barbzilla said:
No, I feel that even socially acceptable drugs are drugs and can be addictive. So don't feel as though your story isn't worth telling as well. Most people forget that any chemical substance that goes in our bodies that alters our thinking/chemistry/mood is a drug. Everything from sugar to PCP.
Agreed then. Alcohol is a drug but it's socially ok to drink it after a certain age (or sometimes in the presence of parents or whenever, depending on locale), complete with all of the "YEAH ALCOHOL!" mentality it can bring with it. Sugar is the same way. I guess the poll answers didn't fit well for me so I wrote my story instead, or the short version. I didn't feel that my story wasn't worth telling -- it certainly has had some of its fair share of WTFs and "interesting" moments -- but I appreciate your reassurance. In all honesty, I believe everyone's story is worth telling.
Ok, well, reading more posts I realize you
do want the stories. I have a good one that may work. And share away; stories are meant to be told, never kept.
Right before I went to college, I was put on SSRIs for depression and anxiety by a nurse practitioner. Up to 80mg Lexapro (therapeutic dose is about 20mg iirc), ~30-60mg Wellbutrin, .5mg Ativan, and a rotating dose of something to help me sleep, all from Klonopin, mirtazapine, and Ambien (very new at the time). It took me a real psychiatrist and four years to get off all of those medications. Lexapro withdrawals would last days and give me paralyzing anxiety attacks that kept me from school and work. At the very end, when I was down to 5mg of Lexapro, I had to start making shavings, taking a dose every-other day, just to be sure that I could stand up without feeling dizzy. It was trying, it sucked, and I hated every minute of it but I was determined. I wanted to be off those drugs for myself. I also had a dream of joining the Marine Corps, where you can't be on any drugs at all, so that drove me as well. I wanted to be better so I made myself better. That, in hindsight, was easy compared to the other stuff I went through.
The last time I had problems with withdrawals was not really a withdrawal problem but an over-medication issue. Basically, I take a benzo, klonopin, three times a day to deal with anxiety. It also happens to screw with your REM sleep cycle, giving me a sense of never sleeping. For months I started to have various problems: napping after work, extreme fatigue, muscle aches, bags under my eyes, and cognitive problems. It became an issue when, after months of this, I was napping for hours after work, my legs hurt so much that I could barely walk ten minutes to my house from work, and I'd sleep for hours without every feeling I had closed my eyes. I never dreamed. It got worse. Eventually the time was always "wrong," I couldn't read, I could barely speak, walk, talk, or form a thought. And I cannot tell you how weird it was to KNOW, without doubt, that the clock was wrong yet KNOW, beyond a doubt, that it was right. Also very frustrating to stutter and stumbled right in front of your boss, not to mention a job security risk.
Anyway, my solution was a quick fix of a doctor's visit and a script for Ambien. I slept. I really, really slept. But I lost months of my life. I got through those months because I had support from all the people that mattered. My mom drove me to appointments and talked to doctors at work to try and find a solution. I had colleagues who understood I wasn't at my best. I had extended family who I could talk to without ever being judged. But, most of all, I kept telling myself "one more step." If you can do one more step you can do the next one. Even if you feel like you can't do anything more, you know you just accomplished a step, whether big or small, so anything after that can't be as bad. If you focus on the here and now, mindfulness, you'll notice that the days, the hours, the minutes, the steps get easier. Sometimes you fall down...and then you find a hand to help you up.
I've also watched my step-father deal with chronic pain in his leg that no one can figure out. He's gone through a dozen different solutions since I met him five years ago but he always stays positive. God knows how he does it, except he does. I think it's because, like me at one point, he wants to be a good, a better person and whoever you are inside is what counts. His body may be frail and weaker than it used to be yet he is one of the kindest souls I have ever met.
My advice, if I have any to give since I'm still trying to work my way off my own meds, is that your friend needs to do this for the right reasons, for himself, and hopefully he'll find peace in that. Being a better person, inside, is sometimes all that matters. And if he could find a mantra to keep him going may help too. I used "one more step" or "do the next right thing" to get me through the really hard spots. The famous AA motto also worked in a pinch. Focusing on something you believe in and can fight for makes it doable. He already knows it won't be easy, it never is, but the hard part was one step behind you, not in front of you.
As for you, the friend, being there even when he's being an asshole you'd rather kick then hug, just hug him. I was an irritable ***** before I got my anxiety under control but I'll always remember my family being there for me. They still hated it when I got to be that irritable ***** (usually when hungry) except they forgave me for any trespasses I may have made.
Drugs suck, no matter the kind or purpose. Life sucks, because I'm a pessimist. It's the moment in-between, the really good ones that make your stomach flip, your heart beat twice, and your smile stick on your ugly mug for the day that makes those really fucked up ones worth it. And, for me, I wouldn't have changed any of it, even the days I wished I had never gotten out of bed or opened my eyes. Otherwise, how would I be who I am without them?
/overly-supportive-and-saccharine-post
