It was my eldest daughter. She was crying. She told me how much she missed me. She said she wished she could have her mom back, but she felt like I didn't want to be in her life anymore because I had just... stopped trying.
Hearing her voice crack, hearing the pain I was causing her—it was like a bucket of ice water to the face. She thought I didn't care. She didn't know I was just drowning.
That phone call gave me the one thing I had lost: a reason to fight.
I checked myself into rehab and fought tooth and nail to beat the addiction. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I did it. And when I came out,
I made a promise to myself:
I was going to find real, lasting relief for my dry eyes, so I could take back control of my life. My daughter needed me.
I went on a desperate search. Because this was my last chance, I looked everywhere and tried the most outrageous procedures.
I spent thousands of dollars on IPL treatments, thermal pulsation, amniotic membrane drops, and obscure clinic visits.
Nothing gave me my life back. The temporary relief always faded, and the burning always returned.