Late night ruminations

It's 1:30am.
Most people are cozy in their bed. Sleeping soundly. Comfortable near a loving partner. Pain free. Terror free. 
Most are sleeping peacefully.
Excited for an early morning bike ride or yoga class. Excited for that delicious cup of coffee and croissant. 
Most are feeling relief. After all, it's Friday night! Maybe you had a hot date. Maybe you even brought someone home for an exciting romp in bed.
Most are under the covers, dreaming beautiful dreams. Spooning your love or enjoying a comfortable bed

Not most of us benzo or pharma harmed warriors. 
Nope.

As many others, I anticipate the moment of shock and horror being awoken by the morning blast of cortisol or feeling like death each morning.  Sick, flu like. Nerve pain and burning. Akathisia AGAIN. This DAMN terror. 

I seem to get some reprieve at night. I had a busy day.
I tried SO hard to make it a normal day for my children.
I began looking for anything that could bring me an income from home-even for a couple of hours per day.  At each turn, I just ran into the simple fact of how disabled I am.
I cannot stand at a job.
I cannot be anywhere in the early morning.
I cannot handle pressure.
I cannot determine if said day will be a window or a wave.
I cannot predict how I will be in one hour, one month or one year.
Yet I need to survive and am starting to PANIC.

I KNOW I LOOK NORMAL. I even SOUND normal.

But this is an invisible illness. 

My physical disability trumps my mental or emotional one.
I don't feel cognitively impaired, sure I'm not as sharp as before but that can be lack of sleep. I feel a deep inability to EXECUTE anything. Something that is utterly foreign to me. I am duct taped together by two other meds. Without them I could not be writing, talking, bathing or smiling.

So what is the point of getting off of these drugs?
I have heard this question a lot. The promise of not being tethered to a harmful chemical. The promise of relief and healing. But, the road there is SO fucking STEEP. It feels endless, and at my age (46) and my circumstances (lost career, income, ability to parent, health and so on) the situation feels quite dire. Dire in a way I have NEVER known.

I am trying to crawl my way out of this.
I'm looking for positive distractions that offer a small income in the interim.
Surrounding myself with others that want to survive this as desperately as I do.
And telling the truth and sharing the stories of those PHARMED like I have been.
 
PHARMED, GASLIT. DISCARDED. 

I know collectively with all of our talents, differences, skills and assets we can all make a difference in small and large ways. It's the only way to press forward I believe.