I've been sober two weeks. Two weeks without relying on my pacifier. The people around me knew I had a problem for a long time. I couldn't function in the morning unless I had my pacifier. I couldn't meet new people or be put in new situations unless I had my paci. I would go to bed with three of them. Finally one day, I hit rock bottom. I didn't realize how addicted I was. I was lining my pacifiers up and counting them and telling my brother what colors they were. My mom knew then. She knew I had a serious problem. So she staged an intervention and threw them away.

I won't lie. I hated her at the time. And I thought she hated me too. I can see now that she was just looking out for me. Withdrawals were tough. I could make it through the day ok. But the nights, oh the nights! There were lots of tears, lots of begging, PLEADING from my crib for someone to get me a fix. I just wanted a moment with my paci. We all knew it wouldn't be a moment though. It would turn into a full blown relapse.

And I did have one small relapse. I had a hidden stash. No one knew about it. And one evening, after slamming my fingers in a toy box, I needed a fix. So found my stash and started using again. My mom found me right away and trashed it. She was determined to not let me become a user again.

It hasn't been easy, but I'm glad to be sober. Never again will I become a slave to my pacifier.

Love to All,
Kendall