to function at some level. I never experience a high from taking anything, because I never take more than prescribed. It would be fun to feel good and silly for a while but that doesn't happen. It takes the edge off the pain and lets me move and talk and become a part of society. So if I am an addict because of that then I'm an addict. I don't believe that I am; I am dependent on pain medication to help me live my life. 

In addition I employ other alternative methods for easing my pain; not all includes medication, and I'm finding the right combination that works best for me. It's a point everyone with any kind or level of pain should set a goal to reach, regardless of what their pain is all about. When you reach the point that you're ready to make changes, you make changes. And the people who love you will support you. I deeply regret misleading anyone during the period of my daughter's lowest lows. I understand now, and hope others will work at finding that understanding. 

Love you with all my heart, Erin, and want you to live a happy and healthy life. 

This message has been approved by Nana Becky. That's me. 

I'm still tearing up.  Thank you, Mama.