I was 15 and things were going wrong at home, so my mom wanted me to get prescribed a “happy pill,”
little did we know that my entire life would change and slowly but surely go down hill.
I thought the core of my problems were at home, where I did not do anything right and I often felt so alone,
instead she thought that I was the only problem, and that my issues were mine and not her own.
I was on Honor Roll, had a good group of friends, and played sports for my school, like swimming and basketball,
but when my doctor prescribed me Xanax, I just about stopped everything, and began to only accept the “bad kid’s” call.
I stopped caring, it was like the “happy pill” only made me ‘happy’ because I became careless and numb,
I quickly began skipping school and going to smoke weed with my new friends for fun.
By ‘new,’ I mean the “wild ones” who also didn’t have a care in the world because we all had a piece of trauma that made our world a storm,
not the preppy and popular kids that I once knew, because now the broken, wild ones made my heart a little bit more warm.
Looking back, I now know why I began to hangout with the ones who were living careless and free,
because broken, confused, misunderstood, and alone is the only things at the time, I felt that I could be.
So being with others who felt the same way, made me feel like I was not the only one who was living on the edge,
even though little did I know, I was still ultimately all alone and it was just a matter of time, before I too would officially fall off the ledge.
I had my prescription now, taking a few pills a day, continuing to make bad choices, smoking weed and skipping school,
Until something else happened at home where I went to the school resource officer the next day, but by the time I made it home, I was made out to be the fool.
That was the last straw for me, and I think my mom too,
so my dad who lived a half hour away got full custody of me and my dreams had come true.
But living with my dad didn’t change my ways, because the “happy pills” still had me in the end,
he got me my first car at 16, and I wrecked it going over a hill one rainy night after work because I missed a bend.
I broke a few bones and totaled my car, which led to my dad asking my mom, why she would even put me on Xanax in the first place,
after informing her what they truly are, she called the doctor and had me kicked off of them cold turkey, just to be safe.
After the ER, I had to go to the psych unit because now I was ultimately withdrawing from the pills,
I just remember feeling even more broken, messed up, and lost while everyone around me had ill wills.
So we had a little family intervention and my dad told my mom, “you just opened up a whole new can of worms,”
and for the next decade to come, I lived a life on and off of prescription and street drugs, but a better life is one I always would yearn.
Til next time, from me to you.
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