Be Uncomfortably Strong, Not Comfortably Numb
We often seek quick fixes to complex problems. Instead, we should pause and reflect on the deeper aspects of our struggles. Hell, maybe even address them.
If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.
Deal With Life’s Pain
The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain.
I am tired. You’re tired. Hell, we’re all tired. Everything is an emergency and everything is some crisis or another. We’re anxious about some engagement on the horizon or obligation that hasn’t been fulfilled.
We’ve been hurt and betrayed and work is piling up. But don’t worry, there’s more to come. Maybe we should be thankful there’s always more to come, though that is an unreasonable thought. For now.
Life is inherently stressful, filled with anxieties and heartaches that can either break us down or serve as catalysts for growth. It's tempting to turn to medication as a shield from these harsh realities.
However, this approach often overlooks the crucial process of feeling, recognizing our feelings, understanding them, and learning from them. Our experiences, be they from childhood or later life challenges, shape us.
They are not just obstacles to be numbed away. They are stepping stones towards strength, towards becoming capable. There are ways to cope, though some are a double-edged pill. I mean sword.
There is no coming to consciousness without pain.
Medication can be a necessary short-term solution for some, providing relief in times of acute distress. However, it becomes problematic when used as a long-term escape from dealing with underlying issues.
Anxiety, for instance, is not inherently bad. It’s neutral, like most things. It can be a signal, a call to action, alerting us that something in our lives requires attention or change. Feeling anxious is our cue to move. We have something that needs to get done or something coming up we may want to make sure was properly prepared for. As they say, proper planning prevents poor performance.
Similarly, depression, while a difficult beast to confront, often indicates that something is amiss and needs to be addressed. Introspection is a good starting point here. While there are likely factors outside of ourselves that are contributing to the depression, ensuring we’re capable of dealing with them is necessary. Take inventory and address what should be addressed.
In navigating these challenges, self-awareness becomes key. Acknowledging our struggles and taking responsibility for ourselves and our well-being is essential. Relying solely on medication without introspection or action can lead us down a path of avoidance and further pain. It's crucial to engage with our emotions, understand their roots, and work towards resolving the issues they signal.
Even when we take on the responsibility of using meds there are risks. That’s beyond the complacency and avoidance problem. I will not say that everyone on medication is complacent and avoidant, but I will say it’s easy to fall into that trap using medication. It’s useful, often necessary, but the overwhelming amount of the time it cannot work as a long-term solution or cure. Other risks include drug interactions.
This becomes especially true as time goes on. It’s easy to get into a routine and stop thinking about everything we’re taking each day. This prescription or that has faded into the background of our daily habits. Then we go back to the doctor and, because now one symptom is mitigated, we move to another. Soon we’re taking several medications for what appear to be separate issues, though who knows if they don’t come from the same source if we aren’t also trying to find and address the cause.
The interaction of medications like Klonopin and Prozac, especially when mixed with alcohol, can be deadly. Such combinations can lead to severe consequences, including increased risk of suicidal ideation, which is something I’d recommend avoiding. Personally, I wish I took seriously the importance of being informed and cautious about the medications I took and their potential interactions.
The journey towards healing and understanding is deeply personal and requires a commitment to self-growth. It involves recognizing our vulnerabilities, taking responsibility for our choices, and learning from our experiences. It's about finding strength in our struggles and using our pain as a foundation for helping others, including our children, navigate their paths, if possible.
Remember that life's pain, while inevitable, doesn't have to define us. Instead, it can be a powerful teacher, guiding us towards greater empathy, understanding, and resilience. Embrace the journey with courage and a willingness to grow.
Also, what’s stated here is my own personal journey and things I’ve noticed and believe. If you’re struggling, professionals are likely your best resource. As always, be willing to ask questions no matter who they’re aimed at.
My Own Prescriptive Predicament
It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience.
Now, I have to take responsibility here because I am not a victim. I don’t want to be, I don’t care to be, and it’s not in my wheelhouse to think that way. I’m not convinced this way of thinking is due to strength, either. Perhaps it’s my way of avoiding feeling cowardly or weak, but either way there were steps I could have taken to avoid those medicines interacting poorly.
Like, you know, avoiding alcohol like the pill bottles said.
Shit, I wasn’t even honest a good deal of the time. Not to my providers and therapists. I wasn’t honest to the doctors trying to help me. I wasn’t even honest with myself. I wasn’t facing what I need to because I didn’t want to. I was scared to and I didn’t know how.
And I wanted Klonopin and as much as I could get. I remember the first time I took it, too. It was wonderful, at least the memory feels wonderful, and I was numb. It hadn’t been prescribed, but I like to think of myself as “not dumb”, so I figured out what I had to say to get it prescribed and, “VOILA!”. Wonderful.
As it happens, that was a mistake. Shocking, I know. I didn’t want to feel anymore and being able to accomplish that becomes addicting. I don’t know the addictive properties of benzodiazepines to this day, though I am sure they have them. Even if they weren’t addictive, that numbness was something I needed to chase.
Those turned out to be a short-term solution, along with the Prozac I was already taking. It never occurred to me, assuming my memory is completely accurate with no gaps, faults, or modifications, that I needed to find and address the cause. At the beginning the meds were all I cared about.
I didn’t know or didn’t care that I was simply numbing away the feelings which, in turn, took away my body’s ability to move me to address the underlying problems. I couldn’t tell anything was wrong because I couldn’t feel anything.
Now let’s throw alcohol into the mix. I mean sure, the labels on the bottles said not to drink. But what am I supposed to do, not drink? I’m not going to not drink, that would be absurd! Scientists are nerds anyway, I’m good. I’ll be fine. I am the exception.
Except I wasn’t. It also turns out mixing Klonopin with Prozac isn’t all that good of a thing to do. To add another wrench into the mix, right into the gears, I was also on Wellbutrin. Whoopsie!
So let’s tack some potential seizures onto the wall along with potentially respiratory depression, and decreased reasoning and judgement. Those are simply a few possibilities due to the drugs INTERACTING, not the list of possible side-effects if they were stand-alone prescriptions. Now just add a little alcohol and….
Disaster, of course. Suffice it to say I am no longer on any of those, thankfully. Though staying in a psych ward does lend itself to some reflection, considering there’s plenty of time for it there. I don’t remember much of that night or the days that followed, but I do know that I am lucky to be alive.
There was a legit attempt on my life. I don’t think it was due to the medications I was taking that I wanted to die, though they may have contributed. I had been wanting to die for a while before all of it. However, I was numb enough not to care, and numb enough to take each next step in the sequence to my own cessation.
It wasn’t a big deal to drink more that night. It wasn’t a big deal to take just one more Klonopin. Then one more, then more drink, then emptying the prescription bottle, then the liquor bottle. It wasn’t a big deal to grab the knife. The mess didn’t matter either, nor the screams and the tears of the blurry-faced people around me.
Not when I was numb.
They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.
But I didn’t die. And I was told afterward I was the one who knocked on my roommate’s door and asked for help. I have no memory of that. I was told that I kept apologizing to him and his wife. I was told I kept saying sorry for the mess and for hurting them with the situation. I was told I lamented any trouble the situation may cause them and I was told I said I needed help because I needed to live.
I needed to live, they say, because I had a kid. That’s a memory I don’t have, though it’s a memory they keep. It’s one they relayed to me more than once, that I asked for help and my impetus was my child. My sweet girl.
I try and keep that in my mind when I’m down, when I want to be numb. I cannot be, I should not be. I have much to live for, my kids and my wife being utmost on the list of importance and motivation. As it happened, seeking comfort instead of closure was the wrong path for me.
Strength Through Discomfort
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
In the wake of my prescriptive predicament, a profound realization dawned upon me: true strength isn’t just about enduring pain; it's about willingly facing and moving through discomfort and agony to truly live a meaningful life.
For far too long, I sought refuge in the numbing embrace of medication and alcohol, evading the deep-seated issues that plagued my existence. This evasion, however, was not a display of strength. It was a flight from reality, a refusal to confront the demons that needed my attention.
Strength, I've learned, is not found in the oblivion of numbness but in the raw embrace of life's painful truths. It's about acknowledging that life's thorns are as real as its roses, and only by dealing with these thorns can we appreciate the beauty of the roses.
When we choose to confront our fears, insecurities, and pains head-on, we allow ourselves the opportunity for true healing and growth. This journey, undeniably uncomfortable and often torturous, is the only path that leads to genuine self-discovery and liberation from our inner turmoil.
The path of coping through substances, while providing short-term relief, is a dangerous illusion. It’s a road that leads nowhere, trapping us in a cycle of avoidance and temporary escape. But as I stood at the crossroads of life and death, numbed yet precariously balanced, it was the thought of my child that anchored me back to reality. It made me realize that the pursuit of numbness was not only a disservice to myself but also to those who cared for me, especially her.
In this newfound clarity, I understand that seeking comfort instead of closure, choosing the easy way out rather than the right way, is a disservice to the essence of life. We are not here to merely exist in a state of numb acquiescence but to face life’s challenges head-on, to learn from them, and to grow. Our struggles are not just obstacles; they are opportunities to develop resilience, empathy, and wisdom.
Now, as I navigate through life, my focus is not on avoiding discomfort but on embracing it as a necessary part of my journey. The virtues of strength lie in acknowledging our vulnerabilities, confronting our fears, and moving through the discomfort to emerge stronger and more alive than ever.
For me, this means being present for my family, facing my challenges with courage, and understanding that the journey towards healing is a continuous, albeit uncomfortable, process. It’s about living life in its entirety, with all its ups and downs, and finding meaning in every step of the way.
I’d like to believe I’m not alone in this, either.
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Powerful and relatable stuff, and some great advice as well.