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"The fall and the road to success..." by Conzumed


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PREFACE

 

  When I started writing my success story, about a month ago, I had no idea I would eventually do a full 20 pages of it. My idea was to make it in a way, so that even people who had no prior knowledge of benzos might benefit from it; and specifically to make my family and friends understand just what exactly was the strange thing I was going through. However, they can wait a bit: it is you guys, my benzo buds and my saviors, that need to hear from me first.

 

  This story I’m about to post is a modified (shorter) version of it, containing mostly just the “juicy part” without any other explanatory stuff which I intended for the benzo ignorant. It still might be a bit long and I apologize for it, but I hope that it might provide encouragement to some of you. If it could help, even just one person, there wouldn't be a happier guy than me.

 

  Also I would like to thank everybody at benzobuddies: especially to Frontsider, Tormodg, PJ, RevBlue (among others) and how their blogs and success stories not only gave me much encouragement, but how they also helped me find the right words for my own. Also a big thanks to Devant, Adie, Surprised1 and others from the Ginkgo thread: it was fun and that experiment definitely helped me reach that elusive “finally recovered” stage… Of course I want to thank to all other members and the staff of benzobuddies: if I never ran into you, I honestly don’t know where I would be today or if I would be even alive for that matter.

 

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I owe you my life back.

 

 

INTRODUCTION

 

  So, how to begin this story? Honestly, a little more than a year ago, if someone told me about the hell I would have to endure after being handed a couple of little “innocently enough” looking white pills from one careless medical doctor, I would just think he’s having a seriously bad joke, nothing more. Yet, it happened, a genuine life changing experience for which I was completely unprepared.

 

  Just briefly, let me tell you something about myself and how my life was before this benzo nightmare began.

 

  Well, I always considered myself to be an outgoing guy that always liked to be on the move, I traveled a lot, worked a lot, studied abroad, did a lot of sports, had a big circle of friends and I even spent almost 4 years in the U.S. (hence I hope that my level of English will be good enough to write in a good and interesting way). Though my origins were very humble, I have managed to accomplish quite a lot, mostly on my own and without the support of anyone; although I have to admit, luck did play a big part in a lot of my endeavors. Eventually, by September 2011, I had started doing a Master's in Milan and during my Autumn semester I met a lot of cool people, had a really good time and started dating a beautiful girl from my campus that I became madly in love with. Everything was heading in a almost perfect direction...

 

  I could probably go much more into details but I will skip it and just summarize: The life I led, once I turned 21 (I'm 28 now), was fast paced, quite stressful at times and I’m sure this had a lot of impact on my body. However I was always an energetic guy, the nomadic lifestyle was something I very much enjoyed. Even though I sometimes pushed myself a bit too much, I never really had any health problems; the terms like panic, anxiety, depression never even existed in my vocabulary and I can’t remember I ever took anything stronger than a mere aspirin as far as medications go.

 

 

PART I - The Fall

 

  Now, when I think about it, I probably had around three or four panic attacks during my entire lifetime. Of course, I had no idea what that actually was and at those very rare moments I had experienced it, I always thought that my heart was just having a small glitch and never gave it too much thought.

 

  Then something happened. I don’t know what the cause was; maybe my body was just worn out thanks to my somewhat reckless lifestyle; maybe it was just saying “enough - slow down!”; maybe I had some mystery illness… I guess I will never now. However as the month of March (’12) began, I started having panic attacks much more frequently, which as time went by, started showing up on a daily basis. There were no real triggers and they just kept popping up at completely random times. Since at that time, I had no idea what panic attack actually was, I thought that my heart was simply not working well.

 

  By the middle of April I was getting bothered more and more and after one particularly nasty attack, I went to the Emergency Room, convinced that my heart will stop. After arriving at the hospital, the doctor did a blood test and a quick examination. Once he told me that all the results are perfect, he handed me a prescription for something called “Xanax” to take for the next two weeks, twice a day, to have some rest and I would be fine.  I went to the pharmacy, got the pills but after reading the label I was a bit puzzled by something that had “psychotropic” written on it; however, I put my faith in the doctor’s decision and was sure he knew the best.

 

  (If I knew about the devastation, pain and misery these little insignificant pills would cause me, I would have shredded that prescription in an instant.)

 

  I clearly remember the day I took my first pill; in as little as 15 minutes later I felt very calm, chilled and a bit sleepy… actually the feel that is most similar to a feeling you have while being drunk; although I had no balance or vision issues. Furthermore, the best thing about it: not a single attack all day! “Wow, modern medicine is amazing!” I told to myself even though I did acknowledge that the feel I had was very similar to that of being intoxicated. Nonetheless, I quickly dismissed that notion by again reassuring myself that this is a MEDICINE given to me by a professional doctor, not a bottle of Scotch or a Vodka. It absolutely cannot be the same.

 

  (Of course they weren't the same: this was much much worse... Ooh if I only knew.)

 

  So for the next five to six days I was feeling good, content that the medication is working and that it will all be over soon. After little more than one week however, every night I started feeling a bit “funky” and even started worrying about some really strange and bizarre stuff, stuff I wouldn't normally even be thinking about. I got these crazy thoughts of impending doom and other weird sensations in my body started to manifest. I was becoming a bit anxious and I couldn't even understand why.

 

  Just before the month had finished, I went of a one week holiday to Sweden, to visit some of my Swedish buds I met during my first semester. Before the start of the trip, I stopped taking Xanax since the two weeks the doc mentioned had already passed. The trip started great but after the “Valborg” day, a holiday that celebrates the beginning of summer in Sweden and during which there is a lot of alcohol involved, we drank quite heavily. It was great during the day but afterwards, when the night came, I started having those attacks again and also got an insane hangover. So for the last couple of days of my holiday I became a bit agitated, one more attack followed and even though those days were fun, they were still followed by lingering anxiety and the strange feelings and bodily sensations came back again. Also during my stay I was sleeping mostly on a couch, got very tired from all the partying and travelling, so by the end, I just couldn't wait to get back to my place and have some restful sleep.

 

  Ever since I came back to Italy, I developed a very nasty insomnia and as sleepless days progressed, anxiety was slowly becoming my new problem. I couldn't understand why: I was so tired but just failed to fall asleep, how was that even possible? After a couple of failures with some herbal supplements, I decided to pop another Xanax. However, that didn't work either. This got me very concerned and I went to the ER once again. Once I explained my situation, the doctor (this time it was another guy) gave me a couple of Zolpidem pills.

 

  The two nights I took them was like taking a sugar pill, absolutely nothing happened. “What the hell, aren't these supposed to be sleeping pills or something??” I said to myself. So for the next week or so, I stopped taking anything, started pushing myself to run and do sports and just spend time with my girlfriend and friends. However, nothing helped, the strange symptoms remained and my hypochondriasis and confusion was becoming more evident now. I was slowly getting convinced that I have some strange illness which is becoming more apparent as the time passed away.

 

  Being a typical guy, I began searching for answers on one of the worst possible places: on line. Asking “Dr. Google” for help and while reading page after page, checking one symptom over another, I soon found myself lost inside my own train of thoughts. I became afraid and desperate that the doctors might have missed something. Eventually around 20th of May, by a recommendation from the last ER doc I had visited and seeing how my exams and obligations were slowly approaching, I decided to go to a psychiatrist, for the first time ever. I remember how I laughed at myself and saying: “Well about time you whacko… you didn't see this coming, ha?”

 

  The psychiatrist was this young guy who seemed quite confident and knowledgeable as we talked. Once the session came to an end he gave me a prescription for “Remeron 30mg” and said to take it each night for the next couple of months and it will be all sorted out. Once I told him that I don’t have actual depression and that in fact I never suffered from depression in my life, he just shrugged and said that these meds are taken for various reasons and that I have nothing to worry about.

 

  That following night I took his pill and by the time morning came I had a very messed up reaction to it: completely blurred vision, became almost blind, my heart pounding wildly, extremely difficult to breathe, skin rash, trouble with my coordination and a major adrenaline rush… I totally freaked out, thought I was dying and quickly made an emergency call. Once they took me and I had arrived at the hospital, I ended up with being injected with something (which later I realized was a very strong benzodiazepine just like Xanax) and was told to continue taking the antidepressant. I asked them if they are mad and said that there is no way I would ever take that s%#t again after what just happened. Afterwards I called a cab, somehow dragged myself back home and quickly fell asleep afterwards.  So for the next week or so, I once again stayed from any medications or supplements… and once again, my condition remained the same.

 

  (Probably the combo of the heavy AD reaction combined with the intravenous benzodiazepine I received at the hospital had shocked my system quite severely.)

 

  Finally June came and in fact, I started feeling even worse, still completely clueless as to what was going on inside my body. My insomnia was freaking me out to the point that I actually went to the ER for some nights and begged them to give me a shot of something, anything that would make me fall asleep, for at least a little bit. Of course they would just hand me more of the same pills and tell me to go home… boy I sure felt like an idiot. Also by that time, I had a lot of stuff to do regarding my studies, some projects and some really hard exams were fast approaching. I was really worn out and in a bad shape so I had decided to go fly back home for a week or two… to rest and to try to find some answers about the causes of my strange condition.

 

  Once I got home, after a couple of days as there was no change in how I felt, I had reluctantly decided to go and make an appointment with one highly respected psychiatrist mainly because: I really had no idea what else to do and my parents were quite worried for me. Eventually I went to visit this guy and as I talked for about 30 minutes or so, he wasn't even looking at my direction. It was obvious that to him, I was just a nutjob #134. Later, he just handed a prescription for a "Escitalopram” (which later I learned was an antidepressant similar to Prozac), told me that I have General Anxiety Disorder and sent me home. After I asked him “…but don’t I have at least 15 more minutes of your time??” he basically kicked me out.

 

  I took his pills for the next three days for which my blood pressure and heart rate went sky high, I became really agitated and restless and had this painful feel like I had a knife stuck in my chest. I stopped it, went back to him and started arguing about the crap he gave me. We almost had a fight and his secretary wanted to call the police so I walked out, never seeing him again. I still remember some of the faces of his patients that were in the hallway as I was about to leave. They've must have thought that I was some major loony for sure.

 

  In the days that followed, I had tried again some home remedies, teas, supplements, even crap like homeopathy: all a complete waste of time and money. Once again, still desperate, wandering and not knowing for whom else to turn to I had eventually gone to my third psychiatrist: and old geezer working at the local hospital. He seemed a bit more compassionate and understandable than the rest, as I explained my story. At the end, he made a quick diagnosis; told me I was very stressed out, gave me a prescription for Trazodone and Rivotril (Klonopin). As I was leaving his office, I remember checking out the box of Klonopin that stated “anti-epileptic” and thinking: “Why the f- did he gave me this?” Since I never had epilepsy before I immediately went back to him. However he reassured me that the drug has many medical uses, even long-term and it is perfectly fine for me to use for the coming months. A small voice inside my head was screaming not to take it as I got a real bad feeling about it… but seeing how I had no other solution in sight; I had decided to give it a go. That night I took it and I was completely knocked out cold for almost 12 hours. It was amazing! This Klonopin was something like Xanax on steroids, the way it made me feel. The following nights were the same and I thought I had finally hit the jackpot. The extreme dizziness and sedation hasn't bothered me at all and I was finally sleeping.

 

  (Oh how I wish it did.)

 

  Somehow drugged up and under control, I went back to Italy in order to get ready for the coming exam period. Although initially the Klonopin was effective, as soon as two weeks passed (just like with Xanax some months before), all the symptoms started reemerging again. Even some new ones were about to pop up soon too. I guess I was just so messed up and busy that I failed to realize the same pattern was happening again. Despite it all I kept taking it… still at the same dosage, just like the doctor said.

 

  July came and here starts a haze of artificial sleep and sometimes the complete lack of it (afterwards, I quickly stopped taking Trazodone since it was obviously doing nothing), extreme “no trigger - chemically induced” anxiety combined with worrying about the exams naturally, loss of appetite and weight, restlessness, sweats and chills, trouble concentrating and mind constantly wandering, chest pain and stomach problems. Also I started having tremors and developed a shaking of my left hand that used to come and go: if you saw Tom Hanks at the beginning of “Saving Private Ryan”, it was something like that. What was worse, at the end of semester I had to say goodbye to a lot of cool people as they were finishing their studies and leaving Italy… and the worst of all: my relationship, one that I cared so much for, came to an end after a series of misunderstandings - take one guess as to what was to blame. This had caused me, already weakened in mind, to eventually plunge into severe depression too.

 

  So on top of it all I also had my exams to deal with as well… and I still have no idea how the hell was I able to study too, in all that mess, but somehow I did. Even got some excellent marks to my big surprise and I cried my ass off once I got enough points to retain my scholarship for the next year. That was about the only highlight of that period. As the month came to an end, I was getting ready to go home again and hopeful that, before the start of next academic year, I would surely be back to my old self. After all, I had more than one month of holiday time.

 

  (Little did I know that August would become the hardest month of my young life and that I would be very close to becoming a member of the “club 27” at one point.)

 

  As the month began, most of my time I was spending at my family’s place in the suburbs, trying to relax and do some minor work around the house. Despite my best efforts to ignore it, my condition was becoming really bad. The shakes and tremors became stronger, the insomnia so bad that I had slept an average of 45 min per day and even in that little time of sleep I would have terrible nightmares. A lot of times I was so agitated, I couldn't sit still for longer than one minute and had to pace up and down until I would eventually exhaust myself. I even used to go to the stadium on the athletic track were I used to train before, and would run around like a mad man. Where did I get my energy from, I had no idea.

 

  I was ignoring most of my friends since I was kind of embarrassed and I didn't want them to see me in this state. Actually the only persons I was visiting during that time were a bunch of other doctors who were juggling me between each other while doing a host of different medical tests. The tests were all negative of course and in all my craziness I was actually hoping that they would find some major illness so I could finally put my mind “to ease”. However, the complete opposite happened: my diagnoses ranged from anxiety, depression, stress related insomnia, hyperactivity, dysfunctional HPA axis (?)… to even being bipolar and having PTSD… and every time they would make such a diagnosis, in all my pain and confusion, deep down inside I would actually laugh: I mean, when did I get a chance to become all that… seriously? They were constantly pushing me to increase my dosage of Klonopin and even wanted to add some more drugs too.

 

  (Luckily there was still a very tiny voice of reason within me that kept me from doing it.)

 

  Additionally, on one of my good friend’s recommendation, I even started visiting one psychologist for a couple of times per week, where together we desperately tried to find a true root cause of all of this. Of course it was a complete failure with no results, because there were no “childhood issues” or “traumas” to deal with: my life was completely fine until this happened.

 

  As days progressed, my suffering was becoming more and more severe. Pretty soon, my symptoms took over my life completely. They were present constantly and I became consumed (hence my nickname) by them. I started feeling more and more detached from myself. I had no idea who I was anymore and looking at myself in the mirror, I failed to recognize that person anymore; almost as if my spirit was completely devoid of my body. My spark, my essence or however you want to call it was extinguished. I became a mere shell of my old self. It soon became even worse.

 

  By the end of the month my sheer will to live was put to the biggest test. In the final days of August I was suffering from total insomnia, depersonalization/derealization, fatigue, stomach and chest pain, high blood pressure, rapid heartbeat, confusion, restlessness, severe anxiety and depression, vision problems, tremors and body shakes… all of this soon got accompanied by something horrific: in one of the days that followed I said “enough” and stopped taking the Klonopin since clearly it was not helping me with whatever illness I thought I had. With this I have (unknowingly at the time) done a cold turkey. So pretty soon I started feeling as if I was literally burning from the inside, my organs being shredded and everything else was magnified to the extreme. Hell would have been a welcome place.

 

  This lasted for four days… by far the longest, most agonizing four days of my life. Every man has his limit and mine was getting dangerously close. The sheer pain and suffering I was going through was inhumane. Really, I was just hoping someone will put me out of my misery and I seriously started pondering suicide. The fourth day, the last day of August I went with some of my friends, on their initiative, to the riverside of my hometown. The day was beautiful and although I was just trying to enjoy the day, at the same time I was literally frying from the inside. I started thinking of many ways on to how to end my life and was certain I wouldn't make it by the next day… I think that if I stayed alone, I would have probably done it. Luckily by circumstance, I ended up with my friends all day, trying to act more or less normal, while they didn't even have a clue about the turmoil that was happening deep within me.

 

  In that sense, I think that they had unintentionally saved my life. By the time night came, once I returned home, I actually felt a tiny bit better. Before going to bed, without even thinking, I popped another klonopin again after that four day break and actually managed to get a couple of hours of much needed sleep. I think that was probably the only time these drugs have actually helped me; in a messed up sort of a way.

 

  (So August came to an end… honestly, how I managed to keep my sanity during those days is still beyond me.)

 

***

 

  Finally, September came and something strange happened: after somehow pushing through those almost suicidal days of late August, I felt a change. I guess that, perhaps by somehow surviving those four cold turkey days, I managed to get a moment of clarity and while inside this small window of normality, I was able to do a bit of a research online; on the adverse effects of the meds I was taking. While browsing, two words got my attention: benzodiazepine withdrawal and, more significantly, “benzobuddies.org”. I have decided to check it out, signed up and started a quick tour of the forum based web site.

 

  It struck me like a freight train. At first, it sounded almost too good to be true and I’d often ask myself: “Could all of this be just because of these crazy pills and nothing else? Could they be the sole cause of so many horrid symptoms… that I don’t have some underlying illness behind this??” My mouth dropped to my chin as I soaked all the information while scrolling through the forum. I felt like Neo, when he is being told about the truth behind the Matrix; except this Neo was fed too many blue pills beforehand.

 

  As I gathered more and more information at BB and as I talked with other brave souls going through the same terrible experience, practically every single symptom I had was pinpointed to the “benzodiazepine tolerance and withdrawal syndrome” I got thanks to the drugs that were prescribed to “treat” my condition: the very condition they’ve created in the first place!!. Without a shadow of doubt I had finally realized what the true cause of all my suffering was. No words can ever express the sheer joy and relief I felt after these revelations.

 

  It’s funny now, when I think about it, when everyone else had failed me, how it took a group of completely anonymous strangers I met on some online forum to finally turn the tide for me. However, you guys showed more compassion, care and sympathy than many “real” persons I had encountered along my troubled way… and more importantly, the knowledge and understanding this web site has is immense! If I never ran across such valuable and lifesaving information, I’m sure I would have (reluctantly) gone back to some other idiotic psychiatrist and he would give me more of the crazy stuff until I'd be walking hand to hand with Robert Downey Jr. on top of a rainbow cloud... and I’d be back to where I started, or much worse. Luckily, I had finally educated myself, got some great advice and support from this forum and I finally knew what needed to be done.

 

  Eventually, by mid-September I had returned to Italy since the second year of my studies was about to begin. I was still very symptomatic but at least with a much clearer head. After all, just realizing that “I am normal, it’s just the pills” was incredibly helpful. Also the feel of having a fresh start, as the semester began, has proven great as a distraction from my almost constant mental and physical struggles. The timing was perfect to start my taper. At first, I started slow but since I quickly realized that making cuts made no significance in how good or bad I felt, I've decided to speed things up. Also since my dosage was "only" 0.5mg of K, I thought it could be done in a faster way.

 

  (Actually all the time while being on benzos I never went over that 0.5mg... it's crazy how such a small dosage had the ability to mess me up so much, but it sure did.)

 

  So after a little more than a month of tapering, on October 21st, the day I will celebrate like my second birthday, I finally took the last dose of Klonopin. At that moment I made a vow that, no matter what, I would NEVER, EVER take another benzodiazepine or any other mind altering drug for that matter, ever again.

 

  (...and I haven't.)

 

  So it was all set to start on my long journey on the road to recovery.  The excitement and a sense of achievement were quickly substituted by slight concern however, since I had no idea what to expect and that was a bit scary. However, I knew that it was a road I had to take; there were no alternatives nor shortcuts. What was left was just to pray and hope that it won’t last too long.

 

 

PART II - On the (tricky) road to success

 

  I’m sitting in a classroom, listening to a lecture. “Listening” however, is a huge understatement. My vision is blurry, I’m feeling dizzy… the professor is talking about different processes used in waste water treatment but he might as well be talking about five different ways of how to cook an egg…. It wouldn’t make any difference; I had no idea what I was doing. My concentration was next to none. More significantly, a lot of times, while walking down the street, I felt disconnected and my derealization was sometimes so strong that I almost became a road kill on more than one occasion.

 

  Although my anxiety was still strong, it became less noticeable than while I was still on the meds. However I started having these strange irrational fears. Talking about them; what I experienced made no sense. I would be startled by every single strange sound or a flash of light. Actually during this time I was literally afraid of everything... the moon, my own shadow, even the dark. Here I was, a grown man, literally afraid of the dark.  Even as a little boy, I never sleept with a night light on; this time I had to leave it every night… and speaking of sleep, I still had it in very little amounts and on some nights I swear, I was dreaming while still being awake. The strangest experience I ever had…

 

  The myriad of other symptoms that were constantly going on/off were nausea, piercing migraines and my body going from hot to cold and back again, were I would be sweating for a couple of hours only to suddenly start shivering in cold. I had days when they would subside and days when they would all strike at once. It was a completely random process but still more manageable than the inferno of late August.

 

  So for most of the time I tried to surround myself with good people and do whatever possible in order to distract myself from the withdrawals that were present almost constantly. Spending time at the University, trying to socialize or do a fun activity despite having a complete lack of motivation for any such partaking... However, what mostly helped was just taking very very long walks. Being alone while listening to bands such as “TOOL, Pearl Jam, Rage against the Machine” and others, I was venting my hatred towards the world, but mostly towards myself: for how did I allow this to happen?

 

  On the days that I felt better, I would be so desperate to live and try to do so much that, in the end, it would set me back even further. How, for example, on days I wasn't a complete walking dead, I would go to play football only to have intense muscle pain and nerve burn which lasted for days afterwards; how after watching a live basketball match I would have tinnitus from hell that lasted painfully long;… heck, I even took on to participate in a University project for one local company, thinking how I can handle it easy… do I need to tell you how utterly useless I was for my group mates, as I stared like an lobotomized idiot at our every meeting?… but like I said, I was desperate to get my life back on track.

 

  However, what is also very worth mentioning is that I received an invitation from one of my supportive classmates, to move together at his house in the village of Ossuccio, overlooking the lake Como. It was a village filled with beautiful and secluded scenery, fresh Alpine air, and quietude. Also during the days after I moved, the colors of autumn were in full bloom; that entire area was simply amazing and living in such a place was just what I needed at that time. I might as well say how it was a perfect rehab center for me… Ha!

 

  (…and much later, his decision will prove to be the ultimate one which paved the way of my eventual recovery: Truly, he was a guardian angel in disguise.)

 

  So, (quoting PJ), I guess that “life was just like a box of benzodiazepines... you never know what you're gonna get.” I think this is probably the best way how I can describe those early days of my recovery. The constant up and down ride, never knowing with what I would be hit from one day to the next was a very tiring and difficult aspect to deal with. Still, my journey had only just begun and I remained motivated and had high hopes that this crazy ”Raoul Duke” phase will be over soon enough… or so I thought. Somehow I was chipping away at the time and slowly, pushing through the shellshock of benzo withdrawal misery, hours became days, days became weeks and weeks eventually became months as New Year’s Eve was soon approaching.

 

***

 

  So by the end of December, around 2 months after quitting and just before Christmas, I had my first night of real sleep. Practically the first one since this entire fiasco started back in May… this was more than half a year ago! This continued on for the next two nights, accompanied with an overall decrease of the intensity of most of my symptoms. So I was becoming very hopeful that a corner was about to be turned with my recovery and that I will kick start the year 2013 with a bang. Once the lessons had finished I booked a flight and went home for the winter holidays.

 

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be: after my arrival, as a couple of days had passed I was again getting progressively worse until one night I experienced something that resembled a genuine “short circuit”: I’m not a religious person but I swear, in the middle of the night as I slept I had one of the most intense nightmares of my life. Before waking up I literally heard something that resembled laughter of a creature most foul and utterly evil… and just as I became aware, but still not regaining my full senses, I became paralyzed, then later started shaking and felt shocks surging throughout my entire body, like I was being electrocuted. This lasted for probably around 10 seconds although in that moment it seemed like it lasted forever.

 

  The following day I became very sick again and most of the symptoms came back almost full force. Also for the first time, I started getting nights with zero sleep; my body simply failed to shut down. It was as if a switch has been pulled off inside my brain. My skull felt very tender and sore… and occasionally I experienced something I can only describe as “brain zaps”.

 

  On top of all that, I received yet another blow: just a few days before the New Year’s Eve, while playing football with my friends (which was the only thing that gave me some pleasure in those days, no matter how bad and tired I felt), I had an accident were I tore up my right ankle ligaments - something I never experienced before. At first I laughed and couldn’t believe it… that with all my troubles I now had to suffer with this too? I was taken to the hospital and basically celebrated the beginning of 2013 with a cast around my foot, in bed while watching TV… and still suffering with my withdrawal as well, which was becoming more intense each day.

 

  (“Happy new year… right?”)

 

  The days of January were long and dark. For most of the month I had to use the crutches because of my leg. The zero sleep nights were becoming a really difficult thing to swallow. I had more or less constant stomach pain, no appetite and as a result I was very weak. Tremors and chronic fatigue soon followed too. What was even stranger, my vision became very dim; almost as if my brain simply decided to decrease the brightness level and during periods of low light, I was practically blind. Also I started having a low-grade fever and was inflamed, but I had no virus or any real illness so to speak of.

 

  (The dreaded “benzo flu” that in the end took months and months until it was finally gone.)

 

  I don’t need to tell you how discouraged I felt. I remember just sitting up at nights, with my leg stretched out, unable to sleep, watching random TV shows and hating them because I was unable to focus, concentrate… even care. I was in a constant haze of tiredness and anger, a sort of round-the-clock disconnectedness, devoid of any emotion. During the day, I would be a brain-dead zombie that even walked like one, thanks to my injured leg… but the nights were even worse. I desperately needed some sleep and many times I was tempted to “take something” for it. It took great feats of discipline but I resisted that urge every single time. I knew that if I was ever to be whole again, taking any kind of medication was not an option.

 

  I lack any good words for it, really. It was a very dark month… a month in which I haven’t lived, but just existed. That was all.

 

  As the month was about to finish, I was finally able to walk somewhat normally and I took my return flight; still completely sleep deprived, feverish, aching, in pain… accompanied by a dysfunctional brain. Still I was well enough to embark upon that trip and felt a tiny drop of optimism forming… but seeing how the entire month of January fared, do I need to tell you how that drop quickly evaporated. Yet another harsh blow, after I received some really bad news from home: our family business, the one we had since 2004, was on the ropes; just one step away from bankruptcy. This happened practically two days after I landed.

 

  So February came along. I was back in Italy… back in Ossuccio, the place of my refuge. I was broke: both in health and money… and I was in a foreign country, basically all alone with zero cash and a maxed out credit card. My resolve to go on was being put to the biggest test and I often wondered about the point of going on further like this. I was completely overwhelmed and I thought a lot about just quitting my University and going home… only to quickly realize that I had practically nowhere to go; my family was completely unable to help me in any way. I had plummeted into a new low of my life.

 

  However, although it was painful, I was finally walking. How grateful I was for that! Despite many withdrawal symptoms that were still present, I was still alive and somehow functioning... and more importantly, I still had a roof over my head thanks to my guardian angel. In fact, his support turned out to be crucial in the coming months. It was by his insisting that I stay with him until I get well enough to help myself. Never have I experienced such generosity and if there is one person that deserves credit for me getting my life back, it was definitely him. At the time when I lost all my options, when I was left completely alone and sick, his decision to stick by my side is defined as one of the key moments of my eventual recovery.

 

  My spark hasn't been extinguished yet…

 

    More importantly, I finally came to terms with my withdrawal and accepted it as it is. I simply surrendered to the fact that I couldn't possibly now when I would feel good… or if I will ever really recover for that matter. A very saddening thought that caused me much grief; when I would browse through facebook and see how many of my friends were enjoying and living life while I often wondered if my time would ever truly come. Nonetheless, I knew that I have to push through all the pain and misery. That I have to try and live my life as much as it is feasible to do; that withdrawal is what it is: it has a mind of its own.  I could not wish it away or make it disappear any quicker. So the best thing I did was to stop fighting it and try to remain positive, which wasn't easy at all. Also I finally accepted the fact that no one will ever truly understand this sickness I was going through, no matter how much I would try to explain. So I've simply stopped doing it. In fact, a lot of times I simply pretended like nothing happened and on the surface, I looked relatively alright. Except a few people who were close to me, most of the others I encountered had no idea what was happening… as I often forced a smile and tried to do my best to act “normal” despite all the pain I suffered each passing day.

   

  Weighing my options, I figured the only action I could take that might actually shorten this process, was to live in the healthiest possible manner. I knew that besides making certain lifestyle changes, there was nothing else I could really do; certainly a cure for a benzo withdrawal didn't exist and going to any doctor would make no sense… actually, they were the bastards that got me into this hell in the first place!

 

  I changed my diet so it consisted mostly of fresh and organic food; I cut off all soda, most sugary and packaged foods, coffee and alcohol… basically all the good stuff, right? Also I started practicing meditation and slowly developed certain coping skills that I would use to counter all the “little devils” in my head.

 

  So during this time, the winter was still very mild with almost no snow and quite a few sunny days as I recall. On the days I felt well enough I would go for a short jog around the narrow mountain roads, trying to strengthen my injured right foot while marveling the beautiful countryside… and let me tell you something about Ossuccio and Lake Como: It was truly a heaven on earth. In a radius of some 3 to 4 kilometers there are mountain roads overlooking the lake, narrow cobblestone pathways with picturesque houses that were filled with many plants species and beautiful flowers, historical villas next to the sandy beaches, many small chapels that run along the mountain, forests… even a small canyon with a waterfall! A place so serene and tranquil, that on a sunny day, in whichever direction you look, the beauty just takes your breath away.

 

  (On the days I felt worse, the only thing I needed to do was just step outside of the house and my spirits would be immediately lifted.)

 

  The winter exam period was well underway. However I had other priorities; getting better and finding a job, so it was not surprising that I have managed to pass just one. Actually, given my situation back then, I consider this a huge achievement! What was even better, after many days of searching, I finally got an offer to work as a waiter in one fancy restaurant located at the lakeside.

 

  Hmmm… wait a minute… a waiter? I remembered my days back in US, when I was waiting tables and fixing cocktails, how stressful and physically demanding that job really was. The big question of doubt I asked was: “… am I able to?”

 

  I worked for one month. That was how long I've lasted until I got completely fed up… not just because I was still sick, but also because the place was terrible! Although initially, the guys working there were nice to me, after a little more than a week, they showed their true colors. The guy who was “supposed to train me” was this kid who probably had less experience than I did, yet he was bossing me like a dog. Being a new guy I complied until I had realized that he won’t budge. The guys in the kitchen were major f-ups and the manager was this older woman who couldn't have cared less. Despite telling them how I needed a ride back home after each night shift, since the public transportation was not available, I often ended up hitchhiking my way back or calling my host to pick me up. The entire system on which they were working was so screwed up that I simply couldn't keep up with. Eventually, once the month had passed, I said goodbye: solely to the cleaning guy from Sri Lanka (who was the only decent guy in that entire place)… and left the place for good.

 

  How great it felt! Not only was I feeling much better by just leaving that crap hole but more importantly, I managed to prove to myself that despite still being sick, I was able to work under pressure. This fact gave me a huge confidence boost.

 

  So, I guess I was getting slightly better after all. As the spring came, my anxiety finally disappeared along with all the crazy and irrational fears I had, which just proved how the “anti-anxiety” drugs I was taking were the actual CAUSE of it. What a sham. My thinking power had slightly increased to as my brain finally shifted to the 2nd gear… still slow but better than before. My constant state of inflammation was still present but much milder now and my body was a lot less sensitive to changes in the temperature.

 

    I even remember one morning after waking up, I stepped outside the house and was amazed at how vivid everything looked illuminated by the sunlight. It was just like I had HD vision, as if a veil was finally lifted from my eyes and all the dimness was finally gone. My vision was back.

 

  However, I was still a long way from being healed. The insomnia was still relentless and I can’t remember if I was ever able to sleep for longer than 2-3 hours a night. Chronic fatigue and tremors were still present and I had this general feel of weakness. My muscles were painful and even while resting they used to twitch a lot. On some occasions, out of nowhere I would get an adrenaline spike, for which afterwards I had to be constantly on the move only to be crashing later on followed by a feel of nerve burn. I even had this wave of piercing stomach and intestinal pain that would switch on and off precisely after each week… and I bunch of other little bugs I had, that I probably already forgot about as I write this.

 

  Soon I started having glimpses of normality, where on some rare days I felt almost like my old self, almost completely symptom fee. “So this is how most guys feel all the time?” I thought to myself as I almost forgot how good it felt just being normal. Even though those days were still far and apart from one another, that is when I slowly became a believer that full recovery is possible, although I was still oblivious as to when would that day would exactly come.

 

  The sunny days of late April were about to finish as for the first time, I finally realized how far I've come: from the drugged up nightmare of last summer, to the shocking epiphany and my defiance of autumn; from the purgatory and horrors of winter to the glimmer of hope that came along with the spring.

 

  Eventually, the time had come for me to leave my sanctuary and return back to my University place; like a little bird that just left its nest and needed to learn how to fly, despite being worried of facing many uncertainties of the outside world. Even though at that point I was still very fragile, I looked forward to living on my own once again. It was the only logical step forward on the road to my complete recovery. So thanks to one of my good friends, I got a nice and spacious room with a huge balcony, close to the city center. I was looking forward to immerse myself fully into a student’s life once again.

 

  Once I settled down I got hit with a big wave of symptoms, a sort of reminiscence of practically all the symptoms, both physical and mental I ever had throughout this crazy journey. It was unbelievable; as soon as one was finished, it was replaced by another. This grand flashback lasted for roughly two weeks. I became really, really discouraged. “Will it ever end?” I thought to myself once again as I almost broke down, crying…

 

    Then it finally happened. In the early days of June, one by one, the symptoms would leave and not return...and this time it felt much different. This was when I knew that I was completely recovered ... and yes, one day I finally woke up without any pain, without any anxiety or any fear… and everything in my life was normal again. I was finally at peace and all the craziness simply evaporated. I couldn't believe it at first but yes, it was finished… it was all over.

 

  My chains were broken; I was set free at last… The best, most intense feeling I ever had.

 

***

 

  Summing it all up?

 

  I still remember how hard was to get up each morning and face the challenges of each passing day. How hard it was forcing myself to try and live like nothing happened and to go on with my business. But deep inside I knew that it was the only way to do it if I was ever to be OK again. I had too much to live for and I knew I didn't want to give up, that I desperately wanted to fight through all the pain and misery so I could maybe on day live like I used to. However, for too many times I was doubting my own ability to fight on, and the endless questions, like splinters in my mind, where constantly bugging me: “Will I be like this forever? Maybe this isn't withdrawal from benzos anymore… I’m probably permanently damaged”. Going through this constant torment of doubt was really hard to deal with.

 

  (However, rest assured that it all DOES go away... really.)

 

  Of course, I did a lot of things to make my withdrawal easier and to make the time pass quicker... but in the end, it was solely TIME that was the true healer. No matter how much I doubted during my difficult periods, now I realize that all the guys who recovered before me were indeed telling the truth... and as time passed on, somehow I knew that I was getting better and deep inside I could just feel it and I knew that one day I would be right where I am now. That one day I would finally reach for the surface and fully breathe in life once again.

 

  Right now, looking back on that long list of symptoms I wonder:  "Did I really go through of all that?” It is truly amazing as to the amount of punishment, both mental and physical, a human body can withstand and still recover and I’m now a firm believer that with proper nutrition, sports and some good lifestyle changes you can really go a long, long way.

 

  Also, I am starting to think more and more how certain rewiring of my brain happened during this experience. While going through this “temporary brain damage” my neurons and receptors surely had to adapt and work overtime after all the havoc that these poisons had caused. Now that I have finally recovered, sometimes I feel as I've practically become immune to stress. Most of the time I’m cool as a cucumber… and I let tons of negative energy just slide right off me. After all, once you go through an ordeal like this, everything else seems just silly really. I have such clarity of thoughts, and speed in which I process them that sometimes it feels like sometimes my neurons are being supercharged.

 

  For a long time I had worried that I won’t be the same after this: that I will become bitter and resentful… scarred by this terrible experience. However, on the contrary the complete opposite happened: right now I have much love, compassion and a much higher understanding of the human condition and all its wondrous ability but also its fragility. In fact, I've learned so much by spending time on BB that I feel as if I have a Bachelor's in Neuroscience!

 

  Regarding my insomnia, I have to admit, that department is still a bit off and I suppose that given the severity of it during my withdrawal, it might take a bit more time for it to settle down. However, even if I still don’t sleep as much as I would like to, I have the deepest and intense dreams ever and during most of the days I feel quite good and well rested.

 

  Oh and by the way, remember those panic attacks? The initial cause I got into the benzoland in the first place? Well, ever since the beginning of May ('12) and just when I was about to get myself into this entire mess, they were gone. To this day, I never had another one since, not even a single one. Even while suffering with hundreds of other intense mind boggling symptoms during my withdrawal; they were never one of them. I guess that they were simply a result of a transient feel of unease and accumulated stress that passed away after about two or three months… that was it, nothing more than that.

 

  (Actually, now it is quite painfully obvious that I had reached tolerance as soon as 2 weeks had passed after my initial Xanax dose… and that my body went haywire. Yet every single doctor failed to realize that and thus I remained poisoned by them for the next 4-5 months; until I finally discovered the truth - on my own.)

 

  So, looks like sometimes Life has quite a sense of irony, right?

 

 

PART III - The future is bright

 

  These last few days, as I looked back at the calendar, I realized that my suffering has actually lasted for more than one year. Honestly I still have no idea how the heck I made it; this was, without a doubt, the hardest thing I have ever done. My biggest fear about never recovering and being damaged for life was completely gone as the last remnants of my symptoms slowly vanished: almost as if I had finally awoken from a never ending nightmare and the memory of it slowly fades away.

 

  All the challenges I had to face along the way and fighting through all the pain and suffering was well worth the struggle. I discovered so many things about myself: that I can be extremely determined and tenacious person if needed; that I possess great inner strength and an iron will… and most of all that I have a huge lust for life that in the end, just kept me going. Through all the hardship and misery I had endured, I am now literally, a man reborn.

 

  So, how am I right now? The truth is: I feel great, almost better than I can even remember! By experiencing all the confusion, the misery, the pain, and the uncertainty of withdrawal has given me a completely new perspective on life and now I walk with a newfound confidence and a sense of optimism. After all, what I have just survived, I am now ready to take on whatever destiny throws onto my way. My spark is lit once again and it burns with a flame that was never as strong as it is right now. I guess that, in a weird way, I am glad I went through this benzo withdrawal. It made me a better person and I learned a lesson that will serve me until the end of my days...

 

***

 

  Also, it is amazing how life can completely turn around for the better: a couple of months ago I received an offer to work for one major environmental company, my boss is one of the nicest guys you could ever work for and my associate a lovely Ukrainian girl… I’m getting ready to slowly put my studies to an end, the summer is finally here and with it I look forward to some great times ahead and a lot of catching up to do.

 

  Almost every morning once I get up, I blast Pearl Jam’s “Life wasted”, a song which became something of my own personal anthem… and I look forward to what each day will bring.

 

  I’m back…

 

 

  Conzumed (no more...)

 

 

P.S. So this was the trimmed version of my complete story. If anyone would actually like to read it fully, I can send you the .pdf version.

 

P.P.S. Also soon, I will prepare an addendum just for you guys, in which I will specifically write about all the stuff I think helped me through out this journey... and any answers to questions you guys might have.

 

P.P.P.S Sorry for posting such a long story!!

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Congratulations on writing your success story, Conzumed.

 

Your benzo experience certainly has not had any everlasting or deleterious  consequences affecting your ability to write.  What a well-written account detailing your journey from hopelessness to hope.

 

Considering all that you had to endure on your journey to be free from benzos, and then continuing on to a complete and joyous healing from what has to be one of the most confusing, painful, and discouraging events in your lifetime - writing your success story is quite a profound milestone, something that you can be very proud of.

 

I wish you the very best in whatever the future holds in store for you.

 

pj

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Wow Conzumed,I didn't think I could gather the mental energy it took to read the book you have written here,but this must be a sign that I'm getting better because I read it,and I'm glad I did.What a beautiful inspirational,beautiful,and valuable story.Goodluck,and thanks.
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Conzumed you just made my day!

I so want to hear about the healing right now!

Its suoer-great that you feel even better and stronger than before.

And congratulations of course!

magga

 

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Amazing and well written story!  The power of this forum is told in the middle of your story.  So important to so many of us.  :)

 

This will give encouragement and hope for a long time, my friend.  Thank you for this.

 

 

Challis

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Thank you, thank you for sharing your incredible, beautifully written story.  You put words to the experience that are very relatable and validating for me. You've given me more hope. I loved hearing about how life is even better now than before benzos.

Congratulations on your recovery!

 

Healingnow

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That is a fantastic story. My story is so similar to yours except that I started on xanex as a muscle relaxer. Had a bad reaction to it within a few weeks. Went off of it not knowing you had to taper. Was put on kalonapin for depression. Never was anxious or depressed before. Doctor said I should be fine as I stopped xanex 5 weeks prior. Had a paradoxical reaction to kalonapin. Doctor said I never heard of that. Take more. Take an antidepressant. I never took an antidepressant. I knew it was the drug, but i had to find the right doctor to get me off of it. I was on .50 mg. .25 in the morning and .25mg at night. It truly f'd me up big time. Finally was titrated off of it. Completed 9 months out and have these sxs left:internal tremors, benzo flu, sometimes tight right jaw and back of neck and nervy burning/stinging body pains. You really gave me hope. Would like to hear what you did as far as coping skills. I, too, go out and carry on, but it is hard. Working can be tough, but I keep at it.
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Hi Conzumed. Dude ! Wow! I could not stop reading your success story. You are an awesome writer. All through your journey it would remind me of similar Sx's that I have a hard time articulating. I have only known you a few weeks from the ginkgo thread but your success story has made my day. Thank you for sharing it!
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Conzumed,

 

As others have said you write so well, thank you for sharing your story with us here. I know many of us can find commonalities between your benzo experience and our own.  Sad but true, so many of us were completely unaware and uninformed about these types of medications. I am certain I was tolerant to the Ativan the ENT put me on within 4 weeks. After all, I did occasionally miss a dose to check how my "ears" were doing and became deathly ill.

 

I am so happy that you are in such a good place now.  Being benzo free and healed is just amazing!

 

pianogirl

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Conzumed,

 

Your story is truly inspirational.  Thank you so much for posting it.  I am so glad that you have finally healed from the hell your mind and body went through.  It gives me hope that our bodies can heal if given time.

 

Alfree

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Holy Crap.....is what I thought when I seen how long your story was....then I started to read.  And what a fine story it is. It moved me.....Your a great writer. I can relate to a lot. soooooo happy for you and getting on with your life.    Jude  :smitten:
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Great story Conzumed! Congratulations.  :highfive: Thank you so much for sharing. I needed this today. :) It seems we have the same anniversary. I to am 9 months 1 week and 3 days as of today. I'm still healing and feel that i am close. I am ususally having a few days or so of waves and then around 2 weeks at a time of somewhat windows.

Thanks again

 

Lexi :)

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Wow, I'm overwhelmed... thank you so much for your heartwarming replies, I'm very glad that my story was able to give hope and encouragement... it's the least I could have done.

 

It just makes me gutted to see such nice people as all of you, having to go through such a miserable experience as this benzo withdrawal is... but really, keep on pushing on that road towards freedom, no matter what... and more sooner than later, you will all reach it, I'm sure of it.

 

Oh and what a feeling it will be... this was a true metamorphosis for me.

 

In the next couple of days I will fly for a two-week holiday, but once I return I will write that addendum that I promised.

 

Wish you all the best and talk to you soon.

 

C.

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Dear Conzumed,

 

Thank you so much for your story of healing.

I am in my 3rd week of huge wave....in my 9th, almost 10 month...

Thank you for saying again that you did not believe you would ever heal...and all the other familiar complaints that go along with WD..

I wish you continued healing and a wonderful life..Drug free...

Take care of yourself....I look forward to reading your addendum...

Thank you so much for coming back and leaving those of us that are in your wake a positive message of hope...

Blessing upon you,

Causing

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  • 2 months later...
Hi Consumed, I would love to hear the whole story of your recovery. This was very inspirational, as I am almost 5 months off, and it has helped instill some hope! I have a very similar story, because I too didn't have a good reaction to the meds (was on for 3 months, including rapid taper).  Hope life is all you dreamed it would be, and congrats on your recovery! Thank you for sharing your story!
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  • 4 weeks later...

Hey everyone!!

 

I guess I'm quite overdue with my update... but I'm finally back to deliver it like I said.

A lot has happened in that time... so let's see:

 

ADIE:

It's great that you are still very much active on the ginkgo thread, reaching out to others continually all this time just shows what great character you've got... and I see it has something like 135+ pages now?? Wow, looks like you guys made some breakthroughs and are doing an excellent job!

I'll keep your word for the San Francisco visit! (if I manage to leave Italy that is...).

 

PJ:

I can't thank you enough... not just for this comment but for all of your posts that helped me so much when I was down & out. You have no idea how much they meant to me.

I just hope that one day I'll meet you in person and shake your hand.

 

LADIES ECKHART, MAGGA and HEALINGNOW:

I'm very glad and humbled if my story did manage to give you a lift in some way. I hope you have all healed a lot and doing much better now. I'm doing great and I sincerely hope you will all reach this stage too!

If you ever need something feel free to send me a PM.

 

JAZZY and LEXI65:

I remember reading your posts before and I had always felt that our "up and down" patterns were very similar... I guess I was maybe a bit more lucky and healed faster. However, by reading your stuff I concluded that both of your seem very strong, determined and optimistic that you will be healed soon and I can only say: push on like you did so far!

I think you are almost there...

 

...and Jazzy, where you really in Italy??  :)

 

COLORADOPAWS:

I've read your success story... enough said.

Amazing and so happy for you!

 

INNADAZE:

Just by looking at your signature line, I can see you've been through some really rough times. I hope your healing pattern will stay on course and upward.

 

PIANOGIRL AND CHALLIS99:

Thank you so much for your comments... but more significantly thank you for being here for us and for smoothly running this wonderful forum.

 

ALFREE99, HEYJUDE, FULLOFLIFE, CAUSINGPAIN and IHOPE2LAUGH:

Stay strong and keep believing you will get there! Honestly I have lost track of how many times I was asking myself "will I ever heal?"...and then I was healed... and then when I thought that "ok, this is it", it even got better too!

 

*************************************************************************************************

 

I will all explain in this update finally...so here it is:

 

(...and sorry if I get a bit philosophical on the subject too  :laugh: )

 

 

The Update

 

Firstly, I have a confession to make: Looks like I wasn't "really healed" when I posted this story back in July 30th... because I actually still continue on getting better and better too! I even had something of a minuscule wave exactly at one year off... but it was nothing really and now I feel amazing.

 

So, what I can say is: don't worry about your progress, i.e. "how many % you are healed" or "when will I reach 100%??"... because it's really not that important. At one moment you will simply reach a point when you are doing mostly ok... a point when you are finally content with how much you are healed... Sure you still might get some waves and all, but overall, you'll be good.

 

What makes it even better is that after that point you will of course still continue to heal and you will feel even better.

 

I like to call this a "opposite benzo brain"... for example, before if you had moments when you doubted your healing, now what happens is that you think to yourself: "ok so I guess I'm healed and this is how it is...", only to be later disproved when you realize that you are still improving. So instead of doubting your healing in the coming months now you are enthusiastic and wondering what will they bring and if it will be even better than it already is.

 

Ok, not sure if I made sense with this but summing it up: keep the faith, you WILL be healed... and then you will still have healing on top of that healing  ;D

 

(My example: I had this line or floater in my right eye vision... it was quite big, always present and very annoying... it was there practically from day 1... so that in the end, I was convinced that it was either staying forever, is a part of some other problem or whatever... and puff, one day it was simply gone, never to return. So even when you think you are healed, you can still get pleasantly surprised)

 

Supplements and food:

I still think that with the supplements, the less is more. Ok, maybe I'm a bit biased because most of them were never really of help to me and I know a lot of people here had some very good experiences. So I'm not pushing for one side or the other.

 

I will just say that for me, despite trying out a lot of stuff the only supplements that I think were helpful to me, the ones I DID take on a regular basis were:

- Magnesium (Parker's "doctor's brand"): never more than the regular daily value dose - and magnesium never actually helped me to sleep or calm down... but it did play a role in regulating my heartbeat and BP I think.

- Zinc: I think its an important mineral in a lot of ways...

- Vitamin C: there is one nice brand here in Italy, its chewable, great tasting and no artificial sweeteners and stuff. So I was taking around 1/2 or 1 tab a day (1000mg/tab). It was good at warding off flu and there is a definite connection with the adrenals I think since everytime I took it 30mins before working out I felt much better. (I was suffering from exercise intolerance for a while so this was a true benefit - Thanks to Adie for this find!)

- and finally Ginkgo: When I felt that I kinda stalled in my healing, I think this was of significant help. Of course I don't have any real evidence but ginkgo gave me a final push, I'm certain of it. If someone doesn't yet know, there is a great thread in the alternative section and it's definitely worth to check out.

 

Right now I only take Vit C and occasionally zinc.

 

As for the food, I never really made any drastic changes. I simply ate a lot more veggies, nuts, legumes and fruits, mostly raw organic or just boiled in water, bread, some cheese and pasta, a bit easier on the meat, drank a lot of water or herbal tea and stayed away from coffee, sodas and alcohol. Also milk - I was sensitive to it.

 

However, if I wanted some chocolate or maybe some spicy food at times, I would have it too... In my opinion, it is essential to maintain small pleasures and indulgences... even if I sometimes felt bad I never regretted it!  :laugh:

 

Now I can eat whatever I want... no problem at all.

 

So IMHO I think it's better not to complicate things with some crazy "new age" diet plans... unless you are really sensitive to some types of food, just eat what you like but always try to use quality ingredients.

 

(Also, regarding alcohol, I slowly introduced it back 2 months ago... for now I'm mostly staying on beer & wine and I didn't had any problems... of course I'm only a social drinker and usually I don't go too far with it.)

 

Exercise:

This one is important but don't overdo it. Even just walking or slow jogging is enough. Also swimming pool can be also very relaxing. Basically I was trying to be active for most of the days but every time I worked out too much, I had a flare up. So I was just listening to my body: If I felt I had the energy I would exercise, when I was tired I chilled at home... and for me, aerobic exercises were always much better for my mood while anaerobic (like in the gym) were not very helpful... lifting weights was a definite no-no, which was a shame since I used to be quite strong before.

 

Now I'm considering going back to the gym and testing myself again... but for sure I'll start slow.

 

So if you can, when you can, try to do some light exercise now and then... and taking Vit C before the workout seems to help.

 

Sleep:

This one was the worst for me... I can't even tell you how many times I was desperate for sleep and how many times I thought of taking something... and I'm sooo glad I didn't. In the end, what helped me to most was simply accepting it as it is: I knew that my body would eventually find some sleep it needs... that it has some sort of a "safety switch".

So after many, many nights of frustration and anger I just stopped fighting it... I would go to bed saying to myself: "ok, so maybe I wont fall a sleep but at least I'll meditate for the next 6-7 hours...lol". A lot of times I was in a strange state of half awake/half asleep so time did pass somewhat faster too.

 

So this one was very though but eventually I stopped caring... actually it's not that I stopped caring but I simply became fed up of thinking about it... and strangely that helped the most... together with the passing of time, of course. I stopped having "before bed rituals", I stopped worrying about what I would eat before bed or at what time I would go to bed or get up... I realized sleep restriction therapy wouldn't work for me since again I would have to think a lot about my sleep and all... so finally doing nothing about it and not thinking about it was the most helpful.

 

Easier said than done... but I managed it somehow.

 

Battling the "Benzo Beast":

Ok here comes the fun  :laugh:

 

In my case the beast took on many forms: it attacked me with fatigue, stomach pain and nausea, benzo flu, anxiety, depression, tinnitus and so on... It was though but I had to fight it, there was no other choice. Luckily enough, the heaviest of anxiety and depression did leave after 2-3 months and then I've took control.

 

So, the way I viewed anxiety was just in it's physical form: I knew that the sole reason for it is simply my current state of down regulated GABA. I was somehow able to put any feeling of anxiety to the side and I always viewed it in a completely rational way. Because in reality that was it, nothing more: just receptors, neurons and all that... nothing "psychological" about it, right?

 

(At least that's how I rationalized...)

 

Depression was nasty too... a lot of times my iPod was my best friend. Good music is definitely food for the soul... and a lot of times I was taking very long walks and just immersed myself in my favorite sounds.

 

Later on, as I was getting better, I became very stubborn... for every "what if" question the benzos whispered to me I would try to answer by doing the exact opposite, no matter how bad I felt. If I ever had doubts over my capability of doing something I would immediately get on to it and at least try. I even coined a phrase for this: "spanking the benzo beast"  :laugh: ... and it was really a war between the two of us.

 

Sure, at some days I was unable to and had to concede to "it" but I knew that eventually I would have the upper hand. So I was constantly testing myself and my limits until eventually there was nothing I couldn't do anymore and I was truly healed.

 

In my opinion, this was essential for reclaiming my life back.

 

(Ok I'm a bit philosophical again... sorry :) )

 

For example, a lot of times even if I was sleep deprived or aching, I would go out with friends or try to do some other social activity. Forcing myself to be outside with the people always gave me a much needed dose of normality. What I mean is: I already felt bad, nothing I could do about it... but there was still a choice: of spending my time in the room and miserable or taking with people and having fun despite being miserable.

 

(Now when I think about it, I've lost count of how many non-alcoholic cocktails I took during those times and all the excuses I made when the others looked at me funny :laugh: )

 

Of course for some symptoms, there was really nothing else I could have done... so I just waited. Then waited some more.

 

Until they were gone...

 

*************************************************************************************************

 

Well, that's it, I hope this helps a bit. Maybe I could have written more but to be honest, now I'm actually starting to forget a lot of the things that happened during my recovery... and I consider that a very good thing indeed.

 

So, take good care of yourselves and I wish to you all the best of health!

 

Saluti da Milano,

 

Conzumed (no longer...)

 

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Yes I did go to Italy in mid Aug. I went to Venice, Florence, Sorrento, Positano, Cinque Terre, Pisa, Capri and Sienna. Loved it. Italy is beautiful. Thanks for your encouraging words. Hoping for this to be over real soon.
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Thank you for writing this story and update.

 

I'm in my 4th month of Klonopin and still have some very hard days.

 

I'll read your story and updates every time I need to know "someone has done this and they are healed now" and I can too...least that what I'm hoping and praying for. I think I wonder still at times if this is it? and I' am I just damaged from this stupid drug. Your posts are my light to my dark thoughts, my faith restored, I hope in a year mark for me that I can also write my story of complete healing.

 

Thank you,

Ann

Not still stuck anymore

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