Finally! I feel like today will be my day of relief. I slept well last night. It’s the first time I have slept through the night in a while without nagging withdrawal symptoms. I woke up at 6 AM (earlier than I normally would) but that’s OK.
When I woke up, I did not have physical or mental symptoms as I had in the past. I can breathe easier, I can think more clearly, I can walk lighter. I had a big, healthy breakfast this morning.
I know that healing is inevitable. Those GABA receptors are going to get better and my central nervous system will start functioning regularly again. I would like to believe that today is proof of that healing.
The thing that worries me, is that this is not my first window of relief. As much as I appreciate them, I have felt devastated in the past when symptoms return just as hard or harder as they previously existed. Maybe I have already been through the worst part. I really want to believe it all gets easier from here. I want to believe that it is impossible at this point, for worse symptoms to return. The truth is, I am in someway traumatized by this whole process. When I started my taper over 3 months ago, I had no idea what I was in for.
Now I have a true understanding of what insanity is. I know how it feels to have your central nervous system backfire. I understand the fear that occurs when you lose control and boundaries of all rational thoughts.
How can I explain it? I don’t think I can. But I will try. When I talk about “boundaries“ it’s actually quite simple. If I tell you “this is a dog.” Your mind has boundaries. You see a dog. Without those boundaries, that dog might be intense fear from its snarling teeth. That dog might be deep sorrow from a pet you lost in the past. It’s anything but just a dog and there is no control on stopping the irrational thoughts and feelings. Those thoughts are feelings are intensely amplified. Then, that feeling stays with you all day and night. Every day. Those irrational thoughts happen for everything you try to process. So you struggle all day and night not to process anything. You spend an intense amount of mental energy just trying to stay calm. And all the while, nobody understands what you’re going through. Don’t get me wrong. I have received support from many people. It’s greatly appreciated. Regardless, it’s a truly isolating experience. If my body is not decomposing, people see me through a relatively healthy lens.
I get like this when I’m having a good day. I take a big sigh of relief and look back at what I just went through and think to myself, “Oh my God. I just went through that?“
The support group that I joined on Facebook is scary. I feel so badly for so many people there. Many of them have experienced this far worse than me. Many of them are talking about suicide every day.
And yet our doctors still prescribe benzodiazepines like candy because they just don’t know better. or perhaps they are more interested in taking money from pharmaceutical companies. It’s a sad, broken system.
I really hope the worst is behind me. I know the damage of benzos is not permanent. If it were, I would have never decided to quit. At the very least, I will start the day with a cautiously optimistic attitude. I will appreciate this window as long as it lasts. I hope it lasts a long time.