Second day of being so drugged I can barely lift head

Second day of being so drugged I can barely lift head--not in good shape. I spent all of yesterday sleeping--sleeping on whatever psychotropic drug completely wasted me. Woke up devastated again by the drug tho not so bad. I can get out of bed. I didnt grab for phenergan and fiornal within the first five mins of waking up, and I actually have managed to sit at my computer for, so far, about 10 minutes while I read email. Don't think I feel up to any extended periods of reading and research tho. My back hurts from having spent 22 of the last 24 hours in a prone position, and I am trying to pep talk myself into getting up and doing something. Herei s where I hate not having a regular gym routine. When I feel like shit, I hate starting something new.
Of course, starting somehting new is why I got blasted with these drugs in the first place. I was supposed to see a trainer yesterday, and just as when last week, I was supposed to have a one-on-one with a Dahn yoga trainer, I get so blasted with drugs I can't get out of bed. Why? Oh, after years of dealing with these sick sons of bitches, I can tell you why--jealousy. They are certain and proprietary in their claim that only they know and understand me and my "mental illness". They cannot bear that others, in their genuine openness to reality, both mine, and the greater reality of God, are the ones who are capable of healing and helping me, while everything opus dei and the abc boys advocate and force down my throat is pure poison to me. Really, I am not in such bad shape, except insofar as the Inquisitor's poison pharmaceuticals and brain implants have made me so, and all I have to do is escape their sphere of influence, and I CAN be healed. Of course, that is the trick, and I don't see it happening anytime soon for this current administraation is working hand in glove with my tormentors. All I can do is pray to God to give me the strength to survive my tormentor's tortures and endure my loneliness---for a big part of the Inquisition's game plan is to isolate me--that i swhy every time I am to meet with someone--and this includes Dale tooo, I get so waylaid with drugs that I can barely function. You poor sick miserable bastards. I don't know how you can stand your own evil. But I can't think on it. I am too busy trying to stand your own evil forced upon me, for my own benefit.