I know this post is negative.
I want to be inspiring.
But how can you inspire when you are knee deep in suffering? I know there are many people who can---Christopher Reeves.. so many, I just can't think of any right now.
You see today I have bee stings all over my body. What I mean is, I feel as though my body is being stung by a swarm of bees. I am being stabbed all over. Burned alive.
I just burn and buzz and burn and vibrate and I am tortured beyond tortured today.
I have moved back into my home after living apart for some time. Moving out has been a good thing. Moving back in has not been.
I am ashamed to say I want to run from my family but I find no comfort here.
My children need me but I am in too much pain and agony which leads to a kind of self absorption and rage that I never knew I had.
Yesterday I was bending over to pick up a box of toilet paper and I hit my head. Rage erupted in me. I slammed doors. I cried. Then I calmed down. I am so frustrated by my body, by my marriage, by the life I feel so so trapped in. I want to make changes. I want to move forward but I am suspended in a hellish inferno. The body should be a place of comfort and of pleasure. And I know nothing of those things right now, and for so so long.
Not an hour later, as I was fretting and cleaning, my children decided to take apart an entire shelf I tirelessly organized in a fit of OCD and terror. It was now all over the floor. Papers, books, pens, crayons. They didn't care. They were merrily playing outside on the trampoline, they had made their mess and moved on.
I lost it. Thankfully not in front of them. But I threw things across the kitchen, vaccumed like a maniac while muttering and crying, " I want out, I want out, I want out".
I have always been afraid of death. And although I am certainly not a stranger to suffering given my decade of chronic pain (which led me to be prescribed a benzo), this suffering is of a proportion I cannot even put into words. It is almost unspeakable. Like a holocaust.
But like a holocaust, we must speak about this.
We must come forward and educate and teach and tell.
The problem is everyone around us thinks we are just exaggerating. I mean after all I "look" normal. Hardly, When you look in my eyes you see the level of pain I am in. Disguised. Hidden. Invisible. But it isn't.
I don't want to talk or laugh or be me on my birthday.
I feel almost as if I have broken through my fear of death. I want comfort again. A moment of it.
When will it come?
How much longer can I hold on for when the damage is just starting. I am not off yet and it's bullshit whoever says we fucking heal while we taper. I haven't fucking healed. I have damaged and downregulated my receptors more and more.
I am so sad today.
I am frantically looking for houses again-- I mean little dumpy bachelor apartments where I can put my head and rest. I cannot rest here. I cannot be here. I do not belong here anymore. Not in this house, not in my family and not in this world.
I am here but I am apart from it.
Only those in the holocaust understand.
The others tell you to smile. Be positive. Just be.
I can't. I just can't. The pain is overwhelming today because of some intense emotion yesterday. My body cannot handle emotion. Not anger, not sadness, not happiness.
I am trapped. Trapped. I feel trapped.
Today was a sad day in the world. October 2 will now be remembered like September 11th because of the needless harm people are causing other people. It's just gross what is happening.
I hope that there is a purpose here. I hope there is a light shining bright at the end of this. Maybe in life, that is all I hope for. Life, once again.
There are no lessons are there. Is spirituality for the healthy and happy? It's hard to be happy in pain, such such physical pain. That noone can point to and say---yes, this is what this is and we have a neat quick solution for it.
We have been injured by the very people we trusted wouldn't and couldn't harm us. No warning. No justice.
Sorry for this dark rant. When this pain lifts I might smile again.
I hope it does for all of us.
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.