I don't know what to do from here. I just know I am miserable.

<!--StartFragment-->

PS- I wasn't going to say anything about my condition, but if you want to skip all  of the depressing stuff and go to why I am in so much pain, just skip to "Here it is:"

I am a 29 year old woman trapped inside of the body of a 100 year old woman.  When I say things like that professionals immediately refer me to a shrink.  I have been diagnosed with everything you can think of by psychiatrists.  I cannot control my anger sometimes, and I sometimes wish I lived somewhere nobody knows me.  I know it is terrible and wrong to think this, but there are times I wish I would just develop a terminal illness that kills me rapidly.  Something like cancer.  Whatever kind manifests the fastest, and kills me very very quickly (not lung cancer.  I smoke, and that would mean it was my fault, and everyone would just act pissed off with me.  They would whisper amongst themselves outside my hospital room.  They would say, "It's just too bad she did this to herself"  "I warned her......").  I imagine all of my friends and family rallying around me, loving me.  Not leaving my side until it is all over.  Then they would imagine me as I was when I was happy.  When I was ME.  They could take my "BAD" behavior and depression, and chalk it all up to the (brain tumor?) chronic illness.  

The real condition I have is chronic pain.  It is chronic, but unfortunately, it is not terminal.  People look at me and see a healthy girl.  They say, "You are so young, you have your whole life ahead of you."  Those words are the most depressing thing I have ever heard in my whole life.  Telling me that I have another 40 to 50 years of this?  Please, please just stab me in the chest.  Over and over.  Until I am gone, and I finally have peace.  Most doctors I see just put me on anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, sleeping pills, etc.  In essence, the tail has been waging the dog since this all started.  Chronic Narcotic Dependence has been out of the question for so long, but I don't know what else to do.  At one point, about 6 months ago I had a psychiatrist that kept saying over and over, Anna, I want to help you,  I want to help you.  He must of felt the contempt I had for him.  He just kept adding psych drugs.  I would say, "Aren't seroquel, zyprexa, and Geodon the same thing really?  He would say, "No, they are all anti-psychotics, but they all work a bit differently."  At one point, this last year I was on 15 different psych meds.  I was determined a danger to myself and others and committed to the state hospital.  I had seizures in my car and caused accidents.  I have no quality of life.  None.  I have to act happy so that I will not be put into the psych unit.  I would talk about the source of my pain.  It is real.  About 2 weeks ago there was an x-ray that revealed, and validated why I would be in so much pain for the last 14 years.  It is all just too, new to me.  I am kind of in shock.  I was brainwashed for so long to think that it was all in my head.  Or that I was just a drug addict, and all I wanted was drugs to get high.  It is irritating that other people can  get high on even the psych meds I take, like seroquel or adderal.  I am told it makes me "better" when others observe me, but I am far from feeling high.  I have a lot of doctors cut consultations short because they believe I am a med seeker.  When I was committed to the state hospital the team of county workers deemed me as "chemically dependent."  Years and years ago, when my mother noticed I was taking a lot of narcotics I considered the diagnosis based on the fact that most people that have it are in denial in the beginning.  i have been to treatments, and the therapy, and group, friends are awesome.  A 12 step program would never hurt anyone so I emersed myslef into it.  One of the most attractive parts of considering myself as simply a drug addict is the fact that recovery is possible.  You can have a wonderful and happy life if you take the steps, get a sponsor, and go to meetings every day.  For a long time I would repeat in my head over and over one of their catch phrases, "fake it till you make it."   I always felt there was something missing, though.  One obvious thing to others, was that I couldn't sit throung a whole meeting.  I would go smoke and pace outside.  My sponsor would get on my case, and say, "You are missing the miracle."  I wanted to tell her I was in pain, and it hurt to sit that long.  I think I did a couple of times, and she thought I meant emotional pain.