Today May 28th, 2K17 I descended to the lowest place I have been since I began my recovery from dependency on prescription drugs.
I have wrote at length on these pages about the pain of withdrawals, the physical torture of life upended as I knew it for the last twelve years. What I left out was the emotional anguish: the embarrassment and shame I felt for my descent into the annals of addiction of one form or another.
I was Corey Britton, a parent, a student, a writer, a once successful business person. I have lived in almost complete and utter isolation from this fall from Grace and the realization that I have a problem with prescription drugs.
I can argue and refute till I am blue in the face that what I suffer from really isn't addiction: it is chemical dependence that my body has developed over the course of the last twelve years. It has mattered greatly that people believe I am not an addict, like the ones we don't want to associate with, the ones we don't trust, the ones we aren't friends with, the weak ones who can't say no to a drug or a pill. Fact is I am an addict, and today it has hit me like a concrete wall I smashed into riding my motorcycle, fullspeed without a helmet and without warning.
This secret of my medical detox from Xanax and Adderall has been shared here amongst friends and fellow addicts suffering just like me, but today I outed myself to a world I have carefully controlled and managed: my Facebook world. Sure, you think wha the fuck is Facebook right? Wrong, big wrong, for that matter. I am and was Corey Britton and I thrived on my Facebook pages with my myriad of friends and acquaintances with whom I shared the highlights and some of the lowlights over the course of three years. Now you are thinking, friends? Yes, these people were my friends, not just on the pages of Facebook, but on the phone and even sometimes in person.
My friends list was huge, as can be anybody's but I had a faithful and supportive following of people who knew my schooling was important to me, who knew about my daughter Bella, and lots of other antidotal matters that don't seem all that important but really were and are.
Since I went cold turkey off the opiates in January, I have pulled back to just about non-existent on Facebook. I shared I was in the hospital in March on a Cardiac floor, but spared them and myself the shame and humiliation of my TRUTH.
I had started a Facebook group after the elections and it was thriving before everything crashed and burned in January. Then, like the rest of my Facebook presesnce I abandoned all the things and people that mattered to me out of shame and embarrassment. Plenty of others talked about their struggles with addictions, but I was Corey Britton, I had it all together, and addiction was the LAST thing I was willing to contemplate or admit.
To this very moment I am uncomfortable with the idea of addiction in relationship to me; it is a chemical dependence of my body on drugs I took for years. Today I went to church, and as always I am inspired whenever I step foot into that welcoming and loving community of gentle souls. It was there as I was sitting in the back of the church all by myself that I decided today was the day I would tell my Facebook family my TRUTH about my addiction, however I want to look at it, and tell them I wssn't just missing because of being on a cardiac unit with stroke level blood pressure-which of course was all true as well.
I got really emotional and overwhelmed with guilt, shame, and humiliation as I started to write a shorter version of my story. I cried from a place so deep, so filled with pent up pain for all the suffering physically, emotionally, and psychologically I have endured over the months since January. Besides letting my family in, Stephanie knew and shared part of my journey, I have told nobody besides the sad souls at support groups some od my daily troubles.
Today I realized the deep seeded pain and anguish I have felt and haven't dealt with anyone except a new friend I met on Facebook that turned into a real friend via the phone thus far. He name is Stephanie too and she is amazing, a gift sent from my God who I feel comfortable talking to, and being honest. However, I didn't realize the pent up emotions that I haven't shared with anyone. I am not in therapy yet, and the support groups are not psychologically based or lend themselves to me sharing my deep seeded feelings.
I cried the entire time I wrote my story for Facebook, and my crocadile tears streaming down my face, and my heart opening up and bleeding were somewhat carthatic.
The response to my story on Facebook has been overwhelming and so amazingingly kind and compassionate. People have offered support, words of comfort, and words of encouragent, all while congratulating me on fighting the fight of addiction that I took into my own hands and tossed the opiates and imposed myself into a delirium of withdrawals that lasted for weeks.
I am relieved. Living with a secret especially one with my Facebook community was so hard because I couldn't partake in the Facebook world without coming clean with my story. I learned something new and completely inspiring: people when givern the truth are usually understanding amd willing to help in anyway they can. Facebok is a part of my life for better or worse, but for me it is for the better and today as I sit with my story on my Facebook f\eed, I am relieved and filled with warmth and comforted by the social media friendships that are so important to me at this moment and everyday thereafter.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2K17
Sunday, May 28, 2017
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Ode To A Playground
It is a few minutes before 1 am in the morning on Saturday morning. A year ago I would be sitting here juiced up on Adderall and coffee blogging away in a drugged induced haze of euphoria that was commonplace every day of the week. I would ride the high of the Adderall for 4-6 hours and then come down with my first dose of Xanax for the day.
Funny thing is I did realize at the time what a great gig I had going on at the time. The number of various pills was staggering and all were medically prescribed and I adhered to the prescriptions accordingly. I would spend the early morning hours tapped out on the mental steroid of Adderall and power my way through the wee hours writing or doing school work so hyper-focused that time just flew by and I hardly realized the time that elapsed during the first six hours of the new day.
I was so happy with my pills: uppers to start the morning and downers to compliment the uppers as they wore off and began to cause me grief with my central nervous system. I was comforted by my bottles of pills with recurring refills without any questions asked and the high dosages of pills was something that my doctors had determined many years earlier.
This medical detox of speedsplatt proportions has been nothing short of a head slam into a concrete wall. My body and mind has been jolted into a realm of unsavory side effects that most medical professionals have decided to ignore for the betterment of pharmaceutical detox at all costs no matter how long or how well I responded to the heavy duty drug regime I was enlisted in by the very white-coated doctors I trusted many years ago when I first embarked on this prescription odyssey.
Sitting here this early morning I miss the Adderall and the speedball affect of chasing it with Xanax hours later. I had the perfect gig going and yes I knew it at the time. I am hopeful to get back on the Adderall when I see the doctor again in a couple of weeks when we review how I am doing on the Valium taper I now am on to augment the medical detox on phenobarbital to get off of Xanax.
I am quite sure as I sit here I will find another doctor to prescribe both Xanax and Adderall again. It is only a matter of time that I find a doctor or I should say I get an appointment with a doctor I know who will give me the scripts I want to continue as a productive member of society.
This medical detox has been the hardest thing I have ever gone through and I am swiftly seeking to put an end to it as soon as possible with insurance and aligning with the right doctors.
I am finally to the point where I am out of bed and motivated to get organized and take care of my responsibilities that have been put on the back burner for months as I laid in my bed writhing in delirious withdrawals and side effects from the abrupt absence of drugs my body was used to ingesting for the past twelve years.
It has been almost exactly two months since I was discharged from the hospital following my phenobarbital taper off of Xanax. I have organized my house, taken care of significant paperwork, cleared out clutter and duplicitous belongings I had collected over the years, and worked with school to gather the requisite paperwork necessary to return to school and classes in the fall.
I have made immense strides in just two months since leaving the hospital. The day and the days immediately following my discharge from the hospital I was better than the days and weeks that followed and the real withdrawals settled into my bones and brain. I was seen by a team of visiting nurses for the first month following my discharge, and those days were some of the worst moments I have lived to talked about. It wasn't until the last three weeks with the help of my family that I got myself motivated, started believing in myself again, and started organizing my home with the help of Stephanie. We thought about moving for a change of scenery but with my daughter, Bella, still in the Dover school district, we opted to stay put.
I romanticize about the days of on-going scripts and refills and the satisfaction I had from taking the Adderall and combination of Xanax. I am struggling this morning with finding my mojo to continue forward in my writing and in the organization I have started around the house this early morning. I am motivated in spirit but my mind and body are slow to follow and toss up road blocks that impede my ability to progress forward with determination and conviction.
What once was a playground of pills and merriment is now gone and the desolate bareness of my medicine cabinet reflects the dullness of my mind and spirit as I try to muster the energy to move ahead with day's responsibilities.
I might go to the store and purchase a coffee in hopes of bringing back some of the adrenaline of yesterdays gone past. I am flat in affect but my eyes are bright and my spirit is trepidatious without the effects of medication to alter my personality and propel me into the next dimension I seek to explore.
Questions of what if I don't find my way back to the medication, or what will become of me without medicinal fortification enter my psyche and cast shadows of doubts on my already fragile mind rocked by the absence of concoctions.
I believe I will head to the store in hopes of buying some relief in energy to push me forward into the dawn of the morning before the sun comes up and all is lost on this night that I wasted in vain wishing for times that no longer exist and yet seem so close to my reality.
I have broken down for the first time and gone to the 24 hour store and purchased five-hour energy cocktails. I have Adderall in the house but I don't dare take it now that I am on the Valium regime and can be subjected to drug screenings and pill counts. Oh how I want the feeling of an Adderall in my brain, making everything perfect and nothing out of the realm of possibility. Only Adderall has this affect and one that I will relish for a lifetime.
During the past two weeks we have contemplated moving abruptly to a new place and leaving this old life behind us. We have embarked in a frenzy of activity and de-cluttering as well as culling out clothes, shoes, books, jackets and lots of needless paperwork which I had held onto for far too long and just needed to trash. Last week alone on trash day, I tossed out over 9 large trash bags of just stuff, taking up room in closets and on shelves and in drawers.
I need to revel in the amazing trajectory of the last two months since my discharge from the hospital. If I can with the help of Stephanie make the strides I have both physically as well as peripherally I must have high hopes for the near future and the months and next few years to come. I single-handedly broke down the myriad of obstacles facing my well-being and methodically alleviated one item at a time starting with my physical well-being.
All this started with a new primary care doctor who referred me to a new psychiatrist who saw me the very next day. I was happy, but shocked that my situation could be so bad that I warranted a next day appointment on a Saturday, nonetheless. After meeting with the new psychiatrist and being understood and my pain validated, I was more than inspired to tackle the other obstacles in my life one line item at a time.
Through all of this upheaval, the best and most important situation has been the blossoming relationship with my daughter, Bella. My illness and hospitalization in early March, then my subsequent slow road to well during the latter part of March into May, has been hard on my relationship with Bella as I did not want her to worry or parentalize me as she needs to be a child without worries about her parent. We have been growing in new and beautiful ways with weekend get togethers and Sunday dinners and working on school projects where my muddied mind has been graciously clear enough to add significant value to her projects which have resulted in near 100 grades. The work was all Bella's but I infused my ideas in the way of concepts and conceptualizations for project development for various subjects. I have felt like a "real" parent for the first time in a long time.
Today I will attend a morning support meeting and then have a business meeting later this afternoon for a new endeavor I just might undertake. It is a surprising opportunity that I would be hard pressed to turn up if everything aligns correctly.
The 5-hour energy supplement kicked in and I took my puglet, Julia Bleu, for a walk and got some more things organized. I am upbeat about the future with this new Valium regime, hopefully it will eventually turn back into Xanax once it is determined that my body is in desperate need of it for maintenance.
Heading to the support club shortly to work on the computer and print out some paper work I am unable to print here at home.
The early morning went quite fast and I am feeling equipped to make the most of the day and push forward with a new adgenda that has me stepping outside my comfort zone for the first time in a long time.
Here is to 5-hour energy supplements which were just what the doctor ordered by way of Corey Britton's desires.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2017
Funny thing is I did realize at the time what a great gig I had going on at the time. The number of various pills was staggering and all were medically prescribed and I adhered to the prescriptions accordingly. I would spend the early morning hours tapped out on the mental steroid of Adderall and power my way through the wee hours writing or doing school work so hyper-focused that time just flew by and I hardly realized the time that elapsed during the first six hours of the new day.
I was so happy with my pills: uppers to start the morning and downers to compliment the uppers as they wore off and began to cause me grief with my central nervous system. I was comforted by my bottles of pills with recurring refills without any questions asked and the high dosages of pills was something that my doctors had determined many years earlier.
This medical detox of speedsplatt proportions has been nothing short of a head slam into a concrete wall. My body and mind has been jolted into a realm of unsavory side effects that most medical professionals have decided to ignore for the betterment of pharmaceutical detox at all costs no matter how long or how well I responded to the heavy duty drug regime I was enlisted in by the very white-coated doctors I trusted many years ago when I first embarked on this prescription odyssey.
Sitting here this early morning I miss the Adderall and the speedball affect of chasing it with Xanax hours later. I had the perfect gig going and yes I knew it at the time. I am hopeful to get back on the Adderall when I see the doctor again in a couple of weeks when we review how I am doing on the Valium taper I now am on to augment the medical detox on phenobarbital to get off of Xanax.
I am quite sure as I sit here I will find another doctor to prescribe both Xanax and Adderall again. It is only a matter of time that I find a doctor or I should say I get an appointment with a doctor I know who will give me the scripts I want to continue as a productive member of society.
This medical detox has been the hardest thing I have ever gone through and I am swiftly seeking to put an end to it as soon as possible with insurance and aligning with the right doctors.
I am finally to the point where I am out of bed and motivated to get organized and take care of my responsibilities that have been put on the back burner for months as I laid in my bed writhing in delirious withdrawals and side effects from the abrupt absence of drugs my body was used to ingesting for the past twelve years.
It has been almost exactly two months since I was discharged from the hospital following my phenobarbital taper off of Xanax. I have organized my house, taken care of significant paperwork, cleared out clutter and duplicitous belongings I had collected over the years, and worked with school to gather the requisite paperwork necessary to return to school and classes in the fall.
I have made immense strides in just two months since leaving the hospital. The day and the days immediately following my discharge from the hospital I was better than the days and weeks that followed and the real withdrawals settled into my bones and brain. I was seen by a team of visiting nurses for the first month following my discharge, and those days were some of the worst moments I have lived to talked about. It wasn't until the last three weeks with the help of my family that I got myself motivated, started believing in myself again, and started organizing my home with the help of Stephanie. We thought about moving for a change of scenery but with my daughter, Bella, still in the Dover school district, we opted to stay put.
I romanticize about the days of on-going scripts and refills and the satisfaction I had from taking the Adderall and combination of Xanax. I am struggling this morning with finding my mojo to continue forward in my writing and in the organization I have started around the house this early morning. I am motivated in spirit but my mind and body are slow to follow and toss up road blocks that impede my ability to progress forward with determination and conviction.
What once was a playground of pills and merriment is now gone and the desolate bareness of my medicine cabinet reflects the dullness of my mind and spirit as I try to muster the energy to move ahead with day's responsibilities.
I might go to the store and purchase a coffee in hopes of bringing back some of the adrenaline of yesterdays gone past. I am flat in affect but my eyes are bright and my spirit is trepidatious without the effects of medication to alter my personality and propel me into the next dimension I seek to explore.
Questions of what if I don't find my way back to the medication, or what will become of me without medicinal fortification enter my psyche and cast shadows of doubts on my already fragile mind rocked by the absence of concoctions.
I believe I will head to the store in hopes of buying some relief in energy to push me forward into the dawn of the morning before the sun comes up and all is lost on this night that I wasted in vain wishing for times that no longer exist and yet seem so close to my reality.
I have broken down for the first time and gone to the 24 hour store and purchased five-hour energy cocktails. I have Adderall in the house but I don't dare take it now that I am on the Valium regime and can be subjected to drug screenings and pill counts. Oh how I want the feeling of an Adderall in my brain, making everything perfect and nothing out of the realm of possibility. Only Adderall has this affect and one that I will relish for a lifetime.
During the past two weeks we have contemplated moving abruptly to a new place and leaving this old life behind us. We have embarked in a frenzy of activity and de-cluttering as well as culling out clothes, shoes, books, jackets and lots of needless paperwork which I had held onto for far too long and just needed to trash. Last week alone on trash day, I tossed out over 9 large trash bags of just stuff, taking up room in closets and on shelves and in drawers.
I need to revel in the amazing trajectory of the last two months since my discharge from the hospital. If I can with the help of Stephanie make the strides I have both physically as well as peripherally I must have high hopes for the near future and the months and next few years to come. I single-handedly broke down the myriad of obstacles facing my well-being and methodically alleviated one item at a time starting with my physical well-being.
All this started with a new primary care doctor who referred me to a new psychiatrist who saw me the very next day. I was happy, but shocked that my situation could be so bad that I warranted a next day appointment on a Saturday, nonetheless. After meeting with the new psychiatrist and being understood and my pain validated, I was more than inspired to tackle the other obstacles in my life one line item at a time.
Through all of this upheaval, the best and most important situation has been the blossoming relationship with my daughter, Bella. My illness and hospitalization in early March, then my subsequent slow road to well during the latter part of March into May, has been hard on my relationship with Bella as I did not want her to worry or parentalize me as she needs to be a child without worries about her parent. We have been growing in new and beautiful ways with weekend get togethers and Sunday dinners and working on school projects where my muddied mind has been graciously clear enough to add significant value to her projects which have resulted in near 100 grades. The work was all Bella's but I infused my ideas in the way of concepts and conceptualizations for project development for various subjects. I have felt like a "real" parent for the first time in a long time.
Today I will attend a morning support meeting and then have a business meeting later this afternoon for a new endeavor I just might undertake. It is a surprising opportunity that I would be hard pressed to turn up if everything aligns correctly.
The 5-hour energy supplement kicked in and I took my puglet, Julia Bleu, for a walk and got some more things organized. I am upbeat about the future with this new Valium regime, hopefully it will eventually turn back into Xanax once it is determined that my body is in desperate need of it for maintenance.
Heading to the support club shortly to work on the computer and print out some paper work I am unable to print here at home.
The early morning went quite fast and I am feeling equipped to make the most of the day and push forward with a new adgenda that has me stepping outside my comfort zone for the first time in a long time.
Here is to 5-hour energy supplements which were just what the doctor ordered by way of Corey Britton's desires.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2017
Thursday, May 18, 2017
Thursday Musings-Recovering From Recovery
I am up at in the early morning hours of this Thursday after heading to bed early in despair over the current state of my affairs. I am feeling somewhat better however I am still troubled and plagued by the withdrawals of my medical detox.
I started a protocol of Valium just about a week ago when I saw a new psychiatrist who diagnosed me with excruciating withdrawals which were the residual of a medical detox gone awry after a phenobarbital taper. I was honest in the hospital during the detox that my body was breaking from the detox and my words went unheeded by all the medical professionals in charge of my care. No one would listen to the screaming of my physical body from the abrupt stoppage of Xanax and Adderall after over twelve years of chronic use as prescribed by board certified psychiatrists.
A week into this Valium protocol I am feeling somewhat better but think my dose is still too low and the withdrawals are still rearing their ugly heads as I try to master each day as a somewhat normal person. Gone is the vacant stare in my eyes which had people not looking at me in the eyes and making them uncomfortable to talk to me.
Nothing is worse than knowing you are off and other people recognize it and react to you accordingly in a way that is off putting and stand-offish in a manner that says, "You are crazy and I know it." I lived through these times and these stares and grimaces and I pray I never have to live through them again. My eyes were always dilated and they never blinked-they just stared through people with a wild, far away look that spoke volumes that I was off-center. I was aware of my affect and couldn't change it, try as I might to look normal.
My physical manifestations weren't just in my eyes, they were in my gait, the way I carried my body, and even in the way I spoke. I shuffled when I walked and my arms swung along my sides haphazardly in a flinging motion. My voice which was always pleasant became monotone and flat in its affect with my mouth contorting on one side that was drooping leaving me with a crooked smile that made my eye slant and droop and crunch up whenever I tried to put on a halfway smile.
I was a sad case of medicine gone wrong, but even sadder that I hadn't lost my mind and knew exactly what I looked like to other people and to myself. I was keenly aware of people who wouldn't make eye contact with me and shied away from my usual pleasant face and demeanor.
The physical manifestations lent themselves to me questioning my mind and my right senses. I began to worry that I was losing my mind and slipping into the off-centered person I presented to the world. I cried loudly on the inside, but I couldn't articulate anymore and had lost the ability to advocate for myself. My self esteem plummeted and I became scared that my physical maladies were becoming my new limited mental capacities.
If it wasn't for this one doctor who diagnosed my withdrawals for what they were I don't want to think where I was heading to ending up. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy of mind over matter. I saw a primary care doctor who thought I was okay and that my fallout from detox was normal and acceptable. It wasn't until I started with a new primary care doctor three weeks ago, who saw a glimpse of the real me inside the mayhem of madness of detox that I was escalated the very next day to a new psychiatrist who as you already know diagnosed me properly.
I am so very grateful but remained fearful that I need Xanax or Valium to maintain my homeostasis. I presently am getting acclimated to the new dose of Valium and need to figure out if the dose is enough to quell the withdrawals and bring me as close to normal as possible. Once the appropriate dose of Valium is determined the plan is for me to taper down off the Valium and come off of it hopefully without any withdrawals.
My fear is that I need Xanax to function properly and as normally as possible. The Valium taper is a scary prospect to me as I just find myself inching back to normality. I look forward to meeting with my psychiatrist again and discussing my fears and apprehensions with her. I know I will look like an addict seeking drugs but my present history reveals much more than an addict's cry for more drugs.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2017
I started a protocol of Valium just about a week ago when I saw a new psychiatrist who diagnosed me with excruciating withdrawals which were the residual of a medical detox gone awry after a phenobarbital taper. I was honest in the hospital during the detox that my body was breaking from the detox and my words went unheeded by all the medical professionals in charge of my care. No one would listen to the screaming of my physical body from the abrupt stoppage of Xanax and Adderall after over twelve years of chronic use as prescribed by board certified psychiatrists.
A week into this Valium protocol I am feeling somewhat better but think my dose is still too low and the withdrawals are still rearing their ugly heads as I try to master each day as a somewhat normal person. Gone is the vacant stare in my eyes which had people not looking at me in the eyes and making them uncomfortable to talk to me.
Nothing is worse than knowing you are off and other people recognize it and react to you accordingly in a way that is off putting and stand-offish in a manner that says, "You are crazy and I know it." I lived through these times and these stares and grimaces and I pray I never have to live through them again. My eyes were always dilated and they never blinked-they just stared through people with a wild, far away look that spoke volumes that I was off-center. I was aware of my affect and couldn't change it, try as I might to look normal.
My physical manifestations weren't just in my eyes, they were in my gait, the way I carried my body, and even in the way I spoke. I shuffled when I walked and my arms swung along my sides haphazardly in a flinging motion. My voice which was always pleasant became monotone and flat in its affect with my mouth contorting on one side that was drooping leaving me with a crooked smile that made my eye slant and droop and crunch up whenever I tried to put on a halfway smile.
I was a sad case of medicine gone wrong, but even sadder that I hadn't lost my mind and knew exactly what I looked like to other people and to myself. I was keenly aware of people who wouldn't make eye contact with me and shied away from my usual pleasant face and demeanor.
The physical manifestations lent themselves to me questioning my mind and my right senses. I began to worry that I was losing my mind and slipping into the off-centered person I presented to the world. I cried loudly on the inside, but I couldn't articulate anymore and had lost the ability to advocate for myself. My self esteem plummeted and I became scared that my physical maladies were becoming my new limited mental capacities.
If it wasn't for this one doctor who diagnosed my withdrawals for what they were I don't want to think where I was heading to ending up. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy of mind over matter. I saw a primary care doctor who thought I was okay and that my fallout from detox was normal and acceptable. It wasn't until I started with a new primary care doctor three weeks ago, who saw a glimpse of the real me inside the mayhem of madness of detox that I was escalated the very next day to a new psychiatrist who as you already know diagnosed me properly.
I am so very grateful but remained fearful that I need Xanax or Valium to maintain my homeostasis. I presently am getting acclimated to the new dose of Valium and need to figure out if the dose is enough to quell the withdrawals and bring me as close to normal as possible. Once the appropriate dose of Valium is determined the plan is for me to taper down off the Valium and come off of it hopefully without any withdrawals.
My fear is that I need Xanax to function properly and as normally as possible. The Valium taper is a scary prospect to me as I just find myself inching back to normality. I look forward to meeting with my psychiatrist again and discussing my fears and apprehensions with her. I know I will look like an addict seeking drugs but my present history reveals much more than an addict's cry for more drugs.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2017
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Long Time No Speak
It has been quite awhile since I last posted. Lots has changed in my recovery as I am now taking Valium since my medical detox went awry and I was left in a perpetual state of withdrawals that left me with tremors and twitches in my face.
Everything changed a couple weeks ago when I saw a new psychiatrist who knew before she met me that I wouldn't be okay. She had read my medical history and was sure there was no way I could have detoxed off of Xanax in a fourteen day medical detox.
To say I wasn't right was an understatement of the grandest proportions. I was unable to think in complete sentences, my face was distorted with my eyes being unequal with one slanted downward that twitched every time I tried to smile my newly crooked smile. Looking at pictures from six months ago, I looked nothing like the picture.
I was unable to speak, write, and communicate in anyway possible. It was the most frightening time in my life.
Two weeks ago on a rainy Saturday, I went to meet with a new psychiatrist after my daughter, Bella, ran a road race. My ex-wife took me to the appointment and as usual I was skeptical. Upon meeting the new psychiatrist I was floored by her seemingly flat, non emotive demeanor. We proceeded to her office and she stared at her computer typing and asking me small talk questions. She told me she had read my history and much to my flat out shock she told me she specialized in benzo withdrawals. I knew nothing about her previously and this seemed too good to be true.
She went on to say that after twelve plus years on Xanax there was no way I could come off Xanax in a fourteen day medical detox. She went on to describe a book called Benzo Blues and went on to talk about all this research done in Europe regarding benzos and coming off of them.
Lisa is my psychiatrist's name and she went on to tell me I had two choices: to go to the one hospital in the country that offered an IV treatment of fluoxetine or to go on or a long acting benzo like Valium for the long term and taper off of that over time. My eyes welled up with tears as I realized this person understood my pain and was willing to help me.
I haven't written about my problems in recovery because they have been so crippling and made me unable to write in any coherent manner that resembled writing that looked like something I would have written. This nightmare odyssey has been more than I can handle and I felt I was disfigured for life with cognitive deficits that impaired me beyond my wildest nightmares.
For starters, my face was contorted in a twisted fashion with my eyes being uneven and my mouth extending further on one side. My eyes had a vacant, zombie look to them that made it so people didn't want to look at me. Coupled with my shuffling walk and arm that hung down and swung aimlessly I was an unspeakable sight and I that I was not able to write about. Living with these maladies was torture enough without actualizing them through writing.
The saddest part was I lost the ability to write openly and freely without pause. I couldn't think in full sentences never mind write in full flowing thoughts. It has been weeks or close to a month since I last tried to write or post a blog.
Everyone has kept telling me this would all get better but I knew it was permanent and never thought I would be put on Valium to help augment with the symptoms. Lisa, my psychiatrist, wants to hear from me in the next few days to see how I am doing and to see if I need to go up on my dose of Valium to completely eradicate the withdrawals. I think I am doing pretty well, although I still have slight withdrawals that might be adjusted with an increased dose in Valium.
This medical detox from Xanax has been nothing short of a science experiment gone wrong with me. The abrupt nature of the medical detox where Xanax was just whipped away cold-turkey and replaced with a phenobarbital taper was jarring and on top of the Xanax withdrawals I experience phenobarbital withdrawals in the short run as well. I have talked to people who said the phenobarbital withdrawals are worse in the short-run than the Xanax withdrawals.
I am relieved today but scared as the Valium is just a taper and not a permanent replacement until I start to make my case....yes I will make my case to go back on Xanax at a later date. My body is too reliant on it and does not function properly off of it clearly.
I have been taking the Valium less than ten days and already there are huge improvements in my physical and cognitive abilities. Stephanie, my fiancée, and my ex-wife have both noticed the difference in me as have the people at the support club where I go for meetings. My blood pressure has come way down, and I needn't take all the anti-hyper intensive medications I was on. I have wanted to write for a few days now, something I had no interest in doing before because the thoughts and the words were not there.
It is frightening when you lose the ability to write and speak when it once came so naturally. I ruminate over my decision to go in-patient for the medical detox as the fallout has been so cumbersome and so extreme in its after affects. I am resigned that the journey back to medication will not be easy or without peril as part of the road I must travel. The medical establishment has cultivated an attitude that benzos are bad and are abused by doctors writing the scripts and patients willingly taking the prescriptions.
I sit here in the early morning, calm and relaxed as well as sharp in my thinking and processing. I haven't taken any Valium this morning but will do so in just a little bit. My dosage is high because of the conversion from Xanax to Valium. I am taking 25mg three times a day as my 10 mg dose of Xanax equated to 100 mg of Valium a day. My insurance would not cover it nor would the pharmacy let me pay for it out of pocket, so I had to go to a community center pharmacy where they would fill it. Hopefully as time goes on, I will get switched to Xanax and my insurance will pick it up again.
I look forward to writing again and will post again today. I apologize for my long hiatus but the words sadly were not there.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2017
Everything changed a couple weeks ago when I saw a new psychiatrist who knew before she met me that I wouldn't be okay. She had read my medical history and was sure there was no way I could have detoxed off of Xanax in a fourteen day medical detox.
To say I wasn't right was an understatement of the grandest proportions. I was unable to think in complete sentences, my face was distorted with my eyes being unequal with one slanted downward that twitched every time I tried to smile my newly crooked smile. Looking at pictures from six months ago, I looked nothing like the picture.
I was unable to speak, write, and communicate in anyway possible. It was the most frightening time in my life.
Two weeks ago on a rainy Saturday, I went to meet with a new psychiatrist after my daughter, Bella, ran a road race. My ex-wife took me to the appointment and as usual I was skeptical. Upon meeting the new psychiatrist I was floored by her seemingly flat, non emotive demeanor. We proceeded to her office and she stared at her computer typing and asking me small talk questions. She told me she had read my history and much to my flat out shock she told me she specialized in benzo withdrawals. I knew nothing about her previously and this seemed too good to be true.
She went on to say that after twelve plus years on Xanax there was no way I could come off Xanax in a fourteen day medical detox. She went on to describe a book called Benzo Blues and went on to talk about all this research done in Europe regarding benzos and coming off of them.
Lisa is my psychiatrist's name and she went on to tell me I had two choices: to go to the one hospital in the country that offered an IV treatment of fluoxetine or to go on or a long acting benzo like Valium for the long term and taper off of that over time. My eyes welled up with tears as I realized this person understood my pain and was willing to help me.
I haven't written about my problems in recovery because they have been so crippling and made me unable to write in any coherent manner that resembled writing that looked like something I would have written. This nightmare odyssey has been more than I can handle and I felt I was disfigured for life with cognitive deficits that impaired me beyond my wildest nightmares.
For starters, my face was contorted in a twisted fashion with my eyes being uneven and my mouth extending further on one side. My eyes had a vacant, zombie look to them that made it so people didn't want to look at me. Coupled with my shuffling walk and arm that hung down and swung aimlessly I was an unspeakable sight and I that I was not able to write about. Living with these maladies was torture enough without actualizing them through writing.
The saddest part was I lost the ability to write openly and freely without pause. I couldn't think in full sentences never mind write in full flowing thoughts. It has been weeks or close to a month since I last tried to write or post a blog.
Everyone has kept telling me this would all get better but I knew it was permanent and never thought I would be put on Valium to help augment with the symptoms. Lisa, my psychiatrist, wants to hear from me in the next few days to see how I am doing and to see if I need to go up on my dose of Valium to completely eradicate the withdrawals. I think I am doing pretty well, although I still have slight withdrawals that might be adjusted with an increased dose in Valium.
This medical detox from Xanax has been nothing short of a science experiment gone wrong with me. The abrupt nature of the medical detox where Xanax was just whipped away cold-turkey and replaced with a phenobarbital taper was jarring and on top of the Xanax withdrawals I experience phenobarbital withdrawals in the short run as well. I have talked to people who said the phenobarbital withdrawals are worse in the short-run than the Xanax withdrawals.
I am relieved today but scared as the Valium is just a taper and not a permanent replacement until I start to make my case....yes I will make my case to go back on Xanax at a later date. My body is too reliant on it and does not function properly off of it clearly.
I have been taking the Valium less than ten days and already there are huge improvements in my physical and cognitive abilities. Stephanie, my fiancée, and my ex-wife have both noticed the difference in me as have the people at the support club where I go for meetings. My blood pressure has come way down, and I needn't take all the anti-hyper intensive medications I was on. I have wanted to write for a few days now, something I had no interest in doing before because the thoughts and the words were not there.
It is frightening when you lose the ability to write and speak when it once came so naturally. I ruminate over my decision to go in-patient for the medical detox as the fallout has been so cumbersome and so extreme in its after affects. I am resigned that the journey back to medication will not be easy or without peril as part of the road I must travel. The medical establishment has cultivated an attitude that benzos are bad and are abused by doctors writing the scripts and patients willingly taking the prescriptions.
I sit here in the early morning, calm and relaxed as well as sharp in my thinking and processing. I haven't taken any Valium this morning but will do so in just a little bit. My dosage is high because of the conversion from Xanax to Valium. I am taking 25mg three times a day as my 10 mg dose of Xanax equated to 100 mg of Valium a day. My insurance would not cover it nor would the pharmacy let me pay for it out of pocket, so I had to go to a community center pharmacy where they would fill it. Hopefully as time goes on, I will get switched to Xanax and my insurance will pick it up again.
I look forward to writing again and will post again today. I apologize for my long hiatus but the words sadly were not there.
Corey
BORN THIS WAY-2017
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