Xanax: My Devil, My Mistress.

Making the altered book is part of my therapy. You’ll hear a lot about my altered book. I’m sure I’ll be persuaded to take pictures. You can google “altered book” or “art journal” and get an idea, but know that I’m nowhere *near* as awesome as ...well, all of them are. Mine is my own, and it’s my therapy, and it’s been a lifesaver. It’s a never-ending project, and I absolutely love working on it.

In texting B, I told him what my current project was, and he said “yeah, you told me already.”

When I’m telling Jen about that text, I was pissed and frustrated, because I had absolutely no memory of telling him about my project, and this was not the first time losing memory had happened. I’d had instances of weirdness happen with her as well. I was having a waking dream of Oliver standing in my room talking to me about “mom” (Jen) going to DQ for ice cream - normally I would go with her. So I start screaming for Jen,  because if I tried to stand I would likely bash my face into the wall. She didn’t answer me because she was cooking dinner for her family. Me - pissed that she’s not answering me - starts calling for “mom”, knowing that she would answer that. She comes to my door and opens it - Oliver cannot open my door - my first indicator that that was a waking dream. She said “I’ve got ten seconds - what do you want?!?!?” ...and I could not verbalize what I wanted, just stuttered out some random bullshit. Jen reminds me of this situation the next day, but it feels like it happened *weeks* ago, in addition to the fact that I barely remembered what the hell she was talking about.

Xanax. Xanax is to blame, my devil.

How the devil looks in my head. Since Bedazzled, anyway.

I opened up my folder on the computer just now, looking to write some fresh material, knowing that friends want to see a blog from me, and I want to have a backlog of stuff ready to edit before I post.

There’s an entry I do not remember writing. I look at it. It’s completely off the wall, misspellings, rantings that I would *never* say out loud (really loopy stuff)...a xanax post.

I immediately started shaking and having a mild panic attack...therefore this post becomes a xanax post. I’ll edit it without xanax, but I’m admitting here and now that I’m writing it while I’m on it.

I’m going to say bad things about it, but know that I’m an addict. I can’t be without xanax. The thought of living without it makes my blood run cold. I have two pills left in my bottle and I can’t refill for SEVEN DAYS, and that causes further anxiety. It would want to make me smoke cigarettes, but I’ve been steadily trying (really really trying) to stop smoking. I’ve only smoked when truly stressed (and once to hide the weed breath that I had). But seriously - maybe two cigarettes a week, max.

My sister tells me (and EVERYTHING that Jen says is gospel - don’t forget that) that if you take your xanax every day for seven days, it’s got it’s hooks in you.

It’s had its hooks in me since right around my first miscarriage - late 2007. A friend/coworker pointed out to me that I cried quite a bit, and she was worried about me. I would cry out of frustration on a regular basis, and unfortunately for Ape, she had to kind of hold me together while she did her (very important) job. And we didn’t even work for the same department, although she had had my position previously, so could do it backwards while sleeping. (I’m not saying that she did my work, just that she would point out ways that I could drop some stressors. She may have done an allergen check, but I digress.)

OH buddy - here’s where I feel it. It might get loopy, my typing is sucking right now.

I’ve been on the whole barrage of xanax - .25, .5, 1mg, and my (and junkies!) fav, the coveted 2 mg bar.

I've been through all of them.

Getting the bar was a mistake. I had a full bottle - like...I had gotten it filled the day before - I barely remember, cause I chewed at least four of them immediately.

When you’re on the 2 mg bars, they GUARANTEE you will be an addict. Heh. I was an addict straight out of the womb. My first drug?? Caffeine, bitches!! And then nicotine!!

The day after I got a fresh bottle of 2 mg bars, I tried to kill myself. With full intention of it being completely deadly serious, (and YOU, Dear Reader, would not be reading this, but would have attended my funeral in March 2015. Theoretically. I don’t want to make myself sound popular or anything HAHA). The fact that I got the prescription for the 2mg bars and the suicide attempt don’t have much to do with the other, other than the fact that it became easier for me to get massive amounts of xanax into my system with all the other pills I was eating. I remember stuffing a handful in my face after I had eaten two handfuls of my poison of choice. I apparently stuffed a LOT more pills in my face, and *shocker* I don’t remember that.

But that’s a story for another day. The point of me telling you this was that I tried to kill myself, and once again xanax was involved.

Xanax has amnestic properties, as well as full-out anterograde amnesia. Remember when I said that I’ve told B about things and then had absolutely no memory of it? This is how wikipedia defines it: Anterograde amnesia is a loss of the ability to create new memories after the event that caused the amnesia, leading to a partial or complete inability to recall the recent past, while long-term memories from before the event remain intact.

I have chunks and pieces of memories after I swallowed all those pills in March. Since then, every time I take a dose of xanax (even my small ones), I essentially brown out. It doesn’t matter that I’m taking therapeutic doses. It matters that I’m taking xanax, and it will lead right to the part of my brain that is completely wiped by that drug. Do I still take it? You betcha! Every day. Apparently, too much on some days, or I wouldn’t find myself in the predicament of having only two tablets and a whole week to go. Where did those tabs go? I’m guessing - right now - that I took them after I had already taken some xanax, and I have absolutely no memory of doing so. Since I take them in my bedroom, I have no way of knowing that’s what I’m doing.

I have no real wrap-up for this. I’m not going to be Judgy McJudgerson and stand on my soapbox and tell you that “XANAX IS WRONG AND YOU SHOULD STOP IT RIGHT NOW!” because I’m still on it - every single day. It can help. It *did* and *does* help me, regardless of the fact that I gray-out or brown-out some of my life. Right now, there’s not a ton of my life that I’d really like to remember (other than being with my family, I do love that, but ultimately I’m not happy). If you’re *considering* taking the drug, make sure you read up on it, and don’t let your doctor just force it on you - which they likely will not if you voice concerns - and VOICE YOUR CONCERNS. It’s important that YOU be a part of YOUR health care team. You should be the Captain, not the doctor.



xoxoxoxoxo