I feel like I’m heading off to Siberia. Or prison. Or an asylum. But I’m choosing this. Yesterday I was a black hole of depression. And I knew, I knew, that it was the benzos. This chemical dependency at that hands of an irresponsible doctor is a life changer. I’m going places I’ve never been – Glock me depression, anxiety that makes the skin burn, stumbling over rugs, seeing tracers. My brain has been altered. I can only hope that it will return to it’s normal functioning after my withdrawal.
But I found two secrets today. One on a hike up Millcreek. I walked and walked despite the nausea, because I knew that endorphins are the only way to fight the black sea of depression. And I found a surprise, a gift, a shrine. Thank you, to whomever made the fairy tree. I kissed the door and the wood around the door. I kissed the peach fabric. Thank you.
I also found a suitcase. One I’ve used in performance art pieces. It’s a relic; blue with a simple handle and the the kind of satisfying snaps that you just don’t find anymore. I’d gone to the garage to look for a canvas so I can paint while I’m in Siberia. And I found my suitcase. Inside, a book of paintings I’d done, red cardinals (ornaments, not real), an old diary and gold leaf. It felt like a promise. I will go to Siberia, I will go down the rabbit hole, I will go to wherever this takes me, but I’ll make it out. And I will paint myself with gold leaf and make a shrine for anyone else who has to take this path.
Thank you to my friends who are pillows and words to pull me out of the benzo dark. Thank you to Sheila at http://www.theparentpartner.com. She is wise beyond words and has helped me find a way to tell my children, “I am sick. But I will get better. We will have love and connection even if I’m away.” Thank you to my husband, who is trying to keep his sanity as I slip away.
Thank you to the doctor who put me on this path. My rage may just be able to break the culture of anesthesia that benzos have brought to America. I can only hope. To. Bring. Light.