Electricity jolts from your body to your brain

Any more of this won’t leave you sane

Food can no longer stay down

Is it you or the room spinning round

Does it matter? no it can’t

The sound of your breath is a screaming rant

The tile floor is cool against your flaming skin

Such tiny relief of the monumental pain you are in

Your body aches and shivers and burns

Everything hurts no matter how you turn

Worse is the pain your heart feels like an attack

Reaching out, begging for someone to reach back

Your body violently protests while you kneel

You sob as you beg for a kind word to heal

A little of the hurt inside and out

For someone to remind you what this is all about

Right now you just want to die

Because you just can’t remember why

It’s so important to get past this

Something as gentle as a familial kiss

On the brow pulsing with pain and sweat

A simple pat on the back

Or a text that says: you got this

But I am alone

As I atone

For my attempt to stop the pain

Now I know I have no one

Really is there much to gain

By making it through this tortured detox

By living through this hell

By trying to make myself better and well

I’ve come to the understanding my life is a living, lonely, hell
Authors blurb: withdrawal and detox are a bitch. I went cold turkey off of Cymbalta, my anti-depressant, when my doctor refused to listen to the fact that it was giving me a very strong suicidal drive. Side note- find another doctor. It’s a damn stupid thing to just stop. Damned stupid. 

Another note: don’t ever, ever, start Cymbalta. That stuff is dangerous and impossible to get off. It causes EXTREME withdrawals, paresthesia, paranoia, nausea, aches, really the list doesn’t stop and your doctor won’t tell you about how awful it is. Anyway- I will climb off my soapbox now. I was alone going through this. I had no idea what I was getting into, the nightmares, hallucinations, the paresthesia… It’s terrifying. I really just wanted to die. This lasted about two weeks at such a severe level. The paresthesia is still hanging around. Some people claim it never goes away. I needed a kind word, a cool wash rag, some supportive texts, anything. What I got was a long rant from my brother about how stupid I was and it was my own fault and get over it. He stopped by a few times to make sure I was alive. Never more than a minute or two. I don’t deny it was stupid but it would have been nice to have something kind to help me through. The night before I stopped it I was sitting in my bathroom with a knife trying to talk myself out of opening my arm up. 

 I sobbed for hours because I have never felt so alone. I slept on the bathroom floor most nights while going through the withdrawal. Breathing hurt. Existing hurt. I will say that I’ve made it through and I’m working my way down the other side of the hill. I stopped having the suicidal drive within the first week of stopping Cymbalta. Now I have monumental anger issues I have to relearn to deal with. 

If you know someone who is going through withdrawal or detox, alcohol, illegal drugs, prescription drugs, please please support them in small ways. This is a terrifying ordeal and more pain than you can imagine.  And help them find a doctor worth his fudging paycheck. 


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