It’s hot today, this unofficial last day of summer. Of course, here in northern Cali, we are only now headed into our “summer.” Sept. and Oct. are normally quite hot with less fog. I am excited that the summer is slipping away and we are headed into cooler temps. The heat makes all of my sx ratchet up a few notches.
Part of me is excited to be coming up on another Halloween. There is a local street that is cordoned off for trick-or-treaters. The families on the street outdo each other in their decorations, animated monsters, fog machines, etc. It’s the Disneyland of Halloween. We dress up and walk around. (I even go door to door and get candy. Just because I can and it’s fun.) Part of me is terribly upset that another holiday is approaching and I am still benzo sick. This will be my 5th (FIFTH) Halloween feeling the ravages of benzos. I can hardly wrap my head around that without feeling so sad.
I used to shoot for 2 years healed. Then three. Now, I’m hoping 5. If I heal before then that would be great. But I am not going to sweat if it I don’t. I am learning how to stay quiet on my couch, write, and try to be of service as best as I can. I know I am not the only one hurting. I’ve got a lot of sisters and brothers in the same benzo boat.
One thing I am getting good at doing is learning how to not go into true panic mode. I can get close to panic when I feel trapped, stuck in this body that hurts, twitches, tingles, burns, is weak, wobbly, achy, dizzy, cog-fog, etc. but I know to breathe, change my thoughts, let go, give it up to God and just BE. I’m getting better at giving up control. Control is just an illusion anyway. None of us have very much.
I wish I could say I was out at a Labor Day BBQ, all gussied up, laughing, eating pulled pork and baked beans. Corn on the cob dripping with butter, apple pie, and sugar sweet fresh lemon aide. I’m not. I am sprawled all sweaty on my leather couch (Can’t wait to get rid of it when i am well) with my laptop balanced on my knees. I am counting the hours until I have to get up, take a shower and go to dinner with my son. I dread having to get vertical. Dread having to plaster on a smile. All I want to do is find a cave, crawl in and curl up until my CNS has repaired itself. But my couch is going to have to do.
A shout out to Sherry who is fighting the good fight. Keep going sister. You will heal. We all will. One day. That’s what they tell us anyway. Hope to God they are right.