When I was at my acupuncturists the other day I basically collapsed on the table after pounding on her office door when I couldn’t tolerate sitting in the office. I REALLY needed to lay down. I can sit in recliner type chairs but an upright chair I can last in only so long and I had reached my limit at the health food store where I had lunch before I went to accupuncture.
I learned that it was the acupuncture that made my endometriosis pain almost non-existent. It is, after all, the reason I went to the acupuncturist in the first place but I didn’t expect such rapid results. Almost totally pain free after two treatments. She told me that pain is usually the easiest symptom to treat and the rest of my hormonal issues and my basic poor health would probably take much longer to deal with.
Her diagnosis of my situation in the Chinese way of interpreting things is that my liver is in serious shape. Since Chinese medicine deals with the whole being I’m really being treated for everything my body is suffering from even though I presented saying I needed help balancing my hormones.
In any case, I collapsed on her table after being out for an hour—I was sick of staying in bed and so my husband took me to lunch. But that hour was really too much and as I collapsed on her table I burst into tears.
It ended up being like a therapy session. I told her I was dealing with so much anger. And rage. My circumstances so damn frustrating. Doctor after doctor mishandling me. Making me sicker. My rage is targeted mostly at my sister who doesn’t give a shit that I’m sick and at my last doctor who seems to have no interest in admitting any fault and is therefore just as bad as any drug pushing doctor. It’s also targeted at people in the recovery movement who think that their road to recovery is the only road to recovery and they seem to dare to think that if I only followed their way I would be well by now. One thing I’ve learned on this journey is that there are as many roads to recovery as there are people. My recovery stories page on this blog gives a glimpse of this—-all different methods of recovery…I borrow from many of their journeys, but ultimately I trust my gut. And so should anyone else struggling to recover…There is nothing tried and true for every person who has been labeled. No one thing. Perhaps the only necessary ingredient is believing that one can get better and all of these people have that and I do too, in spades.
In any case I have rage. It’s probably primal rage and it’s just glomming on to whoever is an attractive target right now.
How do I clear it out? How do I forgive my sister and my doctor? How do I embrace the giant egos of some of my recovered friends when they seem to condescend on my journey? (please don’t everyone assume I’m thinking of YOU…it’s just a couple of people really)
One thing is clear. I have no mental illness, but I’m very very physically sick. The drugs made me sick. The withdrawal made me sick. My prescribing psychiatrist who is watching me go through this process agrees. My husband who knows me intimately agrees. No mental illness…nope, just sickness caused by drugs and drug withdrawal.
But right now and since I went through my crisis, I am dealing with rage. My detoxing liver determines my rage, says my acupuncturist. My withdrawing body must feel emotions that have been numbed out for years. I know some of my rage is pointless, like hating my sisters guts for not even inquiring about my health when I told her in an email what was up with me. I wrote two sentences in response to an email in which she expressed her expectation that I would be joining her somewhere out of state in December. I told her at the time I bought the ticket that I was ill and would probably not be able to go and she didn’t ask in the email if I was better, but instead acted as though she assumed I was going. I’ve been sick for 2 years and she somehow can’t remember?? My response:
Right now I am bed bound and unless I get better won’t be able to go…I try to remain hopeful but the truth is I’m seriously debilitated.
Followed by a neutral response to the rest of her email and she didn’t even see fit to respond. Your sister is so sick she can’t get out of bed and you don’t say a word!!!??? Fuck her.
Okay, I know all of my rage is pointless, but I still need to feel it and let it flow through me as part of my healing process.
I’m no longer irritable though—not in a general sense—granted I recognize this as a rant and it includes feelings of irritation!! But I no longer act out irritability and that is awesome. I don’t bite the heads off of anyone anymore. Not even my husband who, poor guy, was the most frequent recipient of my joyous irritability. Risperdal seemed to be the greatest cause of that. Finally finishing that withdrawal changed things dramatically. I should say I do still have low grade irritability but I don’t act on it anymore and I know it’s the Klonopin that is causing the residual irritability…I should be one hell of a pleasant person once I’m off it all. I was in fact very pleasant when I cold-turkeyed for the first two days. Very pleasant indeed, with the drugs out of my system, until of course I got psychotic…but even then I remained pleasant. I just needed attention so that I could sleep again. But yeah, that sneak peak of being drug free was awesome. In that regard I shouldn’t regret having gone through what I went through. It gave me a glimpse of a very balanced and sane future.
Okay, I’m rambling…I’m too tired to work anything out or figure things out so I’m just getting crap off my chest.
One thing my last doctor (the one that cold-turkeyed me) was right about was Klonopin being toxic to my system right now. I do, indeed, get sicker every night when I take it. But the alternative, not taking it, is unfortunately worse. She apparently didn’t think getting psychotic from lack of sleep and cold-turkey withdrawal was worse, but I did. So being that it was my call, I am now stuck getting sicker every night upon taking my Klonopin, while I wrap up my Lamictal withdrawal. I’m down to 7.5 mg of Lamictal. That was from a high of 400 mg. The really weird thing is I can feel each 2.5 mg taper of the Lamictal. It’s really bizarre how chemically sensitive I’ve become. I stay on a lowered dose a few days until I get nauseas again and then I cut by 2.5 mg. As soon as I’m off the Lamictal I will push the Klonopin as hard as I can, but I WILL NOT sacrifice sleep entirely. That is what will control the speed of my Klonopin taper—I must get at least a few hours of sleep a night or hold my taper, but lord do I know I need to get the hell off of it. Every night when it comes time to take the Klonopin, just as I’m just starting to feel better, I have to take those damn pills that make me feel really sick all over again.
What a twisted reality I live in.