Of the Different Modes of Acquiring the Non-Understanding of Things, or One Girl's Touching Journey Into Cynicism and Misanthropy
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Addict (part II)
It is not at all my intention to turn this blog into the Oprah Show or some sort of intervention reality series, but a further word needs to be said about the wild and wacky world of Ambien. In the non-recreational drug context of course.
I've known for a little while I've had a little issue with the magic oblong pill, but unfortunately I've never had anything else to cure my incessant insomnia (except for a brief stint in Chicago involving lots of cold brisk air and plenty of carbs). And insomnia is the one pain I cannot support.
However, as the consistent retrograde amnesia sets in, as well as the inability to remember anyone's names despite how intense our conversations are (leaving me leary of calling anyone anything but "hey you" all evening long, adding to my social awkwardness), I've started to think that maybe it's time to learn to sleep all by my lonesome. Which is going to be tough after nine months of my favorite bedtime companion.
The final wake-up call was the fact that one of my neighbors recently bought my dogs a present of Teddy Graham-like dog biscuits. I don't know if it was the overwhelming nostalgia for child snacks or some perverse sense of curiousity, but I actually ate one to see what it tasted like. Answer: Very bland, but I can see how dogs would like the texture. Alternative answer: put down the prescription bottle immediately.
After extended let's-pretend-I-don't-need-to-study-for-the-bar research, I've encountered several support sites for people going through this same problem. Who all are freaks. Awesome. Confirmation. (I am also not hyperlinking to them, because I still think it's great when people work on their issues. Like when fat people jog. Or when someone realizes they need to stop mentioning fat people so much in their blog.)
Unfortunately, easing off of Ambien in steps is not really an option for me since I've tried several times and failed, owing both to the rebound insomnia, and missing that half hour of believing the world is actually a decent place. Instead, I decided the best option (with 3 barbri-less days ahead of me) is just to go cold turkey already.
So, how to get rid of my little treasure trove? Well, flushing was not an option since I have a firm belief that our water supply is far too tainted with prescriptions anyway. And unfortunately, the garbage really wasn't either since I might get it into my head to start digging. I needed to get rid of them in a way in which I was sure they would be consumed and placed far beyond my reach.
That is, I gave them to my neighbor. Or rather, neighbor(s) since my neighbor now has a new roommate who is an orphaned former stripper raised in the Quarta'. (Actually, the two make quite a pair and it's been awhile since I've seen my neighbor happy, so life is good. Although, I found a place I'm going to put an offer on this week.)
The best part is as I'm walking down the stairs after reluctantly turning over my remaining pills, my neighbor calls out her assurances.
"You know, you did the right thing. This stuff makes people hallucinate and all sort of stuff. If you don't go to sleep within 10 minutes of taking it, you shouldn't be messing with this crazy shit. Good girl."
Life has a surprising way of reminding me that maybe I'm really the crazy one.
Crunching conundrums, blasting boredom, eliciting criticism, languishing while laughing, blaming poetry (and/or the lack of) for all of my choices, leaving it to the stars or the people better equipped to handle it, cackling at catastrophe and saying sayanora to sourpusses and sore losers