Waiting In The Fire
The length of time that it takes to heal from benzodiazepines, antidepressants, and many other psychiatric drugs completely surpasses that of every other drug I’ve used. I was addicted to opiates for many years, and suffered innumerable bouts of terrible withdrawals, but the nasty symptoms would normally resolve within a few days, to a couple weeks. When I was rapidly tapered from klonopin, suboxone, lamictal, pristiq, and vyvanse in 9 days in 2015, there was no way that I could have possibly prepared for the hell that I was about to enter. I had not studied up on how to safely taper benzos, so I was ignorant when the lead psychiatrist told me that I would “be kept comfortable” during my stay at the rehab and that she knew how to get people off of psych drugs safely, and effectively. However, 24 hours post cessation from all the drugs, I knew that something evil was brewing inside of me and that I was about to be taken for a ride that I was entirely unprepared for. Extreme anxiety, panic, dread, and eventual loss of reality due to psychosis took hold and began hammering my nervous system with the weight of a 1,000lbs of pressure while simultaneously electrocuting my brain with vicious intensity. I struggled to hold my head up, and felt as though I were a fish out of water and manually made myself breath to stay alive. The entirety of the experience was horrifying and wretched.
It’s no wonder that the ferocity of the attack on my body took a very long time to heal. But even so, I was extremely surprised. It has been a long journey(almost 8 years) to get to where I am at today. I always tell people that this is a marathon, not a sprint. Do not set up expectations for when you will begin to feel better, or when you’ll finally get some relief from the endless barrage of symptoms. Don’t compare anyone else’s timeline of healing to your own because there are too many variables to consider, and there really seems to be little uniformity insofar as how long it takes for your body and brain to heal, compared to another’s. The ultimate question that needs to be asked is: “how do I spend this time while I’m waiting for healing?” I like to think of this phase as “waiting in the fire.” This is typically the early stage of psych drug damage just after acute withdrawal and includes post-acute withdrawal, protracted withdrawal, and can last for many months or years. During this phase, it’s as if you are hibernating from your old life, your old self, and the world in general. You may feel a deep sense of loss, confusion, and profound grief as you mourn who you were and struggle to find meaning in this new reality. Often, one’s old personality is violently stripped away and you may be left feeling that you are a shell of your former self and live to only suffer. Compounding this terror, is the frightening thought that you may never return to your old life and your old self, but are now doomed to live damaged the rest of your life.
I mention all this because I’ve experienced it, and I know how it feels. However, despite the intensity of the symptoms that I continued to have throughout my first few years, I was determined to recover my health, to live life again, and to find ways to cope with and manage my symptoms. I stayed consistent with what I could control, and tried to accept what I had no control over. I would ride the waves out, practicing all the radical acceptance that I could call upon, and savored the windows with as much gratitude as I could muster. I made myself exercise even when my back was screaming and my nerves were on fire(not saying this was always the best idea). I went for long walks when I was feeling so depressed, furious, or fearful that I thought my emotions might lead me to do something drastically destructive. I called others up on the phone to connect with them when I was losing hope, and I allowed others to bring light into my life. I sought out people who were encouraging, positive, and beacons of light who were enthusiastic about sharing their light with me. I always tell people that I am a product of all the help and love that I’ve been given, and now, I hope that I can be the one who turns around to spread that love back to others who are still in the throes of psych drug damage.
The period of waiting in the fire can be a time of creating deep and lasting transformation. It doesn’t need to be gratuitous pain and suffering with no end. Granted, there will possibly be days when the best that you can do is lay in bed and just hang on. But, if you can find it within yourself to let this be a time of self-discovery, availing yourself to seeing different perspectives, trusting that healing happens, and stretching yourself past what you thought you once were capable of, you will discover that this entire process will change you for the better, in time. You will emerge stronger because you were forged in fire and are more resilient than you thought was possible. 6 years after my awful rehab experience, I finally worked up the nerve to play guitar and sing in front of someone again. It has been slow and I’ve really only begun living the life I’ve always wanted, just in this past year. This process is anything but fast. However, I like to remind myself that “slow is good.” Anything too fast wouldn’t be nearly as valuable. The gratitude I have for my life today is beyond compare because I know what it feels like to be on death’s door month after month with little relief. You never know when the day, month, or year will finally reveal the healing you’ve been so desperate for, but when it happens, it will be the sweetest taste you’ve ever known.
