70

70.

It's a harmless number on its own.  But it's a number that I'll never forget. 

Part of having this blog is to include you on this journey.  Not because I want a huge load of spectators watching my every move, and whispering behind my back. (that's actually a huge fear of mine)  Rather, if somewhere, within that crowd there's just ONE person gaining some strength to fight, I'm gonna type on.

Because this is so freaking hard.  And it's lonely. 

One in every four Americans have either anxiety or depression, or some other kind of mood/behavior condition.  This journey shouldn't be lonely.

But it is, because it remains in the shadows.  Depression, anxiety, drugs, addiction, recovery, etc;  these are taboo topics we don't bring up.  That's gotta change.  And I'm trying to help with that change.

With that said, let me be candid;  I switched psychiatrists (again).  Not a huge deal- but it is, because if you have anxiety, any kind of change is awful and scary. 

At one point in 2017, I was allotted up to SIX milligrams of klopnopin as needed, per day.  That's a lot.  Like... a LOT. 

When I decided to get off of all meds, I knew klonopin was going to be the tough one.  I knew it from the first time I stepped down in my dosage.  Getting off of klonopin was going to suck.  But I stuck to my guns, and I told my psychiatrist (in 2017), "I want to wean off my klonopin,"  She came up with a plan.

I love plans.

Plans mean preparation. 

Plans mean you are on the right track.

Plans hold you accountable.

Plans take root, and become routine.  Routine is safety.  (says my brain)

So in the summer of 2018 when my psych sent me a letter (in the mail) stating she was "dropping me as a patient," I felt sucker punched.

OUR PLANS!

I can't remember exactly what the letter said, but it had a list of a few other psychiatrist who might be willing to "take me on" as a patient, and it also included one last script.  After that script, I'd have no access to klonopin through my old psych.

I was terrified. 

Ryan kept saying, "Look, we'll make an appointment with someone else, and it will all be fine." 

But I had plans.  My psych and I had PLANS. 

Here's the SICK thing about long term use of klonopin-  you can't just stop.  You can't even just "cut back."   

I learned this when I decided to quit cold turkey.  Yes, yes, I went from 6mg of klonopin to zero. 

I lasted two weeks  without klonopin, and literally could not take one more second.  Ryan drove me into our GP and I spilled it all out to him.  My vitals were out of whack and I hadn't eaten in days.  My OCD was out of control; I couldn't stop pacing and washing my hands.  (weird stuff, I know).

My doc wrote me a script for 4 mg. and I filled it immediately.

After a few days being on a "regular" dose, I felt okay again.  Scared, but okay.

Isn't it terrifying that a tiny blue pill could hold so much power??   There was a time I had no idea how I could EVER get it out of my life.  There were no plans.  It was just "taking klonopin until I found a new psychiatrist."  And I could've stayed in that 4mg zone forever.  It was easy.  Comfortable. 

I had detoxed off of pain meds already, which was brutal, and I was just learning how to live without pain medication dictating every step I made. 

4mg of klonopin was like this giant cushion of relief I had at the end of the day.  (or whenever I needed it).  And for a few months I stayed complacent in my "fight to be med free." 

I thought, "I'm on zero narcotics, opioids, etc.  CERTAINLY, I should be allowed enough klonopin to keep me sane."   I have anxiety.  I have to be on medication,  I've been told that for almost 13 years.  It's ingrained in my head.  I NEED KLONOPIN. 

My GP is awesome, and caught onto this unhealthy thinking pretty quickly.  He straight up told me, "I can't treat you anymore with this, but I will find someone who will."  And he did.  He found a psychiatrist who was willing to "take me on" as a patient. 

Fast forward to today... I'm down to 2 milligrams.  Somehow.  I mean, I know how.  But I look back to those days when I thought life was IMPOSSIBLE without 6 milligrams of klonopin.  And then, when I thought life was impossible without 4 milligrams of klonopin....

Life was hard- life IS hard (goodness gracious), surely.  But not impossible.  Never, NEVER impossible.

At my very first appointment, Dr. S & I went over all my background info. 

He pulled out a chunk of papers.  On the front was a big, bold, 700. 

I had no clue what that meant, but listened as he explained.

Florida has three categories of drugs:
Opioids/narcotics, Benzodiazipine (downers), amphetamines (uppers).

Everyone who lives in the state of Florida has this paper; even if you're on zero medication. 

Somehow, someone, somewhere, was able to put a number system to this thing.  And it was that number that made me think twice about my complacency with klonopin.

(Keep in mind, this was shortly after I got off of pain meds)- but at that moment, in the state of Florida, my opioid "score" was over 450 and my benzo score was around 250.  I was never on any uppers, so that was a zero... but there was that big, fat, foreboding "700" number. 

Sometimes I wish I hadn't asked.  But then again,  I'm thankful I did...

Florida has an "accidental overdose" chart.  It ranges from 0 to 999.  Basically, you have a zero percent chance of overdosing if you're on zero meds.  The number changes as meds are added, taken away, etc.  My number was 700. 

I asked what that meant exactly.  The doctor said, "this means that when you were on 6mg of klonopin and the opioids, you basically had a 70% chance of an accidental overdose. 

70%. 

I was shocked... and the tears spilled.  I asked, "So I had a 70% chance of dying??"  And he clearly stated, "When you were on this amount of narcotics, and that amount of benzodiazpines, yes, you had a 70% chance of overdosing."

And then he said, "You beat the odds.  Not many people get out of that 70%."

I think I started to hyperventilate or something, because he flipped the paper over and did the *new* math (zero narcotics and 3-4 mg of klonopin).  "Look- this number doesn't exist anymore because you're not taking any narcotics.  And this number (the klonopin number) is already greatly reduced... and that's why you're here.  To knock that number out."

I left that appointment with a few new things:

-a much needed, renewed steely resolve to get off of klonopin.

-some anger (not gonna lie... how did I ever get to THAT point)  How am I even talking about this?  How is this an issue in my life?  Why can't I just focus on my kids, and my family, my business, etc.  Why do I have to even think about the number 70???

-HOPE.  I left with hope.  We had a plan. 


There's no point in denying it; getting off of klonopin is hard.  Some days are better than others, but this isn't an overnight fix. 

Anxiety medication has been part of my life for too long.  My brain is used to a certain dose, and doesn't know how to cope without it. 

Every single time I take a "step down" I go through hell.  It feels like every thought and ALL the feelings are just hammering at me.  A lot of times I have to step away from "stuff" and just "STOP."  If that makes sense?  I go into survival mode... it's really, very ugly.  And it just freaking happens.  I can't ever predict the exact day my body is going to revolt, but at some point, between the dosage dropping, I always end up in bed, thinking "I can't do this."

Why am I just now writing this?

Because last night I went through the pits.  And it reminded me this journey isn't even kind of over.   Actually it reminded me it's a journey I put myself on, that will never really BE over... it will just be in the past.  But it's naive of me to say, "one day I'll be 100% good!"

I'm still in it.  Even after an awesome week long jaunt through Florida with my family, anxiety finds me.  And I'm stuck in the black hole of anxiety. 

Sometimes I get comfy.  After so many triumphs under my belt, and "wins" (flying without anxiety meds, or driving somewhere... etc)  I start to feel gutsy.  Like "I got this."
 And just like that, the darkness swoops in.

Last night I started to pace in the kitchen.  ((HEY ANXIETY))!

No joke- my very first thought was, "What time is it?  Can I take my klonopin yet?"  I skipped all the sensible steps in between, and wanted the quick fix pill.   

((Sensible steps include:  oils & CBD, putting my cellphone away... resting... HYDRATING... reading... slowing down)

I told Ryan, "I need my brain to shut off for like five minutes.  If I could just STOP overthinking everything I could get myself together." 

Being anxious is SO. FREAKING. UNCOMFORTABLE.  The only way I can describe it is having severe brain fog, with shortness of breath and dizziness.  I can't focus, I start thinking catastrophically ( it's completely ridiculous)... did you know, for an entire year I didn't go to the alligator farm because I was convinced  if I took my kids, one of them would fall into the water?- I get paranoid about silly things (last night I was sobbing because I felt guilty for not cooking dinner).  Typing all of this out makes it sound even MORE crazy... yikes.  BUT... it also puts it in its place.  The catastrophic thinking, and the "not good enough" because you didn't make dinner stuff can be shoved in a corner called, "stupid, fearful, fictional stuff that my healing brain makes up."

Healing brain. 

I was told I couldn't "do life" for such a long time, that I believed it.  And sometimes, on the bad days (like last night) that sneaky doubt creeps in and I start to believe it again. 

But that doubt will never stick.  I won't allow it. 

Because I want the number zero.

I want a zero percent chance of an accidental overdose.  Not a 20% (that's what I'm at right now)... but a zero. 

A big, fat ZERO with a cherry on top.  THAT'S what I want.  THAT'S what I'm working my butt off for.  I can't tell you when I'll get there.  I wish I could- trust me.  I wish I had a date that I could look at and say, "By this time... I will not be struggling with klonopin anymore!"   That's not how it works. 

It's one day at a time.  Sometimes one minute at a time. 

But nothing worth having, comes easy.  And that zero is worth a lot to me.  It's worth a lot to my family, and friends as well. 

It's Saturday.  I "survived" my anxious night. 

I'm tired.  My patience with this process is wearing, for sure.  But it's all still here... patience, hope, trust, life, breath- my breath.  It's here.  And that means I continue to fight.  All of the things that sum up my zero are still RIGHT here, and I will never stop fighting for that number.

Never ever.

That saying, "less is more?"  Yeah.  That. 

I WANT ZERO. 

Thanks for reading and hearing my heart friends <3