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Enter, my teenage years. Originally put on alprazolam by a psychomedication-oriented pediatric psychiatrist for what was at the time, thought to be generalized anxiety disorder (I do have anxiety, it’s complicated, and I’ll explain this at some point), I had absolutely no idea what I was going into when I took that first pill. And I really don’t remember a lot of my life, I am autistic (this compounds to the aforementioned complications), and I think this contributes a lot to this, and of course, benzodiazepines themselves, but I remember the exact day, the exact clothes that I was wearing when I took my first benzodiazepine. Black denim jeans, a salmon tee-shirt, run over with a black button down. I was sixteen, and I had the little ovoid-white 250μg tablets of alprazolam I had just been prescribed nestled in one hand, and a Turkish cigarette in the other ~ myself perched against the brick divider in the back patio. Man. I thought that I was so cool. I had no idea how my life was about to change, forever. I took (several, so already off to a great start here) of the pills that I had been prescribed, and that was it folks. That’s all she wrote. Today, it’s like I’m first waking up just about 15 years later.

…not literally but, in essence, it’s taken me that many years to completely cessate the use of benzodiazepines, and *all* GABAergic substances in my life. This path of recovery has been a literal journey, and I knew that it would be rough when I finally decided to get clean four months ago, but I had no clue I would be smacked in the face with as mountainous of a trail as I was given. It was very harrowing, and quite inspiring, to show me exactly how deep I had gotten myself this time, and I simply did not want these things having control over me like this anymore. My health was rapidly declining, and while I wouldn't go so far as to say that I was flat-out ruining my relationships with those I loved, I would be a fool to say that I was not massively damaging them. If anything, I cannot imagine how painful it must have been for those that love me the closest to have to sit at the sidelines, watching me do these things to myself, yet simply feeling helpless as to what they could do. They'd tried to help, so many times. But an addict is going to addict. That's just how it is, quite unfortunately. Completely missed and/or blurred nights, days, and even weeks with said family and friends from these substances were also huge compounding factors to my final decision to rid myself of these chemical restraints. Essentially, by the end of it all, there simply was just nothing promising about a prospect for benzodiazepines (or really any GABAergic substance), in my life.

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Anyways, this is my blog. Like I said. I told my barber I was thinking about making a blog, and he said I should do it. And dammit, you guys...

I can’t let Tim down, I really just can’t, you see, that really just wouldn’t do.

So welcome to the journey of my recovery, and of my wacky, eccentric life. I like to think that it is interesting, and I hope that you may pull some value from it yourself while you read.

-Bells