Bit by bit...

If I ate basil from my raised bed whilst doing a bit of weeding, does that count as consuming "greens"?

Steadily, throughout the day, I have felt better and better.  Now, that is all relative, for I am still rather weak and shaky.  However, I did go outside to do a smidgeon of weeding and to put the last of the systemic on the beleaguered boxwoods (sooooooo totally should have done that last summer as well).  I need to somehow remember next year to buy the 128 ounce bottle, because I need that much and it is significantly cheaper than buying four 32 ounce bottles, as in the price of only three of them.  I wish I had remembered that this year, having had to pick and choose amongst my greenery as to which gets the protection and extended feeding.

I also carried out the trash.
Huffing and puffing.
Dizzy.

It felt good to be doing something other than wishing for the sun to go supernova or something.  It is easy, on this side of a reaction, to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  When the massive migraine and others symptoms are felling me, I see not a mote of light anywhere.  Again, I cannot fathom how hard it must be to withdraw from harsher drugs, such as cocaine or heroine.

Moreover, I do not like the thoughts I have whilst ill, knowing I am ill because I am denying myself a drug.  I never liked how anxious I got over ensuring I had the refills, knowing that I could not just stop taking Xanax.  I felt like some sort of junkie.  Tuesday, I very much had a "junkie's" thoughts and desires and recklessness.

I have been reading more and more and more and realize that my schedule is built upon tapering from having switched to diazepam.  Since I am tapering directly from Xanax, I have had the thought of just stopping all together next week, instead of trying to go every other day and such.  Xanax doesn't have the half life for that.  It would be like being a yo-yo.

The other thought I had is that I could try to quarter the pills once more and take the .0625 dose for two weeks before stopping.  That might be more reasonable, but I also wonder if I make the final dose be at .125 it would mean only one more bad reaction period and then the lingering headache for however long.  I am very, very, very much wanting this drug to no longer be a part of my life.

My friend who is a counselor told me that only strong people are able to withdraw from drugs.
I do not feel strong.
I feel the very opposite of strong.

I have been thinking about the anxiety.  I mean, I have learned to manage so much, but there are certain situations that I cannot rehearse and, thus, am very poor at navigating.  Primarily, exams and where others will be touching me.  Becky's weighted blanket lap blanket has been immensely helpful on that front.  And I thought it was rather kind of my surgeon to be rather blunt about needing to work up a plan for the exam and testing to be done in October.  The last biopsy was rather wretched.  She is right; I do need a plan.  But I also know that, with her, I can weep and shake and be terrified and it will not affect the way that she sees or treats me.  In fact, each time she's had to tend to my body, she calls me brave for even showing up.  I like that.  

At home, Becky's weighted blanket has help me immensely, most particularly when I am thinking difficult thoughts.  I forgot that I had a lavender woodwick candle and have been using that lately.  Some might see it as a gimmick, but the crackling sound it makes is soothing to me ... an almost fire.  Between the candle and the blanket and some music, I can find peace in a difficult moment.

The worst for me, other than exams, is unexpected change. By that I mean asking me to do something that I have not rehearsed.  In part this is because it is so difficult for me to understand things. I still do not understand why, when my surgeon is my preferred doctor on my Medicare advantage plan, that I had to sign a Medicare Part C release and agreement to pay. I do not have Part C.  That is gap coverage for seniors.  Those who are disabled and non-senior have to just find the money somehow for what is not covered by Medicare.  But, more importantly, I have seen her on the same plan for several years and she has never not been paid by the insurance company.  And co-ayment has never been an issue.  If I do not have the money for something medical, I am not going to pursue it.

But even unexpected change, being open about its problem for me, is something I am learning to manage.  For example, the entire pharmacy team at Target is very careful to show me when pills change, to mark it on the bag and the bottle, and to tell me ahead of time in a voice mail.  The same with prices.  When they fill all my gazillion prescriptions, if there is big price jump, they will let me know before I am standing at the register in public.  Sweet that they are, the day Target told them about the staffing plan for the CVS takeover, one of them called me to let me know that, for now, they should be retained at my Target.  BIG SIGH OF RELIEF.

The point is, there is some anxiety that I cannot control, but I can navigate to the other side.  There is other that, were circumstances different for me, I might could rehearse (such as not being a wall-flower hermit).  When I am home, I have done fairly well.  And, even though the shame of my last visit at the surgeon's office felled me, I did get through that.

And, of course, I do have my fluff ball.  Amos has become adept at recognizing when he can drape himself across my person and when I need him to merely hover nearby.

The hardest part of the withdrawal has been—the part other than being enmeshed in the throes of a massive migraine—the trouble sleeping.  I had worked so hard on that part of my life.  However, I know that the back sliding I have done, such as a mere 4 hours last night, is because of the journey I am taking in withdrawing from Xanax.  I am not mentally worse; in fact, I am mentally brighter, more positive even if I am still cynical about where our world is going.  I have been singing more—much to Amos' dismay—and I have been slow dancing with my fluff ball when I can.

I sit on the back porch and savor the hummingbird chimes.
I sit on the front porch and brave the rain.
I sit on the airing porch and watch the sunset.

Such colors!

I have also admired the night clouds...

And my beloved Rose of Sharon blooms...

There is such beauty in this house, in the small and quiet life I have here.  Yes, I am ill so much of the time.  And I fret and become frightened when that illness is particularly felling.  Yet I know that, for the most part, all I can do is ensure ... and savor the brights spots that come my way.