The marathon continues...
I have been a bit uninspired.
Do I continue this blog and my tale of woe? My catalogue of symptoms?
I desperately want a fairy tale happy ending. Considering that I have 3 medication tapers ahead of me...at least two of which are important to healing, I have to be a realist about the time frame of this healing, and what healing means altogether.
I visited with a close friend today. She told me about a friend who developed a horrible illness. The most horrible illness on this planet. When he discovered this, she told me he and his partner decided that each day they would choose JOY. Each moment, each breath, they would choose JOY. They would throw parties. Have visitors. Enjoy each and every inch of life. This idea inspired me, however with so much deficient in my neurochemistry at the moment I just don't know if I have strength to do that in the face of this kind of suffering.
Today I feel my nerves prickling from head to toe. I'm itchy but on the inside. I feel the beginnings of terror---in my throat. Like acid poured down my mouth and everywhere for that matter. My sleep is so bad I am not falling asleep until 4-5am. For that reason, and many others, I had decided to take a temporary sublet so that I could assist in my healing and sleep until 11am if I need to. Sometimes this works better than others. But living in a tiny house with two rowdy boys has always been unsettling to my nervous system, even when I was healthy. I am sound and energy sensitive. I need my own nook. My own hideaway. Of course in benzo withdrawal there is no real hideaway because you can't ever escape your own body, except in death. It is really quite difficult to put into words the suffering. I am saddened that Jennifer Leigh decided to take down her informative blog when she developed a recent setback. I really wonder, 6 years later for her and for so many protracted is this still benzos or has it sparked some virus or bacterial or autoimmune reaction in the nervous system Why do some heal quicker than others? How did my doctor get a 92 year old woman off benzos (and many would ask WHY). Do the kindled heal ( I am so kindled, but Baylissa assures me that YES they do heal).
For the last 3 mos, I have had my own little nook, and soon I won't. I'm panicking. I desperately crave quiet and being alone at the moment. Having my own nook helped. It didn't help my pocketbook, but it helped. But the guilt of leaving my family also loomed the entire time. And the shame of not working and not being able to earn money. Being entirely dependent. All of it are just opposed to who I am and who I have always been. But this as you know, can bring the strongest to their freaking knees. And it has.
Within the next couple of days that sublet will come to an end. I am panicking. I was in the midst of hiring childcare , trying frantically to find someone to fill my office space that I had to give up on finding a new home for now. My health is still looming. I feel so sick on a daily basis, and yet this is true invisible illness. I am not yet off the benzo. I am down to a crumb. Still holding at .15. Terrified and I mean terrified to go down further. I just CANNOT handle the symptoms getting any worse, yet no healing is happening on this amount I don't care what the hell anyone says.
My nerves have gotten sensitized beyond belief being on this crap for so long. I wish I had had the right doctor at that time who recognized what this was, and even better just kept me on gabapentin or remeron instead of reinstating like 3 times. Biggest mistake of my life, aside from taking this crap to begin with.
The past is the past. Here we are. Others have walked before us and have made it.
We are all warriors.
I have talked to several new benzo friends this week. Each time I talk with new folks from all over the country and the world, I am struck at how similar we sound. How can this be? We are from all walks of life, diverse religions and upbringings and yet there is an instant camaraderie. An instant knowing. I see you, I hear you, I believe you.
I see you.
I hear you.
I believe you.
I am your sister, friend, neighbor, mother, I AM YOU and YOU ARE ME.
We need to prop each other up, encourage, cajole, intervene and love each other especially when so many lack understanding and belief that this is REAL and that this torture can last for THIS LONG.
Yes. It can my friends. It can.
Someone who found themselves accidentally dependent and suffered an iatrogenic injury from medications that were prescribed. Sharing experience, strength and hope with others. This is written as a person on this winding path and NOT as a professional. Please contact a licensed professional for any medical/psychological care or advice. This is NOT a substitute for medical or psychological care. What is written here reflects my own personal experience ONLY.