Today I am on drugs.

The clonazepam, while it lifts the anxiety from me to a point where I feel like I can think, for the first time in years, has some unfortunate side-effects.

I’m supposed to take it twice a day, morning and evening.  The morning dose makes me decidedly loopy.  Sort of a half-a-beer-drunk-too-fast sort of feeling, not really drunk but decidedly impaired.  I’ve worked two days like this, no problems.  I would not want to drive in this state, but then, if you’ve seen what the streets here are like, you’d understand that I wouldn’t be keen on driving, period.  I don’t own a car, actually.

Actually, the similarity of effects here may have a great deal to do with why I’m the happiest drunk in the world — alcohol does the same thing to me as clonazepam does, making my brain shut up for a while.

The evening dose mostly just puts me to sleep, but that’s all right.  The problem, I’m finding, is that I need to take it around supper — if I take it much later, I am groggy as fuck in the morning.

My mother is a social worker and works in mental health, particularly geriatrics, particularly elder abuse and… wait for it… addictions.   She is transparently very anxious about me being on a habit-forming drug, even temporarily.  She is quick to remind me of the negative aspects of the drug, and eager for me to try cutting back past what the doctor prescribed.  Today there is a blizzard, and my place of employment is not even opening, so to humour my mother, I’m skipping the morning dose.  Because it’s a quick-acting drug, this isn’t going to screw me up the way skipping an antidepressant would, and because I’m not working, because I’m not sure I should even leave the house today at all, I can see how it goes.  If it gets unbearable, if I have a panic attack, I can take one.  Little is risked with this experiment.

I’ve been up for an hour.  I can feel the tension building in my muscles already.  It starts in my legs, and then my arms.  It doesn’t bode well.  I will try to relax.

Most of the rest of my family has been joking for a couple of weeks now, as I go through this, that I really just need to smoke pot.  At this point, I’m wondering if that wouldn’t be a better solution.  Relaxing?  Potentially less addictive?  Get me a vaporizer and a medical marijuana license, please.   I’d hate trying to buy it off of anyone around here.  It’s all so skeevy.

My sister — and for the sake of clarity, because I have several sisters, I will give her the pseudonym of Florence since she’s a nursing student, also because I think she’d be righteously annoyed and amused at being called Florence — takes a different view, which is one I sort of need to hear right now.  She’s honestly interested in the entire diagnosis, because, well, this is what she’s learning, this is what she’s passionate about.  She worries about me, she says (perhaps more so because it was her birthday party I broke down at), observed that I don’t talk to people about this, but she has a great big drug guide and she can look up clonazepam and is more likely to see it as a useful tool than a potential addiction.

And I think I need to hear that input right now.

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