. . . Though I don’t really know what I’m gonna do when I get there, And take a breath and hold on tight, Spin ’round one more time, And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace. . . ~ Lifehouse, ‘Breathing’
This song, years ago when it was first released, made me think of a particular person and a particular situation. It still does, only now both have changed. The person is me and the situation is the state of my mind and heart.
I’ve had no Klonopin for two days. I won’t have any more in the foreseeable future. I have a very limited supply of Valium, and I’m dropping that down too. The gabapentin I’ll do more slowly, because since it’s an anticonvulsant, it should help offset some of the dangers involved with benzo withdrawal.
What I’m doing is very dangerous. Stopping a high dosage benzo after five years cold turkey could induce seizures, even a permanent seizure disorder. But I have been left with no other choice. I have played all of my cards, and my hand is empty.
I should be panicked. I was scared for a bit. And I’m not looking forward to what’s to come. Best case scenario, I have no seizures at all and just experience intense benzo withdrawal. That by itself is a little piece of Hell on Earth. The misery is indescribable, and it takes every ounce of control not to pick the bottle up and just take a pill, if you have any left.
But that’s the trick. That’s what it does give back to me, and that’s why I need to do this, if I am ever to have a “grown up,” independent life. I’m not saying I’ll stay medication free, I know I can’t function that way.
But I need to know, I need to prove to myself that I am controlling the medication, the medication is not controlling me.
This blog may go on pause, I don’t know, or I may bring you all along for the ride. But I am eerily calm right now. I have dealt with all of my immediate, pressing concerns. I have boarded the windows and laid up a stock of supplies in preparation for the hurricane. It will not be pretty, but I know without the slightest doubt that I will make it through. Never has an empty hand felt so good.
Ruby has returned, all. Hide your breakables.
Moral of the story: Look inside, you’ll find it.
And since I have a responsibility to be responsible, DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME, LOVELIES.
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