Yesterday was a window.
The previous day was a horror. Benzo rage is much like PMS. The truth is revealed and released but it sure ain't your mature self talking and processing. And the old saying "what goes up must come down" doesn't apply in benzo withdrawal. What goes up just keeps going up up up and you feel the ripple effect of your heated emotions for days even weeks after. At least I do.
My face looks like a broken out teenager.
My belly looks like I am 4 months pregnant.
I am not my "peak self". Nope. Not at all...
Let's talk about the "window" first. It was good. Not "normal" in any way shape or form but "good enough". I felt a little hyped up and high, tackled a walk in the morning, cleaned my house and picked up my son for an early dinner and then browsed some shops in my area. Never for a moment do I forget that I am "different" right now (and praying not always) but there were moments of joy. I looked up at the sky and thought, fuck it, if this is my last day on earth I am going to just fucking enjoy it as much as possible.
Shopping used to be a real pleasurable pastime of mine. Well, to be honest it was more than a pastime... it was an art form! I quickly walked to the stores late last night with a mission of returning my used 6 MAC lipsticks to get my free one in return. I love free shit. It makes me happy, and it did. Simple pleasures.
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.