June 13, 2006
Swallowing some pills to feel better has never in this world been an unusual thing. Drugs have been around for quite some time. I’ve read that the great psychiatrist, Sigmund Freud at one point declared cocaine to be an excellent medicine for depression. The use of antidepressants like Prozac has become commonplace akin to taking Tylenol. I’d cringe at the thought of overdosing on my precious body with such over the counter medicines, incessantly reading the warning label to prescribe myself properly. But now I feel less inclined to fear the consequences of a drug. The greatest influence in this change has been watching people whom I admire unapologetically talk about their drug use, while physically looking unnoticeably affected by these ‘harmful poisons.’ The people I’m talking about are stars, famous people in the media spotlight. They smoke cigarettes and it mostly just makes them look cooler or deeper in character. I’ve struggled with debilitating anxiety, which could be labeled as a ‘disorder’, totally reluctant for years to be medicated. But after reaching a desperate point, I said to myself, “If cool @$$ Johnny Depp experimented with drugs, why not me?”
My gradual acceptance of drug use has come at a time when I’ve been unable to even sit in a classroom without having my heart beating, unbearable nervous tension all over my body. The social anxiety managed to keep me almost locked up in my room. At the age of 22, the choices in life have gotten tighter; more pressure to do things I’ve never done. Watching TV or scanning the internet turned into a major outlet for me. I began to look for heroes; people to admire. I read about artists, Pablo Picasso, then about fighters, Bruce Lee (he smoked marijuana), Muhammad Ali (he put on an act of admirable confidence), then came the beautiful people like Johnny Depp, Gia Carangi, and Brad Pitt. I was mesmerized by Depp’s interview on a show called “Inside the Actor’s Studio” on BravoTv. It was enough to make me want to watch all of his movies and want to learn everything about him. I discovered he tried LSD, weed, heroin, drank and chain smoked cigarettes. I was intrigued by his movies as well. “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” featured him portraying Hunter Thomson, a journalist, high on acid, bum-rushing hotel room lobbies while seeing hideous lizard creatures. It made being high look kind of fun. The various characters he’s been able to portray only added to my interest in emulating him.
Seeing someone with such James Dean-esque cool may only be part of the story. I see it as the main weight in tipping the scale toward an open mindedness in an avenue which was constantly suggested to me. That direction, drugs, the use of it prescribed in the form of antidepressant, I was told was a necessity for me. I didn’t believe the doctors or my parents. Taking a pill which I read caused all kinds of crazy side effects scared me. My own ignorant mother telling me forcibly I had a problem and needed to take medicine only pushed my reluctance further. It was ridiculous for her to be saying that to me, when her husband was an abusive socio-path and I had been the one to succumb to his cruel attitude. She should have been telling him to take medicine! It led me to be confused and angered more and more. My anxiety became worse. My isolation more pronounced.
I could stand only so little of the same routine of hiding out for a couple years, especially when I’m ‘supposed’ to be going to college. Time, along with many lonely trips to the library added to the craziness perpetually erupting in my head. The pain manifested as a, ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude, which imploded from time to time, sinking me to a place deep enough where I’d decide to look for my own help. I visited various counselors finally giving in to there suggestions to swallow pills and magically feel better.
The first medicine I tried was Zoloft, an antidepressant, given to me in a small sample packet. I felt sleepy the first week but by the next, I could already notice myself with more confidence. Everyday at school got 1% better but it was still unbearable. The next drug to be prescribed was the Xanax, an anti-anxiety pill, followed by Clonazapam, another tranquilizer. I noticed them numbing my reactions to a day at school, though not satisfyingly. I thought the Zoloft was quite a miracle worker, although less convincingly as time went on. I managed to stick through the 05-06’ school year with a full-time student course load. My grades suffered; I received letters I never saw in high school. It was my first time getting C’s and D’s as a final grade. Math tests which I could have aced turned into F’s because my mind had been in a whirlwind of hyper vigilance during the lectures. In no way was this how I imagined my life to be like at 21.
Work was no exception. During the four years after my high school graduation I went from job to job, probably around 13 different ones. None of them lasted longer then 2 months, with the exception of a job working sales for a friendly stranger I ran into, which served as a comfortable place to kill time. Until she turned suspicious of my motives for staying so long without pay. The anxiety was unforgiving. In other jobs, my eyes dilated, I had no need for food whatsoever, and my face grew frozen in despair. Time and the prescribed drugs did take effect, allowing some hope in my hopelessness. This slight edge taken off my anxiety allowed a more positive view on the ability for me to hold down a job. I began filling out employment applications again, eventually landing a job in a large health food store type market. I had bullshitteded the facts on my application and lied on my comfort level with customers. I couldn’t see myself getting a job in any other way.
Every time I was scheduled to go to work, I prepared. I took my pills, however much I felt I’d need to get through the day. It was still overwhelming. I began drinking alcohol everyday on my walk over to the job to calm myself down. I even sipped out of my bottle at my register. My altered state offered a new experience that I kind of liked. Doing it a number of times, I could see myself able to change into a different mood for the better. It showed me that I could have more confidence then I believed. It was also a way to not have to feel the way I normally felt; anxious like a motherfucker.
People I’d seen on TV influenced me to take these risks. Television and movies were my escape and the people in it were my guides. I wanted the same presence these people had. Doing what I’d heard them do, took me beyond my usual self. Because I had no family, maybe it was a way to cope through my suffering. I still continue to take risks today, not knowing what exactly I’m looking for. My perspective has changed through emulation. Drugs may have been the answer for me after all. But a connection to humans too is what I may have desperately wanted. It is hard to say what use the drugs would have ever had, had I never been left alone to face such hard times.
And the story goes on.....
drugs don't work for me anymore, there can be some serious consequences to these brain altering drugs, they can take the edge off, but generalized s.a.d. requires a lot more than that.
