Whispering Wyrd

I was going to wait until the actual ten month anniversary (in three days) of being free from benzos, but I want to say this now. I need to say it now.

I have the best family and extended family anyone could hope for. They’ve seen me through withdrawals, through fear and pain, and they are still here with me now. Years ago, a doctor told me that when I finally healed, I would lose friends and even family because “they won’t recognize the healed version of you.”

He was right to an extent, yes, I’ve lost a few people. But the vast majority stayed. They recognized me. They accepted the healed me. And for that, I am forever grateful.

My wife and my sons, first and always. My parents. My aunt. And my lifelong friend, Jeff. These people are the greatest gifts in my life. I hold nothing against those who didn’t stay, everyone has their own path to walk.

Every day, I think about how fortunate I am. People tell me I’ve “changed” since getting off benzos, that I’m a “better” person now, easier to be around. Maybe they’re right. The truth is simple, while I was on benzos (and alcohol before that), I was angry all the time. Depressed all the time. Trapped in my own inner pain.

And, honestly, a lot of that came from where I lived. I hated that place. The culture didn’t fit me, and I couldn’t be myself. Moving here, moving to these mountains, saved my life. I am surrounded by beauty every single day. Four distinct seasons. A festive, fun culture. Celebrations instead of heaviness. A place where I am free, finally, to be myself.

The people who supported me through withdrawal will always have a sacred place in my heart. Getting off benzos was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. As much as I love words and language, there’s no way to adequately describe what over twenty years of use, and the process of breaking free, did to me.

I had two seizures. My heart rhythm was disrupted with multifocal PVCs. My muscles stiffened so intensely it changed my gait. And on top of the physical pain and devastation, the buried trauma of my past came roaring to the surface once the chemical fog lifted. In some ways, those memories hurt worse than the physical symptoms.

But now, ten months off the drug in just three days from now,I am healing.

I still experience “waves,” those temporary returns of symptoms, but I also experience “windows,” times when the healing shines through and everything is clear and quiet again. Healing from long-term benzo use is not linear. That’s been one of the hardest lessons to accept. But I have hope now. Real hope.

I’ll be 60 in a few months. And as I’ve told friends and family, I only wish I had done this sooner. I don’t know if being younger would have made withdrawal easier, but I wish I’d had more time to enjoy this clarity, this freedom, this ability to finally be me.

To those who supported me, who encouraged me, who stayed, thank you from the bottom of my heart. There is no way to put into words how much it has meant.

For those who remained to see (and accept) this healed, authentic version of me, I love you. I know now who my true family and friends are, and I appreciate you more than I could ever express.

~Buck