I don't really know how to write about my experience. It has always been difficult to put to words, which is just another reason why the whole situation continues to truly suck. I always used to take to writing as a sort of therapy. Don't get me wrong, my therapist helps me too, but writing has such an intimate quality. Writing always gave me the ability to be introspective and expressive simultaneously. It has been so hard write about something as traumatic as what I went through in the summer of 2014. It also doesn't help that I'm not at the end of my taper yet, and that my taper (the only way out of this mess) has hurt my relationship.
What
the
fuck?
I hear about people struggling with mental illness on a regular basis. I cannot ignore that people have serious problems that were not borne out of some moral failing. I also cannot ignore that all manner of psychotropic medication has saved lives. But I also recognize that this is way more complex than many, many people will realize or admit. People want to end stigma surrounding issues like depression and anxiety, and who am I to say that those people are wrong? I don't believe that people should just suck it up, but here's the rub: depression, anxiety, other forms of mental illness are all recognized by the medical profession. What happened to me and countless others still remains largely invisible*, which only adds insult to injury.
Did I have anxiety and trouble with negative thinking before this journey? You bet. Do I still have it? Yes, but about different things now. I have anxiety about not knowing what will happen when I stop taking this pill. I think negative things about the people in my life who don't understand, although I have come to realize that it must be a baffling thing to hear about or see. I wouldn't have believed myself that a few little pills could affect the entire central nervous system in such a negative way. That a few lousy milligrams can still make a difference. But they can and do. And although that's unfortunate, it's just where I am right now. At least I can work. At least I can think about other things. At least I have a network of people like me who understand what I've been through and,to an extent, what I am still going through. I'm so immensely grateful for that.
The words "side effects" should make people think of nausea, not "and I was sitting there on the floor sobbing, wondering what it would be like to be dead." That is precisely why the effects of benzodiazepines, particularly from withdrawal, are anything but "side" effects. Reacting to a benzo or its withdrawal in this way is not guaranteed, In fact, many people do not experience the hellish merry-go-round that myself and many others were forced to ride. But many people also do not experience a mental illness or cancer or a lot of devastating things, and somehow other people are able to sympathize and hear someone else out. Even just an "I dunno, man. That must be really hard. I'm sorry you went through that" seems to be more than some people can muster. People get more sympathy when their hamster dies.
A little piece of my soul died when I began to feel the deleterious effects of alprazolam. I don't wish that experience on anyone, but I do wish people were able to at least give that a sympathy nod. It's very hard to understand it if you haven't been through it, but if you inform yourself and just try, that is more than most people can seem to muster.
It is not psychosomatic.
It is not a mental illness.
It's neurological.
It could have something to do with genetics.
It really fucking sucks.
It's hard to write about but I do think it's necessary. I'll get out of these woods someday.
*Thankfully more people are shedding light on this epidemic such to the point that the British Medical Association has paid attention. https://vimeo.com/188181193
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