As I tried with some success to bend over and pick up my socks, I cursed in frustration at my situation once again. Tears spring to my eyes easily now. It seems like I am always crying. Fear, anxiety, frustration, guilt; whatever emotion is close to the surface these days.

Let me give you a bit of back story. My name is Bella Cullen. I am 42 years old. I have an amazingly supportive husband. Edward. We have been married for 10 years, but together for 14. We have 2 children. Jake is 22 and is in college studying to be a teacher, and Alice is 19. She is also in college studying fashion and stage make up. She is our resident diva.

We are a very close knit family. I have 3 sisters. Rose is next to me. She is 36. She has a wonderful boyfriend, Emmett. They love to travel and have adventures. She hasn't been home in 2 years. She and Emmett are both working in Alaska. They love it there.

Next is Esme. She is a typical middle child. She married a great man, Carlise. He's a doctor, and she is an interior decorator. Carlise is currently working with "Doctors Without Boarders" and Esme has taken a year off to travel with him.

Finally, I have my baby sister Leah. She is a shy soul. Very kind. Would do anything for you. She lives for the peace and quiet. We can sit in the same room, without talking and still have a great time.

Edward is my first and only husband. I had my children with a man who didn't bother to give them the time of day. He need never be mentioned again. Edward is the only father my children have ever known. And they are better for it. He is a computer programmer. I don't even begin to TRY to understand what he says when he is in work mode. He is shy, and gentle. But at the same time, he is strong and supportive. He's my absolute perfect match. He brings out the best in all of us, and he completes out little family.

And me? Well, being basically a princess of all trades, but a queen of none, I have had a lot of different jobs, but I work mostly in Customer Relations. And…I have a lot of basic skills that I have not seen in many other women in my life. Having grown up the oldest of 4 girls, I was more of a tom boy than girlie girl.

Cars were my toys. I grew up helping my dad, Charlie fix our old cars, while my mom, Renee, watched the other girls. I helped out in the yard, we had a big garden. I was the quintessential big sisters. I watched over everyone. And I was happy to do so.

My sisters are quite a bit younger than me. Six, eight, and ten years to be precise.

But, once they were all here, I was happy. My sister Rose is my best friend in the world. She knows everything there is to know about Bella Cullen. And one day…..this would save my life.

Moving on with our story, but also taking a GIANT step back into my past as well, I will give you the basic low down of why I am pouring my heart out to you.

When I was 15 years old, I went to an all-girls high school. I loved it. I hadn't grown into my loud energetic self at the time, and I hid in the library and read books during lunch in middle school, which was co-ed.

In high school though, with only girls around? It was amazing. There was no fighting for a boy's attention. There were no cat fights. We just existed. We supported each other. But…I digress.

It was in the first month of my high school experience, when it happened. I was rushing down the stairs to catch the yellow school bus home. And when it happened, it was so fast that I didn't have a chance to stop it.

I stepped on a loose piece of notebook paper and I flew down the stairs. All on my back. More specifically, I hit every corner of every stair with the small of my back. When I finally hit the landing, the upper half of my body was still three stairs up. I slowly got into a sitting position, using the bottom stair like a chair.

I stretched out my legs, making sure I hadn't twisted my ankle, or worse, broken it. My arms were next. I could still move, so I stood up and continued to the bus.

The ride home was horrible. Every bump made me whimper. I had a pounding headache. I must have bounced my head off at least one stair. I would have to get some Tylenol when I got home.

After telling my parents over dinner that I had a lot of homework and would be in my room studying all night, I grabbed the meds and a big glass of water and slowly climbed the stairs to my room.

In the morning, I rolled over and realized that I thankfully wasn't so stiff! I still got out of bed slowly. I am a huge klutz. I know the drill. As I showered, my body loosened up even more with the spray from the hot water.

What happened next will forever be imbedded in my mind.

I was putting on my shoes to leave for school. I had my foot up on a chair, and when I stood up straight and stepped down, the pain in my legs dropped me to the ground in a whimpering heap.

I somehow got up and made it through the school day. I didn't do much that day. I barely took notes. I didn't eat lunch. I was limping and leaning against the wall to get around. When I sat down, I looked like a woman who was 9 months pregnant. Sitting was extremely painful.

After school, my dad took me to the hospital where they said I had pinched my sciatic nerve. All the doctor said was literally "lay on a hard surface for 2 weeks. Take these meds. Call your doctor." That's it? I didn't get an X-ray. I didn't have the doctor touch my back. Nothing. He said it would "go away" after a couple of weeks. Nothing could be farther from the truth.

I won't bore you with the next 26 years of my life. But…needless to say, I saw many doctors over many years about my back. They all said the same thing. When you fell, you damaged your nerve. It's Sciatica. Chronic Nerve pain. There is nothing we can do. My family doctor kept pushing medication my way. I took it only when necessary. An orthopedic surgeon said the same thing. But…not once was an MRI performed. Not once was an X-ray taken. Nothing. Not in 26 years.

My original family doctor had retired, and I found a new one. By this time, I have been in pain for over 2 decades. Twenty plus years. I had been given instructions to lose weight. I am a full figured woman. Size 18.

"Mrs Cullen, losing weight will help with your chronic back pain."

"Mrs Cullen, have you tried losing weight at all?"

This was what I constantly heard.

I requested an MRI from my new family doctor. I honestly can't remember the date now. I forget a lot of things from the past couple of years. He said, it would take months to get an appointment. Months went by and I never got a call. I made another doctor's appointment. The pain in my back was getting worse. So, my doctor prescribed me a medication that was unlike anything I had ever tried before. I would be able to move better. At least, that's what my doctor said.

And he was RIGHT. This magical medication cured me. It took away all my pain. My work hours were now 14 hours a day. 5 days a week. When I wasn't working, I was busy being "Super-Mom". My house was spotless, our house was finally decorated the way we wanted it to be.

We could afford to buy new things for our home, but I was certain that I could find something similar and recreate something I had seen in Pottery Barn. And I was right. I could refinish furniture. It was an amazing creative outlet.

Now my days consisted of work, creating, and cleaning. I never stopped.

Charlie and Renee came to visit. They were here for a month. They were now retired and traveled all over North America in their RV. I was happy to see them. Even though I was running myself ragged, I ALWAYS made time for my family. I was suddenly obsessed with everything being perfect. And that meant being the perfect daughter, sister, mother and wife possible.

I began this medication in April. It was now only May and my doctor had doubled the dosage….

I WAS FUCKING INVINCIBLE!

I stopped SPEAKING TO my family and starting TALKING AT them.

It was then that my dad began talking to Edward more and more about me. And I didn't like it. I got angry easy. I started arguing with anyone….EVERYONE!

I pulled away from my family and friends.

I only created more for our house and listened to music. My house still clean. My family still well cared for.

It was now June. My medication was now doubled again. I couldn't see it, but I was starting to crash. I was caught in a whirlwind of medication and work.

My mom and dad now knew what medication I was on. They kept trying to talk to me about it. They were worried about me.

I was angry with them. How dare they try to take away my joy? I could finally move! I was pain FREE!

But, see….that's the funny thing about this medication. I WASN'T pain free. I was still hurting my body. I was actually killing my body.

My doctor took me off my regular medication. Naproxyn. I was basically on this for the past 25 years. It helped usually. But there were times it didn't.

My doctor had told me that he wanted me to try a new medication. Something that would change my life. I readily agreed.

I was told this medication had to be monitored monthly, so I had appointments lined up.

I went home and showed my husband what this was and told him right away I wanted to start it.

I didn't bother to look into the side effects. I didn't bother to look into what it actually WAS.

I. WAS. STUPID.

The drug was Fentanyl.

You know which one I mean right? The narcotic that I have since found out is thousands of times more addictive and destructive than heroin?

You know?...the drug that people can now find on the street? They get it in patch form, like I had, and they CHEW it!

You know which drug I mean right? The drug that it meant for terminally ill patients?

You know…the drug that SO many people have overdosed on.

THIS is what my doctor put me on for chronic back pain.

Now, let's think about this for a minute. I started this medication in April. I was on 12.5 micrograms an hour. In May, it was doubled to 25 micrograms an hour. And in June, it was doubled again to 50 micrograms an hour.

My summer continued on like this. In a constant fog of kick ass medication.

It is now September 7, and I am starting a new job today. I think it's going to be a great fit.

I make it through my day, but I am anxious. Something I have never felt before. I was 3 hours late changing the blessed patch.

When I get home, I feel awful and I go to sleep. I can hear my family whispering.

"Did you see Mom? She looks exhausted!"

"Mom didn't eat dinner. Is she ok? She looks so tired."

My mom and dad returned to see us. They stayed in our spare room this time. I was happy to see them.

The next morning, I woke up to get ready for work. And when I was leaving my house, I was hit with a chest pain so strong, it dropped me to my knees.

WHAT THE HELL?!

Edward was immediately beside me. Lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the sofa. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't stop crying. What is happening to me?

6 hours later, a changed fentanyl patch, and a prescription later, I am back home resting. I had had a panic attack.

Yup, you heard me. A panic attack. I had never had one a day in my life. What is going on?

While Edward told our children about what happened, my mom and dad called my sisters. Rose was on her way home from Alaska. She felt she was too far away, and whatever I said, she ignored. I had no choice. She was coming here.

I woke up with a start. My room is now dark. I don't know what time it is. I only know that for the first time in weeks, I feel rested, and I am hungry.

When I get to the living room, I see my whole family sitting there. Even Rose. It's then I knew that she was already on her way when mom had called her.

I tried to open my mouth to say how happy I was to see her, but nothing would come out. Once again, I could not breathe. Once again….my body betrayed me. And once that knowledge became fact…I was lost.

Edward barely made it to catch me before I hit the floor.

I woke up in my room once again. I had had another panic attack. I couldn't and sometimes I still don't understand all of this.

Rose went to Leah's house. Carlisle and Esme were due to arrive the following day. I felt so horrible; taking my family away from their lives. I am always the one who jumps to help. I don't like this helpless feeling.

The next morning, I woke up feeling much better. I was going back to work today come hell or high water. I drove Edward to work, and stopped in at a local coffee shop for my 1 cup a day .

Mom was sitting at the kitchen table when I got home. The kids had left already and my dad was getting ready for the day. I sat with her and started sipping my coffee and eating my breakfast. I was excited to get my day started!

I stretched out breakfast as long as I could, but it was time to get ready. When I stood up, my head started immediately to pound. It hurt to blink.

I went to lay down until I had no other choice but to leave for work. I turned out the light and prayed for the pain to stop.

What happened next is something that I honestly don't remember to this day. My parents filled me in on what happened, and I felt a lot of guilt.

I stumbled out to the kitchen, calling for my mom. When she walked into the room, I told her that I felt "off", and that I didn't "feel right". She told me immediately to sit down. I reached for the parson's chair at my antique dining table and tried to sit. Mom said my hands flew into the air, my eyes rolled back and I dropped to the floor like a stone!

She called for my dad, and tried to get me to wake up, but I was unresponsive. An ambulance was called and I was quickly taken to the local ER where I remember waking up alone. Edward wasn't with me. An EMT wasn't with me. I was sitting in a wheelchair. Wrapped in a blanket. Alone.

I don't know how long I was there by myself until I heard my sweet husband's voice whispering in my ear. I could smell his soothing scent. I could feel his hands on my face. And I started to cry. I couldn't stop. I was so scared.

It took 4 Emergency Room doctors 14 hours to finally finish with me. I spoke to a psychiatrist. I spoke with a psychologist. The 2 other doctors were the ones to really make the magic happen. I finally got my wish for an MRI. I had been asking my doctors for one for years. I was always put off. They took me off the fentanyl patch completely, although I had to ween myself off with a smaller dose of a different narcotic.

It was determined that I had suffered a nervous breakdown. Caused by the use of the narcotic that my body did not need. The week following my admittance to the emergency room, I had my MRI. The week after THAT, I finally had answers that I had been waiting 25 years for. I needed back surgery. The surgeon said it was so bad that he had no idea how I was even walking anymore. My back was so bad, the vertebrae were rubbing together. There was no more cushion between them.

I had to start going to anxiety and depression groups. This fentanyl patch did horrible things to me. I second guess everything. I cut everything and everyone out. It isolated me. It changed me.

I thought about suicide. I couldn't handle this pain anymore. The mental anguish. The physical pain. I was now completely pain killer free. I took nothing for the pain. And there was MUCH pain.

It wasn't until I heard my Edward talking to Rose that I finally snapped out of it. I was allowing this to change me. I was allowing this to ruin my life. If I wanted my life back…I had to fight for it.

I fought.

I won a lot.

I lost some.

I am still fighting.

I am still struggling.

I am still here.

I will help anyone in this situation fight.

Don't let the darkness win.

I am worth it.

You are worth it.

I am winning.

Today is July 19. I am 42 today. I have been out of the hospital for one month exactly since I had my back surgery.

I haven't taken a prescription pain medication in 3 weeks.

I think I will always call myself a "work in progress", but….look how much progress I am making!

I am still fighting.

I am never going to give up.

I am still here!