Drowning by Mouse

Woke up to a flooded basement (only a little), and a head that feels like it’s in a vice-grip. I have taken half a Benadryl, Alka-Seltzer and Flonase with only marginal relief. Not matter what’s happening or how shitty I feel, my personal summer goal is to swim every single day. And, it only counts if I get my head wet. Duh, everybody knows that. Don’t they? Went to the gym and for a

"This first Friday in June, all I know is I am doing my best. My very damnedest. And it looks like this…"

I felt like this today. You don’t need to hear about the numbness, excruciating pain, overwhelming anxiety, residual anxiety, paranoia, dizziness  or that I prayed to whomever was listening to just end it. Fucking end the ridiculous, relentless, ad nauseam, non-sensical hours that consume my days. Frankly it’s wearing me down, ripping me to shreds and fucking exhausting fighting invisible monsters. Yes, I know I’m sick. Yes, I understand tapering off benzos is

That's the thing about boundaries

“I’m sorry.” This may be the most overrated, overused phrase in my catch-all, go to, spit it out library. Most times I don’t really mean it, “I’m sorry” is the quickest way around, under, over and out of an uncomfortable situation. Boundaries, now there’s a swash and spit mouthful. A word worthy of top shelf book space. I don’t pull it out often enough. Managing the days with a serious mental illness (it’s

qode interactive strata

COME ON GOD, Buddha, anybody?

Manic Depression, Benzo Taper Withdrawals, Fatty Liver Diet and oh yeah, there’s THAT (see below). Did I miss anything? I think I’m going to cocoon in bed with baby pillow and watch a movie. Preferably something ‘light.’ COME ON, GOD, BUDDHA whoever the fuck is out there listening. “Agoraphobia is often, but not always, compounded by a fear of social embarrassment, as the agoraphobic fears the onset of a panic

Take Me To Church

My therapist – “you’re an addict. You’re in recovery” (say what?). I don’t care how you got there, or which doctor gave you the pills. There are no healing shortcuts, no way around, over or under it. You have to plow straight through.” I looked up the twelve steps. Can my shrink please put me in a medically induced coma and wake me up when it’s over (approx. 2-3 years

It's all in your purple velour pants.

Body temperature. 95 degrees. Chills. Muscle aches. Blurred vision. A sampling of the shiteous Benzo taper tsunami symptoms that are my current mood. I ask my mom if I have a seizure will she take me to the hospital? “Probably not.” Frothing and foaming at the mouth in fetal position?  “Nope.” This is not her first carnival ride of crazy. Please excuse me while I go dunk my head in a snow bank to cool

shhhh, my brain is healing

Benzo withdrawal and the excruciating road to recovery is well worse than the lowest, hottest depths of hell. Actually if there was a hell, I’d probably choose to go there. Okay, I understand prescribing a XaniBar for a short time because it is necessary to quash the extreme anxiety tentacles vice gripping the brain. I am Manic Depressive (not BiPolar, I despise the modernized, sensationalized term). I understand that my illness