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I looked outside my Window...and everything was bright


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I think I had a window today. I woke up startled, as I could hear my heart pounding away in my ears. I was feeling somewhat anxious...it was controllable. I did lay in bed doing some deep breathing and then shifted to meditating. The palpitations kept going for a while but eventually they subsided. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist; it was a very interesting talk. He continues to astound me because he will listen to my rants, and today he made a comment that stopped me in my tracks. In not so many words...his job dictates that he has to medicate. He was trained to do this but he always found that this was a cop out...there are some people who don't need this...they just need direction, and someone who will listen. They can find their way...once they can stop their stories from taking over their lives...I am one of those people. I didn't know if he was being truthful or not...but it was a gratifying feeling. When I told him about Benzo hell or better known as tapering and where I was and how I was doing; he was attentive...non judgmental, and encouraging. If you can...do this...get off these meds. Get on your bike burn off the anxious energy...find a better way to cope. Refuse to be on these meds. It's his job to prescribe, when it's called for...but it doesn't have to be this way...it shouldn't have to be this way. I normally wouldn't say this to anyone...but I want you to know this. I want you to get better. I want to help you but I can't make any promises. I nod that's OK...the fact that you listen is enough. I know you can only do so much...the rest is up to me. It was more detailed, but this is the gist of the conversation. I hope he is being sincere...it might be a window but I am still being dogged by paranoia.

 

So I went for a frap at Starbucks. I chatted away with the barista's, whereupon I noticed I am actually holding a conversation. I am not feeling sorry for myself. I enter my local bookstore, walk around and I leave...without sitting in the self help section like I normally do.

 

So I head home, the weather is great and I change into my biking attire. I get on my bike, pedaling comfortably...taking it nice and slow. I am not frantic as I would normally be. There is that anxiousness at the pit of my stomach. It's making me know it does not plan to go away...that's OK...it's a nice day and I won't let you ruin this for me. I ride...my mind is quiet. I pedal past crowds and I nod hello...the say hi. I keep pushing, the feeling in the pit of my stomach fading...as I pedal harder up an incline. Soon I come across my little home away from home. The bridge has become my little haven since this madeness began. I sit to contemplate...not ruminate. I am stoic this day...not wishing for death or for God to take me. Not sad and not happy...just present. There is a little breeze...I can smell the summer air with all the multitude of mixed fragrances within. There is the smell of cut/drying/growing grass, the sweet scent of some unknown/many flowers...the breeze picks of the dust which flows past me causing me to rub my eyes...the wind cooling my skin...my clothes caressing my body. I hear the singing sound of the barn swallows and I see the birds in the distance...framed by greyish blue/ white clouds. I hear the gurgling of the now shallow creek and the few vehicles that rumble by...the reflection of the sun shining brightly within the waters. No ideations...no constant thinking...no crying...no anger just the sounds of nature and blissful silence.

 

It seemed odd. I was actually startled by this. I almost didn't know what to do or think. A thought was trying to make its way through but a passerby distracted me and that thought...receded from whence it came. That thought I did not stay long nor did it overtake me like it habitually did. I did not curse God this time...I think I might have said a small thank you. I got on my bike and made my way home. I saw my sister at the door...I felt my stomach tighten in, but that feeling of "bothersome" also went away. I ate dinner at the table; we talked like a normal family. Everything I listened to was normal...as it once had been...not a hiss or a heightened background grumbling. I grabbed a book, and headed outdoors...moved a seat against the wall and read quietly. My mother and father came out into the backyard where I was lounging. They chatted away while I continued to read...while I read with these distractions. Before this day, I normally raise my internal voice to drown everyone out. The sun began to set...while high above the full moon shone. I finally put the book down...went to sit by my parents. My mother was watering the garden...the scent of the tomato plants wafted by my nose. We talked quietly...my depression nowhere in sight...I was "peaceful".

 

Now it's night...I ate some Nutella and grape jam; I couldn't resist. The anxiousness is back again, though it is not causing me any angst. Soon I will be going to bed. I guess it's been a good day...better than it's been for quite some time. I had a window...let's hope some brat doesn't throw a rock through it...I really don't want this to end.

 

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep;

Guard me Jesus through the night,

And wake me with the morning light.

 

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Travuz,

I am so happy for you!!  I always enjoy reading your writing.  You should be a writer/author of some sort.  I think sometimes we just need someone to listen to us.  I know if I get too overwhelmed and I do, I will write on a piece of paper what is bothering me and put it in my purse.  Just getting it out there verbally or written, it does seem to take a load of our backs.  I hope your window stays open and if it does shut temporarily, it will open again.  This is a sign that you are healing.  You will get there!!

Renee

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That sounds like an amazing window, Travuz. It's wonderful when our old selves start to come out. Lap up all the good feelings that window is giving you and don't let go.
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That's awesome travuz. That feeling you get when you realize that you are doing **NORMAL** things like talking and laughing is great isn't it? That's how I know that a full on window coming.
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Trav.... what a beautiful poetic writer you are...  if you didn't know this before, this will be your new journey when you are healed.  Maybe it will be you, with how you write, to help people throughout the world to never ever take benzos.  You have a gift from the source of all life.  :smitten: Pattylu
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Thank you all for your reply.

 

Unfortunately, nothing that is good lasts forever, in this aberrant odyssey we are all forced to undertake. This journey continues to be unpredictable and stupefying...to say the least. I woke up feeling OK this morning. There was this sense of hush...within my mind. It still felt odd to find silence, where before there was so much turmoil. I actually slept last night...I did not wake up every half hour per usual. I was surprised to find it was 11:30 a.m., when I had opened my eyes...but I was weary nonetheless. I continue to have a fixed routine...which makes life so "predictable" day in, day out. There is no escaping this...there is nothing really to do. In actuality there are many things I could do...but I am unmotivated to do those things. I so want something to fill my time...but everythings seems to be a burden...it feels like I have to put much more effort to accomplish the simplest of things. Apathy...has been a faithful, unwanted companion. So I get on my bike...the ride is quiet, still. The sun is terribly hot, I begin to hear a rumbling within my brain. As I continue to ride the rumble fades then intensifies...then fades again. I begin to worry because there is a sadness filtering through. I know that this is not going to end well...depression is clawing it wake back up, from its temporary holding pen. Any relief from this madness is momentary for us...isn't it? I stopped off at my little Shambala under the bridge...the water is brackish now, as is my thudding mind...there is a slight tugging at my forehead. The sun seems blurred, not bright. The scents seem chemical, not sweet. The breeze seems oddly raw. My skin feels numbed cold. It's coming back...isn't it? I sigh...so I sit for a while and meditate. People are walking by...but I don't care what they think - I need to prepare myself. I sit quietly on a rock...right now, it will serve well as a seat. I meditate on that rock; sitting quietly...the commotion is there, just at the perimeter of my mind. I can feel the thundering hooves growing louder in the distance of my brain. It's coming...dammit, it's coming back. My breathing grows out of control, as I begin to panic. I quiet myself down...I tell myself everything will be OK. I know that's not true...but I lie to myself...I need to reassure myself. I must have sat motionless for a good half hour...all of life was back to the way it was. Everything was a chemically induced unreality. I gave up trying as the bedlam advanced. Got on my bike...it was time to go back home..back to that hell on earth.

 

When I arrive at home, the sadness grows. That other voice in my mind becomes a cacophony of harsh bellows. I pull out a sketchbook, but it proves to be of little distraction. I doodled, but you are not good enough says the voice. You are wasting your time. Look how crappy that is...what is that supposed to be...you are a sh*tty want to be artist, says the voice. I give up again, as doodles turn to scratchy, unrecognizable nothings. The anger begins to boil within. I am overwhelmed by a piece of paper and pencil. I can't keep doing this to myself. But you will, says the recognizable voice. I go inside in a huff...I turn to go to the bathroom. I slam the door and then sit down...I sob. I stop only to sob again. I place my face between my palms and I whimper quietly...the tears streaming down my cheeks. It stops...I sob some more and more and more. Then I lose control...I am trying to catch my breath, as I can't stop blubbering uncontrollably. I sit as the tears continue to stream...my face is damp...my clothes tear stained. This happens a few more times. Finally there are no more tears. As I get up to leave; I look into the mirror...I see this aged, deplorable old man. This tiny pill has continued to age me...in the span of a few months, my hair has continued to  grey over. My skin is mottled. I have dark circles and bags under my eyes. I realize I have been lost all my life and I wonder if I will truly find myself after all this. Tears begin to well up. The sadness permanently written on my face...is horrible to look upon. I do not know if i will ever smile again. This is so unfair, I whisper.

 

Dinner is mired in a bought of derealization. I rush out of the house right after, jump on my bike for a second time because of a sudden surge of anxiety. I need to burn in it all out. I am pedalling hard now. I am frantic. I am running away. I get to the bridge again, everything is as chaotic as my brain. This is not fair...I keep repeating this as if it is my mantra. I don't believe in you God...You do not exist...You are a hateful God...silence...I'm sorry...I am afraid...I no longer know what to do...I am losing what little hope I have left. I get on my bike. What are you hoping to achieve says the voice in my mind? What will you gain? I answer, I don't know anymore. I don't know if this is worth it anymore. The sun is setting behind me...my shoulders are slumped all the way home...the light has gone from me once more.

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Travuz,

 

I have done a fair amount of reading, nothing that I have read, can compare to the way you can  weave words in a way that prods them to magically sing and dance across the page in such a spellbinding manner.

 

The world awaits the next great novel, written by Travuz.

 

I hope you are feeling better, and get another window very soon......pj

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Travuz,

 

You have described a window and its subsequent closing with amazing accuracy.  You have had a taste of what life is going to be like once this is over.  It is cruel the way w/d gives us glimpses then yanks them away.  I would print out your window experience and keep it with you always so you can look at it and know what you are fighting for when the w/d lies to you and causes you to lose perspective.

 

Remember how every sight, smell, and feeling felt so beautiful and peaceful?  That is the real world that is being distorted by the drug.  You had a brief step out to the other side.  Eventually you will be living there.

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Thank you, but the darkness has landed.

 

It began just as I thought it would. It had been descending over me slowly...as if someone had poured contaminate over me, until I was enshrouded within this nebulous, fine grave-clothes. My soul is suffocating and thrashing about...as I try to free myself from within this unholy spider's web. Though the day was brilliant, my mind had been slowly slipping back into the darkness. I felt as if God was playing with the dimmer switch..the light overhead was hurting my eyes and yet it seemed even hazier, than it had been yesterday. The entity, which is depression, had broken free and "IT" was now in the process of regaining its vuanted authority over me.

 

I had tossed and turned most of the night. There was nothing refreshing about last nights slumber. I felt out of it, and weary when I woke this morning. My family had planned a family picnic...I opted to stay home. It was time to face my demons...the voice was whispering abhorrent things...flashing these grim scenes within my disheartened conciousness. If this is what you really wanted...then do it and let's be done with this charade, I said. So I proceeded with my usual jaunts...those things that are now routine...maybe even obssessions. This would be my "Green Mile"...I would at least make the most of this day. I went out for a Frap, perused a few books and a short time later, I drove home. Soon after...I jumped aboard my bike and I thought I heard: this will be your last ride...enjoy it while you can. I was terrified and yet, strangely calm. Though the sun was hot, it offered me little hope. The darkness was all encompassing...it continued to chill the frightened child within. 

 

I have been fighting this all day...the anxiety, depression, and the infernal VOICE. I have been trying to keep the thoughts at bay.  However, they had been growing stronger by the minute. And then there is that numbness, that I feel throughout my brain...the malaise is oppressive and cumbersome. The everyday sounds are like thunder in my ears...even the faintest "tap" agitates me...making me jumpy. Everything is so loud, grating...I am startled by any little thing...be it a sound I hear, a scent I smell or whatever a sight might be, that alarms me. My stomach is like a boiling pot...grumbling, rumbling and burning. The worst is the fear...which has grasped me by the throat, shaking me...bullying me to get any sort of reaction. I must confess, I have jumped a few times; the fight or flight response is playing this cruel game of tug of war with my mind and body. I am so tense and jumpy right now: Warning...Danger Will Robinson!! Anxiety is causing my hands to sweat...so much so my palms slip as I type this. Pins and needles move in waves along my body. My breathing is off. I find I am breathing all wrong...my chest hurts because of this. I am struggling to return to diaphragmatic breathing...but I continue to hold my breath because I heard this, smelled that, saw this and that. The lights are brighter...though I am in the living room, with dimmed lights. I have to deal with this as best I can...it's late at night...there is nowhere to run to. Funny, as a child I would escape into my mind and now I cannot even do that...today I am afraid of what lurks within this addicted (or is it dependent) brain of mine.

 

Even my writing is suffering...as I cannot concentrate. I am having problems finding the right phrases or words. My mind is constantly going blank Even looking at this small white space in which to write; I am inundated with writers block...I am overwhelmed. I hate this sense of doom and gloom. This feeling of apprehension...that is now following me everywhere I go. The voice is chiming in for a second time: I told you so. It has gone back to telling me: You do not belong here. That this is a small price to pay, should you end it now. It says to me: you are alone...no one is home...no one can stop you. No one will be the wiser...no one will care...they left you alone didn't they....how could they when you are ill...what were they thinking, when you are so depressed? I sigh, then stare at the wall...I am alone...I have always been alone. I listen quietly as this continues...as this demonic voice attempts to break my spirit. This room seems impossibly spacious...that I feel like a tiny speck, while the voice is a booming echo...that is reflected and repeated endlessly. So I sat watching TV...the voice seemed to stutter. I waited...but it was fading...then silent. The room shrank...grew small again.  All I could hear was Bugs Bunny rousing Yosemite Sam; driving him crazy, and then drawing a line in the dirt, one line after another on the ground, until Yosemite hits the end of the road and falls off the side of a cliff.  I cringed when I saw that, even though it was just a children's cartoon.

 

Prior to all this; I had intended to start writing today...I had planned the beginnings of an epic story. While I was riding my bike...I was creating this fantastical world: something akin to Narnia or even Potter. I was going to do this; the hell with it all...I needed to do this one thing to jump start my lousy life. I was uncommonly "animated"...maybe even excited. When I stopped under the bridge...I had scraped together a prelude...I had a character...I might be able to pull off my adventure. But the voice stirred and it was not pleased. When I began pedalling home...I could hear the distant whisper: What for. When I got close to home: Don't bother. When I put my bike away: You're wasting your time. The voice continued to grow louder. I went to shower, but even the cascading waters could not drown out that cursed voice...when it suggested: It won't go anywhere...think of all the work, all the research...do you think someone LIKE YOU is capable of writing a masterpiece...let alone a novel. I stepped through the door of the livingroom: What a waste of time...what a waste you are. When I finally sat at my laptop...the heaviness was raw and painful within my head. The fear overtook me and I lost my courage. The fear would not let go, and deep within I heard laughter: I told you so...I knew you could never do this. You don't have what it takes to be a success. Anger and self hate began to spike...it took hold. I could feel myself go blank...then proceeded to do what I habitually did throughout this hated journey. When I am lost...when I am most afraid...when I have no other recourse, I start surfing the .Net, simply to distract myself from depression or to to simply stop that hated voice. Fear...that is what gives this voice its strength. That's what gives it power over me. It is fear...that is when I begin to act out of character...I see that now. But how does one fight something that is so primal...so emeshed within us. I failed once again...I lost all conviction and motivation. Tragically, I gave in to the voice once more time. Even though I am still here...why do I feel like I have lost more than I gained?

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Man....I can't wait to read your stories as you begin to feel better. Please, do everyone in the benzo community a huge favor and archive your posts so you can write an ebook when this is all over. You'll sell thousands of copies. At $14.99 you could at least get a new BMW as a consolation prize for your suffering.
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Man....I can't wait to read your stories as you begin to feel better. Please, do everyone in the benzo community a huge favor and archive your posts so you can write an ebook when this is all over. You'll sell thousands of copies. At $14.99 you could at least get a new BMW as a consolation prize for your suffering.

 

I am not quite sure I know how to archive...other than copying and pasting to MS Word. And then I would have to figure out how to put an ebook together. If I could do that...I would be content, if I could make enough money through that venture...to pay off my debts and then have enough money left over, to save away for a rainy day.

 

Funny thing FloridaGuy...I have reached a point where I know I need a job. I know I need money to survive. But I would give my soul right now...if I could find everlasting happiness and peace, and something to be passionate about. I would like to marry my girlfriend...if she continues to stick around. And then have a few babies. That's what I want. That's all I need. I learned first hand...I saw for myself...that money could not buy me love nor happiness. What it did buy me was a lot of junk, that now sits collecing dust in my uninhabited room. I splurged everything I had worked for, to fill that void in my life...to attempt to replace that which was missing in this horrid place...I call my life. Paxil seemed to strengthen that wish...made it more emphatic. It also made me blind to what was going and what I was doing wrong.

 

Oh and I hope I would have money left over, so that I could see parts of the world and buy a nice home with my artist studio. Trying not to be to greedy here.:)

 

Thank you all for your kind words, compliments and whatever help offered. Bless you all.

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You certainly have a talent for painting a vivid picture with words and as you recover this has the potential to help a lot of people find hope as they traverse this nightmare.

 

Like you said.....copy and paste all of your posts in a word file. This will allow you to vividly recall all of the details of what you are going through. When you get your motivation back you can compile everything and edit it into a book format. From there it's just a matter of creating a pdf document and setting up a website that will allow you to sell it as a download.

 

Sending you a p.m.

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Amazing, just amazing. You've described windows better than I ever could and managed to capture exactly how I'm feeling. It helps so much knowing I am not alone.
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