Freedom from Medication Addiction

I wasn't going to share this, but quite honestly, I need all the love and support and understanding I can get right now. I am in the process of slowly going off a medication that my body is highly dependent on. I hate to use the word addiction, but that might be accurate. Tapering down causes great anxiety, insomnia, headaches, and a whole other plethora of possible symptoms that I'm hoping to avoid. The worst part for me is the anxiety. It brings back floods of memories that terrify me. This is going to be a long process that will take a few months. I'm only on day 4, and it is getting harder by the day. In the research I've done, there are certain peaks and then things level out some before the next taper. I'm hoping today is the worst of this round and then things will gradually start to improve again. I'm taking some supplements to try to help with the withdrawal and hoping they are truly helping. It's just so hard. A medication that I was once forced to rely on to control the level of anxiety I was enduring is now causing similar anxiety again as I try to break free from it. I'm counting my blessings that my dose and amount of time I've been on that dose are relatively small. And now I'm praying with all my heart that I can have the strength to get through this tumultuous time. These people, along with so many good friends, give me strength and help me navigate life through all that it brings our way.

My Beautiful Life

 The second time I was in the hospital, I read this quote: 

“I am going to make everything around me beautiful. That will be my life.” ― Elsie de Wolfe

Right then and there I decided that this precisely described what I wanted for myself and my life.  I wanted to find beauty wherever I went, share beauty whenever I could, and try to leave everything more beautiful than how I found it.  

Attempting to find the beauty that surrounds me is what gets me through the ugly of life.  Right now, there is a lot going on in my world, things that I am not ready to share, but these beautiful blossoms made me happy today.

Easter

 Easter has always been a day of hope, but this year more than ever before.  As I grapple with so many unanswered questions and difficult doubts, I'm holding onto hope that through Jesus Christ, what is now shattered can be repaired.  Hope that I can always overcome the challenges of life through Him.  Hope that He truly understands what I feel because He suffered it for me.  Hope that anything, literally anything, is possible, even overcoming seemingly insurmountable trauma.  I'm leaning heavily on these hopes right now, praying that they can be true for me, and doing whatever I can to trust in His power to restore my life and heal my wounds.  As Charlotte said, "This Easter is symbolic of my rebirth."

One Last Picture

 Our computer screen saver shuffles through pictures. Every time this one comes up, I feel a punch in my gut and a lump in my throat. 

This one image elicits such strong emotions in me, more than any other picture we have. Our pictures from Glacier National Park are still very painful for me to look at, because it was when we came home from that wonderful trip that I broke. But this one picture is 10x more painful than all of those combined. 

It was taken on July 31. At that time, I was going on two straight weeks of intense anxiety. But that weekend, it had escalated, and I was in a state of constant panic. I had to keep walking around my house and around the block, because it seemed that walking was the only way to release some of the built-up tension and painful energy flowing through my body like a vicious poison. I was somewhat depressed, incredibly anxious, and barely holding onto life. 

I kept pacing around my house, wondering how a person could survive such pervasive darkness and extreme anxiety, when I heard the joyful screams of my family in the backyard. They were running through the sprinklers, getting wet, and chasing each other. For some reason, I snapped a picture from inside, but I didn't go join them as I might have usually done. By that point, I was just a hollow version of myself, and I didn't understand how they could be so happy or have the energy to run and laugh. I wondered what good there was left in the world that a person could find the strength or desire to smile. 

The next day, I left my family with a precise plan of how to be gone forever. This is the last picture I had taken, the last picture my family would have been left with as they would have grappled with all of the unanswered questions, namely how someone with so much to live for could feel terrible enough to end it all.

I share this for many reasons. Because I desperately wish someone could understand the trauma that fills my mind and heart from what I experienced. Because this shows the harsh reality of what depression and anxiety can do to a person. But mostly because I want anyone who reads this to remember that there is so much to live for. Don't leave your family with that one last painful picture. Reach out and choose to stay.