Beth’s Story

[WebDevElijah]

Hi Everyone! I want to finally share my story and hopefully spread a glimmer of hope...I’m going to put a trigger warning on this post as some of the content of my story might trigger some people. The last thing I want to do is upset anyone...I just hope for healing....

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I’ve never posted here before, but you all—without knowing—helped me through the worst period of my life. For that, I thank each and every one of you! I feel like I can finally share my experience. In the beginning, I never thought I would be able to.

 

Like many of you, my story began about 12 years ago. I was struggling with severe anxiety and depression. Most days, I couldn’t even muster the energy to get out of bed. On the rare occasions I did, my days were filled with crying, shaking, and begging for someone—anyone—to help me. I wasn’t eating, and my weight dropped to an unhealthy level. I was suffering, and so was my family.

 

Seeking relief, I sought help and was prescribed the dreadful benzo "K" (Klonopin), along with an antidepressant. These medications were supposed to take away all my misery—and they did, for many years. For 11 years, I took the medications as prescribed, never questioning the doctors. After all, doctors are supposed to know what they’re doing, right? Everything seemed fine. The medications were working as intended... until the summer of 2020.

In 2020, I began experiencing feelings of despair, hopelessness, anxiety, and eventually full-blown panic attacks. I was only taking my medications as prescribed—never more, never less—so I returned to my PCP for advice. He told me to "just take more of your anxiety medication" because my current dose wasn’t working. So, I followed his advice. But instead of feeling better, I felt worse.

 

Unbeknownst to me, I had hit tolerance. Despite this, I kept taking the benzo because my doctor assured me it was safe. "Don’t worry," he said. "You’ll feel better soon on the higher dose." But the reality was far different. I spiraled further into that dark place, unable to climb out.

When I brought my worsening condition to my doctor’s attention, he decided to stop prescribing the medication altogether. While I wanted off the benzo, I needed help to do it. I knew enough to understand you couldn’t stop abruptly, but I had no choice. I was suddenly without the medication and without the support of the person who had prescribed it for so many years. I went into full-blown withdrawal, experiencing countless symptoms. I began researching on my own and, thankfully, found this wonderful group. Armed with my findings, I went back to my doctor for help.

 

To my horror, I was met with disbelief: "You cannot be withdrawing. Withdrawal is for people who abuse or take high doses of this medication. You only took a small dose—0.5 mg of K per night." Hearing this from an MD was devastating. It was clear I was completely on my own.

I sought help from other physicians and specialists in my area, but I was met with the same dismissive responses. It felt like a dirty little secret no one wanted to acknowledge. Left with no other options, I became my own advocate and soldiered on.

 

I am now completely off this dreadful medication—5 months off a cold turkey. The first two months were pure hell, but slowly, the symptoms subsided. I climbed out of that dark hole, one step at a time. The light grew brighter, and the sun began to shine again. At the time, I didn’t believe it was possible, but I’m here to tell you: It happens, one step at a time.

We all heal differently and at our own pace, but healing does happen. Believe me when I say: You WILL do it! Thank you for allowing me to share my story.