Withdrawals – No Joke

Let me tell you, withdrawals are no joke.

I’ve had three major episodes, two of which resulted in emergency calls. The first time, even the doctor was shocked that the healthcare system left me to go through this alone. I had an attack that lasted four hours—I couldn’t snap out of it.

I called a friend in the middle of the night, and she rushed over. Another friend drove me to the emergency center. Even after four hours, I was still trapped in the attack. I had already taken seven Valium, yet nothing changed. This was still early in the process, and after seeing my state, the nurse left a note for my doctor, urging them to refer me to a crisis center immediately.

But of course—no one could take me in.

The System’s Response? More of the Same.

My doctor’s solution? Stay on the SSRI’s, despite the fact that they weren’t working. Instead, he suggested lowering my valium and sleeping pills.

At this point, my friend had enough. Furious, she called my doctor and got into an argument over the phone. They insisted they had done everything they could. But if that were true, why was I still suffering, barely surviving? My blood pressure was through the roof, my heartracing too and yet… no one could step in.

“Does she really need to hurt herself to get medical attention?” my friend demanded.

The response?

"Well… yes. Unfortunately, in this periode of time, that’s often the only way."

That was it for me.

I went public with my story, outraged beyond words. I was, and still am, determined to get through this—but the fact that their only solution was to keep me on a medication that was already maxed out and wasn’t working? That blew my mind.

Choosing My Own Path

They didn’t know what to do with me. No one could take me in. So their answer was to leave me stuck on meds that had driven me to self-medicate with drugs and alcohol every day for the past year.

Disgusting.

So, I stuck to my own plan.

The second major attack lasted an hour. I told my friend, "Let’s not make the call yet." I let that one pass by.

But now, my withdrawals are peaking again. I’m shaking uncontrollably all day long. I’m sweating like crazy—hot, cold, hot, cold. My body is sore from all the tension, from the constant panic attacks.

So, I called again.

Told my story again.

And what did they offer me again? More medications.

The Endless Cycle of Contradictions

And that’s when I started questioning everything these so-called professionals have told me.

"You can’t do this alone—it’s too dangerous. You need guidance." (Guidance that I’ve been waiting a year for.)

But then, when I call the emergency center, they tell me:

"Wow, it’s so strong of you to do this alone. It’s inspiring that you refuse meds. You’re such a fighter."

I swear, if I hear one more person call me strong or a fighter, my head is going to explode.

I didn’t choose this.

I have been working day and night since January 2nd to get where I am. And yes, there were moments when it would have been easier to give up, to relapse. But I refused to let all my hard work be in vain.

I’m almost there.

Almost.

But these withdrawals are testing me hard. I write in my personal journals, I manifest, I

repeat my affirmations—but let me be real: this is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Even Therapists Failed Me

At one point, I decided to work on exposure therapy—something my therapist introduced me to. But when I called her, she hesitated.

"I’ve never heard of an attack lasting this long before. I didn’t learn about this. I don’t think I can guide you through it."

I was flabbergasted, again.

I thought, Well, this could be a learning experience for you too… but she was too afraid to take it on. I cannot believe that it has come to this. A licensed professional who doesn’t dare to help me.

So, once again—I was left to do it on my own.

Out of Patience, Out of Trust

Tomorrow, I have to call my doctor again for my other medications. And every time I do, it turns into a discussion.

I’m at the point where my patience is at zero.

I have had enough.

Fighting Through, Even in Rage

Last night, I truly thought I was going to die.

And yet, I’m still here.

Still sticking to my plan, my believes.

But let me tell you this—I am mad as hell.