ROBERT'S STORY: To Hell and Back!! Life is Wonderful now after Klonopin, Xanax, Ativan and Antidepressants

[WebDevElijah]

Well, I’m sitting here in this spacious, comfortable, and easy chair in the family room, listening to the Moody Blues’ “Your Wildest Dreams.” It’s been years since I’ve heard this song, but I recently searched for Moody Blues on Google, and this was the first song that came up. I can hardly think of a more fitting song for this moment.

 

Three years ago, possibly just a few minutes ago, I was concluding my three-week stay at a psychiatric hospital in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I spent those three weeks under suicide watch. I managed to endure quite a bit during my stay at the hospital. I underwent a “taper” off 4 mg of clonazepam and attempted a trial of a tricyclic anti-depressant and Wellbutrin, both of which only exacerbated my misery.

 

About halfway through my stay, it was decided that I should undergo electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) to eliminate the persistent depression. Consequently, I was switched from clonazepam to Ativan because Ativan has a shorter half-life. The reason for this change was that ECT is ineffective when combined with benzodiazepines in the brain. I received four ECT treatments every other day. During the “in-between” days, I was subjected to a “mini-withdrawal”—no benzodiazepines at all until after the next ECT treatment. Of all the cruelty at that place, this was undoubtedly the most unbearable. I endured a week and a half of acute withdrawal symptoms.

 

On that Friday evening, approximately an hour after my final ECT treatment, my wife rescued me from that place. I stumbled outside, descended some steps, crossed a sidewalk, and made it across the parking lot. It had just begun to snow. I looked back at my footprints in the snow and wondered how I had managed to make them. I felt as though I wasn’t even present—like I was nowhere—like I didn’t even exist. The experience was surreal, surreal, surreal. The disorienting effects were unimaginable. I fervently hoped and prayed that I would pass away before reaching the car, but I miraculously survived.

So, as I sit here, in my right mind, comfortable, at peace, and connected to reality, I find myself living beyond my wildest dreams. Three years ago, I thought this was an impossible feat, even 15 months ago. Nothing is impossible (one of the dozens of lessons I’ve learned from this journey).

 

My entire story is quite lengthy and convoluted. I won’t bore anyone with all the details because it would literally require a book. The condensed, “abstract” version is: I spent 40 years drinking excessively. Around the 28th year of drinking, I began experiencing panic attacks (both from the alcohol and certain life circumstances). I sought medical attention, and the doctor prescribed Xanax, which provided relief for approximately two weeks. However, he also gave me Paxil, which triggered a tailspin of panic attacks and suicidal depression. It took a year and a half (and numerous trials of psychotropic medications) for me to emerge from the three-day Paxil experience. Ironically, the only thing that helped me recover was an increase in my alcohol consumption. Of course, I was gradually switched to clonazepam over time, and I took it daily while simultaneously drinking. I continued taking clonazepam for a total of 13 years. I was told that I would need it indefinitely, and I believed it.

 

In my 40th year of alcoholism, I finally made the decision to quit drinking for good. After two weeks, I was plunged into an unbelievable state of anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. It took several more months for me to realize that I would never be the same again until I completely discontinued the clonazepam. I was experiencing severe tolerance withdrawal. After one to two months of tapering, I was completely off the benzodiazepine. Now, let me share my success story with you.

 

I am currently a few days away from 30 months off clonazepam. Over the past year or so, I have contemplated writing a success story. However, the most challenging aspect of this has been the question: “What does success mean to me?” In the past couple of days, I have finally found an answer to this question. The answer for me is simply the answer to an easier question: “Am I at least as well as I was before this entire ordeal began – before I got…”

Off the clonazepam or even before I started taking it nearly 16 years ago, I’ve been on a remarkable journey of healing. The answer to both parts of the question is a resounding “yes.” I am significantly better than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m not exaggerating for effect.

 

From that perspective, I could have written this at around 22 months off. That’s when I became certain beyond a doubt that I was better than I had ever been.

 

One of the most noticeable changes is my increased calmness. I no longer need booze or benzos to relax. They were only exacerbating my anxiety and depression. My sense of humor has blossomed, and I can laugh like never before. I’ve also become wiser than ever. I can now find deep meaning in various aspects of life that I never even considered before. My mental cognition, ability, and energy are off the charts.

 

Physically, I’ve also made significant progress. I’ve stopped taking Nexium or any PPI for acid reflux. I had been taking PPIs for 15 years, starting when I was originally prescribed benzos back in 1997. Additionally, at around 18 months off, all my allergies vanished. I had been severely allergic to most nuts and fruits for several decades. Now, I can eat almost everything (except Brussels sprouts and tripe, which I simply can’t stand). Pollen allergies also disappeared at the same time. I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve stopped taking the benzos, but I’m grateful for the positive impact.

 

However, I do have a few minor lingering side effects. My sleep could be better, but I’ve been drinking for decades. It can take years for alcoholics to regain good sleep. Tinnitus is still present (it’s quite common), and there’s always the persistent song that runs through my head, especially in the mornings. But I’ve learned to manage this by simply suggesting changes to my mind. My mind remains very active, but I’m now able to easily direct my mental energy into positive and productive directions.

 

If I had to quantify my healing, it would easily exceed 100%. I’m better mentally and spiritually than I’ve ever been, even before I started taking the benzos. Physically, my only real issue is some arthritis that has nothing to do with the benzos.

I vividly recall the intense withdrawal symptoms I experienced when I was discharged from the psych hospital. I had nearly a hundred different symptoms, and only a handful were absent.

 

I found it fascinating to observe the healing timelines of others to gauge my own progress. Here’s my journey:

 

Month 1: The first month was similar to the weeks of tapering. I grappled with anxiety, depression, dizziness, insomnia, and restlessness. At the end of the month, my symptoms intensified significantly, but they were less severe compared to those I experienced during my time in the psych hospital and immediately after discharge.

 

Months 2 to 6: During these months, I noticed little or no improvement. The most striking symptom was the sudden and overwhelming terror that would appear at times. I experienced morning terrors every morning and an extreme fear of getting out of bed and facing the day. I was also highly sensitive to cold, noises, movement, and any other sensory input.

 

Month 7: The first noticeable improvement occurred when I was able to venture outside and do some yard work, despite uncontrollable shaking and intense fear. Dizziness from depersonalization/derealization (dp/dr) was still unbearable.

 

Month 10: I recall the first morning when I genuinely felt the desire to exercise. I spent about 10 minutes on the elliptical, and gradually, I was able to increase the duration of my workouts. I also incorporated weight-bearing exercises into my routine. Otherwise, my symptoms remained relatively consistent.

 

Months 11 to 13: There was minimal change in my symptoms during these months.

 

Months 14 and 15: At the end of month 14, I experienced a significant breakthrough on September 28, 2011. I felt well enough to possibly write something on Facebook for the first time in two years. I shared a few sentences about being on a journey and finally beginning to return. This marked the first “social” improvement since the onset of my symptoms and the first noticeable lifting of two years of depression. My morning dreads vanished.

Month 16: At my grandson’s birthday party, I felt confident and unafraid to drink the first cup of coffee I had had in over two years. This marked about a month after my Facebook entry (October 30, 2011 – a snowstorm hit Central PA). That very day, I knew I was going to recover. The depression that had lasted for over two years was almost completely gone.

 

Months 17 to 22: My condition continued to improve in almost all aspects. The most noticeable improvement was in my cognition. Mental tasks became significantly easier, and I no longer felt anxious or panicked. I was very calm.

 

In month 22, my confidence reached a level that allowed me to take on a job that required a high level of mental cognition and emotional composure.

 

Months 23 to present (month 30): While the mental symptoms of anxiety and depression had already disappeared, other lingering symptoms have either improved or vanished – usually without my conscious awareness. The heart palpitations and inner vibrations are gone. The only burning sensations I experience now are occasionally when I wake up from a nap. My dependence on alcohol and drugs has significantly reduced. I had experienced that one long before my drinking days began.

 

As I conclude my journey, I genuinely believe that my story is one of the more extreme ones. I endured decades of alcoholism, 13 years of clonazepam use, and three weeks of torture in a psychiatric hospital. This journey is definitely doable for anyone. There’s nothing extraordinary about me; it simply requires time and perseverance. You must hold on, and when you feel like you can’t hold on any longer, you must hold on.

 

You may not experience hope throughout the journey, but it’s there. It resides deep within your very being. It’s an inherent part of each and every one of us, constantly whispering to us. Don’t let the cacophony of your ailing brain convince you that it’s not there. It is there. It’s speaking, constantly speaking truth and urging you to hold on for just a moment, an hour, a day…until you become one more healed individual. In turn, you become a voice of hope for someone else to hear amidst the chaos of their own ailing mind.

 

I went to to Hell and Back and my Life is Wonderful now

 

Hold on. Just hold on. And you will heal. It’s a promise.