I feel like I have nothing to write about and nothing to give, so I will write about just that, about what it’s like to be alive but feel like you’re not, and about wanting those rare and special feelings of pleasure to return. Maybe I have nothing to give, but I’ll give out of my nothingness. This giving is not just for the benefit of others, but for the pursuit of my own well being. So that’s why I’m here, to give and share to others and also for the beautiful act of showing love to myself, out of which flows a well of goodness for others. It’s a relentless Love that won’t give up even in my darkest moments.
I’m unmotivated and in this absence of pleasure I see no purpose in continuing on. But that’s just it; it’s about awakening what’s there beneath and fighting for the existence of what’s not. It’s the tug and pull against my far off self that eventually lures me back. My fight is resisting the urge to give in to this displeasure with life and the lack of desire to fight for life itself. Both sides are somewhat contrary but strangely thrive as one. And I’ve decided to stand in the middle of them, because He already has.
I’m battling between feelings and truth, desires and the known. I don’t want to hurriedly wander about for pleasure and suffer the frustrating disappointment of doing so. But I know what’s true, and that’s that there’s better for me.
Yesterday was a big day for me. I had hopefully awaited this day with the expectation for the decrease in meds. The decrease is so important to me as I am excitedly close to being chemically independent. You might have already read my thoughts and personal experience of meds in my post on chemical dependency.
Four years ago, I decided to break away from my holistic health beliefs and accepted the support of traditional medicine. I started off with two different kinds, one that would kick in after a four-month period, and a temporary tranquilizer to hold me over until that time arrived. With my new doctor overseas, I went through several other types in search of relief from subsequent side affects yet I only found myself increasing in dosages.
It wasn’t until I miraculously needed to change doctors that I started working with the one I have today. I found myself dropping from 150mg to 40mg, taking into consideration the difference in chemical make up, and today I’m taking my last doses of 10mg. It’s basically nothing and I’m practically free, withdrawing at my own steady pace. I’m extremely hopeful and excited, yet subconsciously fearful of dropping. Yes I’m confident and strong, yet I still doubt my stability when those familiar feelings slip back for a visit.
Those close to me know how I have expectantly looked towards this great day. As I sit here imagining what it must be like, I realize that this identity is not far off or out of reach, but is already here. I’m not coming clean to simply come back, I’m withdrawing to become. The Danielle before the medicine is different than the Danielle after.
And that doctor visit yesterday morning? It made my heart jump, put a smile on my face, and made gentle, yet uncontrollable tears fall from my eyes. What I had expected to be a year-long process turned out to be a complete stop in a beautiful ten-weeks time. And that’s the miracle that a dedication of time and money, the fight against unwanted hours spent sleeping or wide awake, and determined faith in change can bring.
It all comes with a price, but it’s all worth it.