I had a major panic attack as I wrote yesterday's entry on suffering. Today, I realize I'm the only one who can free myself. I have spent enough time giving my power away to people and situations of abuse and trauma. I have kept the stories alive for so long now that I don't even know what's real anymore. All I feel is the raw pain of grief and anger. Not even sure who it's towards or what it's about. I can project it on any number of people and situations but it is becoming enough to just acknowledge that it's there and breathe through until it passes. Eventually everything does.
The pharmacy would not refill my sleeping pill prescription. They've figured out that I've been taking more than the recommended dose. When I started the anti-depressant, they began losing their effectiveness so I began to take more and more. Apparently I'm now up to triple the maximum dose. Probably not a good thing but when you're suicidal you're not much concerned with maximum dosages and long-term repercussions. So I face some choices. Do I seek out more drugs? Or do I detox and see what I can manage on my own with the other resources I have in place (therapy, friends, etc.)?
I feel like I'm at a major crossroads in my life. There are people I've been striving to keep in my life who either don't want to be here right now or can't be here or would be better off not being here. And there are a whole wealth of new friends who've come into my life and offered me their unconditional love and friendship. It is hard to let go but I've been carrying so much dead weight for so long, leaving doors open that should've been closed long ago. I have been gathering strength. The strength to know that I don't need these people and that I'd probably be much better off without them, as painful and harsh as that may be. I have made it this far without people I thought I couldn't live without. Fuck it. Let's keep moving.
Life continues to surprise me. I continue to surprise me. And so it is.