And everything remains the same. At least while going through this it feels like that.
The leaves are beginning to change. 
I know Fall is coming. Another season is arriving. It is my favorite time of year typically. But since entering Benzo Tolerance it doesn’t feel the same. Nothing feels the same.
My sister and I used to be so excited when Fall arrived. The birds sound differently. The air smells different. We would go back and forth about Halloween costume ideas. And even as adults we would book haunted house tours and go to movie events and Halloween concerts.
It was our holiday. Just for us.
I can’t remember the last Halloween we spent together before I developed benzo-induced phobias. Maybe 2011?
This time now reminds me of again how much I have lost. I miss my sister. Every day I miss her. She doesn’t understand what is happening to me or why I have been sick for 20 years. She doesn’t understand benzo withdrawal or iatrogenic brain injuries.
I wish I could make her understand. I just really miss her. Every year I wished she would show up for Halloween. We could watch the Worst Witch and eat our weight in Reese’s Buttercups.
She’s buying her first home now and I’m sad because it’s another thing I have to miss.
I missed her wedding and getting married
I missed her buying her first home
I know I won’t be healed by the time she starts having kids so I will miss that too.
I am so exhausted with missing things.
Because of psych meds I missed so much.
Prom
High school graduation
Living on my own
Dating
Engagements
Sisters Weddings
Best friends Funeral
Best friends wedding
Best friends graduation
Anniversaries
HS Reunion
Christmas 2018
Thanksgiving 2018
So many birthdays I’ve lost count
Still stuck in this room. Still mourning all this loss. Still have years of brain damage to repair. Years to go. And I know there are hundreds and thousands of people suffering just like me, their bodies and brains injured in the same exact way by these drugs. I know I’m not alone but I feel that way.
I know I’m going to have to lose the person I was in order to make it out of this.
I’ve already lost the person I was. And strangely, I’m okay with this. I have no idea what I’m becoming but I know walking through this I’ve become stronger. I would rather be this person now than the old me. The old me would have continued to keep swallowing these drugs, continued getting sicker and sicker and continued to believe they were mentally ill when they weren’t.
I never want to be that me again.
