The beginning of addiction

Pink Roses in Nunney, England

I am so happy I lived to see these pretty roses in at Nunney Castle in Nunney, England in the summer of 2011.  I wished I would not have been in a crazy drug induced haze at the time but I still enjoyed it none the less.

I became addicted to Ativan in 1994.  I am a registered nurse and I had grown tired of working as a supervisor of a small outpatient surgery unit at the hospital where I was working.  I saw an evening shift position on a psychiatric unit and thought that would be easy compared to what I had done in the past.  I would be responsible for a 20 - 30 bed unit small staff, make sure the patients were safe, and give medications.  I thought " no problem ".  Little did I realize what the hell I was getting into.  The beginning of suffering and pain.

I was raised a poor girl in the cotton fields of Hatchie Bottom in Brownsville, Tn.  My father was a cotton farmer and my mother a simple housewife.  But, It was not that simple.  About a year after my sister was born, my mother became delusional, violent, and unmanageable.  She ended up being commited to Western State Hospital in Bolivar Tn in the late 1940's.  The doctor convinced my father that a frontal lobotomy would help my mother, maybe even get her back to normal.  She had this surgery which at the time was being done to many psychiatric patients, the most famous being John F. Kennedy's sister, Rosemary.  It left Rosemary in sad shape and my mother afterwards had to learn some of the most basic functions again, like eating and walking.  It dulled her emotions, and left her with the mind of a 10 to 12 year old child.  This surgery thankfully is no longer being done and seemed to be barbaric even to many at that time.

I noticed at a young age that my mother would get real hostile and aggressive without " her pill ".  I learned to go to the pretty white cabinet in our kitchen and get a pill out of the bottle for her.  After she took it, whoop pee, she would smile and calm down and be happy again.  I would not be afraid anymore and felt happy too after moma got her pill.  She would not always forget to take them, but when she did, I was there.   I realize now at age 51 3 months into my withdrawal from benzodiazepines, that this was the basis for my addiction to these horrible drugs.

Moma told me things that a child should not hear.  She did not understand this, being brain damaged by a barbaric surgery and taking a mind altering drug, Mellaril.  She described all the scary times of being hosed down at the hospital, having electric shock and insulin shock treatments, as well as other experiences.  It was scary hearing all these stories.  I remember thinking as a little girl, " oooh, thats scary.  As a grew older, I remember my father and I driving by the hospital on the way to a horse show, and he told me that was where moma had been.  It was a gothic looking building that looked even scary.  When I became a young adult, I even walked in there, and got a copy of my mother's hospital records.  I didn't like the way it felt, at all.  In fact, I hated the place, knowing what my mother had been thru.

So, in 1994, when I started to work at the psychiatric hospital, I started having anxiety and chest tightness.  So, what do I do, I go to a local psychiatrist.    I had voluntarily admitted myself to a psychiatric hospital in 1993 for depression and I was on Xanax at the time.  I had had a brief time of insomnia and took it.  I was detoxed off of it with phenobarbital easily because I had not been on it very long maybe six months.  I came out of the hospital off all drugs and feeling great until going to work at the psychiatric unit.  I realize now, that thinking there was something wrong with me like my mother, I felt like I needed medication.  Ativan and Prozac was the answer the doctor gave me.  and a new diagnosis " Anxiety Disorder ".  But now, I realize, in childhood, I developed a fear of psychiatric patients and hospitals.  So, when I started working on this unit, my old childhood fears popped up.  I didn't realize it when it happened.  I was really scared and I remember thinking to myself, " I am tough "  " I  can do this ".  What I needed instead of medication, was to leave the psychiatric unit and to transfer to another unit.  Many times in my life I have tried to fake it to make it, ignore my fear, and move forward anyway.  But fear and anxiety is a normal response to a perceirved or real threat.  And it serves us well to protect us.  I knew so little then compared to what I know now.

I have been taking benzodiazepines for 18 years now.  I am 3 months in withdrawal for Klonpin.  My so called " Anxiety Disorder "  turned into depression, Ptsd, child neglect,bipolar, amongst other misdiagnosis.  I cannot describe to you the emotional and physical suffering I have expereinced on these drugs.  But I am going to try.   I have started this blog to tell my story and explain the dangers of taking these drugs as well as inform the public about the damage they do, and to help those who are in withdrawal and want to get off.  Goddess Bless.  JackieM.