Knackered is Tested with Benzos

   Hey there, Knackered here.  The beginning of our life’s ordeal with testing starts before we actually arrive on the scene.  It usually starts in the home bathroom setting, where the likelihood of our existence is derived via a test purchased either hopefully or in unbelief at the pharmacy.  Once that is determined and things are a ‘go’, we’ll be subjected to both exterior and interior tests to determine what condition we’ll present ourselves upon touch down.

   Once on the ground, and life begins, we will be tested academically, physically, medically, and mentally for the entirety of our earthly existence.

   My first memories of academic testing consisted of weekly spelling tests; pre tests on Monday, final tests on Friday.  Thankfully, those went away when away when I got older.  They were quickly replaced by a variety of stuff I memorized and then forgot immediately all the way through High School graduation.  Lest you think that I’d escaped, let me remind you of the dreaded SAT or A Levels if you grew up on the other side of the pond.  For most of us, they pretty much set the future path of our adult lives.

   My interest in physical testing came to an end quickly when we were forced (under threat and derision)  to participate in something called the “Marine Physical Fitness Test”.  I made it, but just.  I only met one guy who actually went on to become a Marine, but nobody messed with him.

   My introduction to mental testing began with my induction into the mental health world.  It showed that I was depressed, had a generalized anxiety problem, obsessive tendencies, and little or no impulse control.  Really nothing that I didn’t already know.

   From there on out, it’s been one medical test after another from the word go.  And the results have never been my friend.

   One told me that my cholesterol levels were too high, another that my blood pressure was too high.  A heart ultrasound introduced me to cardiomyopathy.  And most heart rendering of all was the one that told me that I had cancer.  That, of course prompted more testing than you’re even interested in.  The whole thing has left me with a very sour view of the doctor’s office, but an attitude that there wasn’t much left that life hadn’t already thrown at me.

   Of course none of these things did much for the mental health problems that I described earlier.  Bring on the Benzos.  They helped tremendously, they were passed out like candy, and I never looked back. Until, of course, I had to.

   Most of us knew we were in trouble after our first cut.  It hurt, our body wouldn’t hold still and our minds went wild with all of it.

   We all know that all of this introduced us to the biggest test of all.  The daily trials and tests, that have become the withdrawal process.  For most of us, it has become the worst test of our lives.  It has surpassed all of the academic, mental, physical, and medical stuff we’ve encountered so far.

   The daily trials of just ‘keeping on’ make up the test of a lifetime.  In order to ‘pass’ this time, we have to well up all the determination and self will that our beings can offer.  If we can’t hack it, we sometimes beat ourselves up, sell ourselves short and generally make ourselves more miserable than the symptoms ever will.

   Many of us are haunted by regret, often guilt or fear that we won’t be able to endure it long enough to be able to post our own success story.

   I’m a meditator and I’ve spent a lot of time considering this whole experience.  Usually, if I can clear my mind, and peek through the clouds and fog, the sun is still shining somewhere.  I don’t feel like I have to be finished up in order to be a success.  Just look at the crap that we’ve endured to get this far.  The whole experience is something most folks will never have to go through and could never make it if they tried.

   We should be proud of each cut we make, and if we take longer than we expected, we’re tougher and more resilient than our neighbors, family members, or folks blowing up the social media network.

   You and I are survivors and have developed an attitude and endurance that would rival marathon runners.  And really, what is left for life to throw at us anyway?