Nobody asked for life to deal us with these bullshit hands we're dealt.
This is a drug-related post.
Just thought I should give you a warning.
Ativan ( Alzapam, Loraz, Lorazepam Intensol )
Ativan (Lorazepam) is an anti-anxiety agent used for the relief of anxiety, agitation and irritability, to relieve insomnia, to calm people with mania / schizophrenia and intravenously as a sedative and for nervous tension or to relieve anxiety prior to surgery. It has less of an effect on the liver than other benzodiazepines, making it better suited if you are taking birth control pills, anti-abuse drugs, propranolol, ulcer medications, or any other drug that affects the liver. Ativan (Lorazepam) may also be used to help in the prevention of severe alcohol withdraw symptoms, to treat amnesia, or in patients who are undergoing chemotherapy and have severe vomiting. It may be given to children to treat serial seizures by placing it under the tongue.
Overdose symptoms include: Confusion, loss of consciousness, fine tremor, sleepiness, irregular heartbeat, severe skin rash, fever, and yellowing of the skin and eyes.
Narcotics may increase the sedative effects of this drug. Do not take other sedatives, benzodiazepines or sleeping pills with this drug. The combinations could be fatal. Do not drink alcohol when taking any benzodiazepine. Alcohol can lower blood pressure and decrease your breathing rate to the point of unconsciousness. The habit-forming potential of this drug is high. Do not stop taking this drug abruptly; this could cause psychological and physical withdrawal symptoms.
Alzapam and marijuana.
Lance overdosed last night.
He'd come in earlier with a rash--- Fucking everywhere. Just covered from back to stomach. Scars or bruises, or bites...
Hives maybe. Whatever the case, his skin was a mess.
Maybe the high was just slow to burn, but it hit an hour later.
Screaming, cursing, slamming against the wall... More angry, more violent than I've ever seen him. ---For lack of a better word, demonic. The voice wasn't even his own, and what was spoken made no sense at all. A bark, almost. Like speech was no longer possible.
To my [complete] surprise our father stepped up, himself a recovering addict.
"He's high. Not a normal high either, so leave him alone. Talking, words aren't going to do shit. Lectures... Scolding... He's beyond that shit right now."
So, we took his keys. Took his phone. I kept them locked in my room.
He was the threat. Outside was the danger. We had to stop him from running.
Dad was firm, for once. His warning clear and precise.
"Don't let him leave this house. If he runs into the cops, he's fucked. If he runs into a tree, he's dead. If he gets into a fight, one of two things will happen: he's going to kill, or get himself killed. If you took his shit, keep it hidden. Don't let him go outside."
"So what's... What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know. He's all fucked up. He's sick."
Mom was already crying.
I decided that I would not.
["What good are those tears right now? Is he dying? If he dies tonight, what then? No, that's stupid. He's not going to die, it's too much. Not right now. Not... Ever. Another death would be too fucked up. Besides, it's too damned soon. ---2 deaths in a year? It wouldn't make sense for him to die. He can't die tonight, that wouldn't make sense!"]
Having stayed awake the night before, I'd gone kind of loopy myself. Shaking.
I felt my own pocket of pills. It couldn't hurt to take just one. Maybe two.
Just the Xanax for tonight. Just to calm myself enough to think.
["He's always running away from something. Fuck! Am I? Is it different for me? Different because of my diagnosis? These are legal, legit, so... It's not like that, I'm not like him. I'm not scared. I'm stronger than he is. I don't let this shit control me! It's because he's weak and can't say 'no'. Just a stupid fucking jellyfish. Just like a goddamned puppet! Maybe I don't even need this shit..."]
"Hide them" was my first thought, but then that mocking voice again.
"You just want them all to yourself."
Lance was almost alert then. Talking. Crying.
He'd done a lot of crying.
At any rate, he was alive. A simpering, sobbing wreck, but not cold on the bathroom tile.
"I'm sorry."
More tears.
I knew he'd cry, he always cries. No different from when we were kids.
He'd be the first, and I'd follow suit, crying hard if not the hardest.
His voice was breaking again, the cracks in mine were starting to show, both of us on the edge of collapse. It wasn't long before he started, whining again, I mean.
Just grit your teeth and breathe. He needs you to hold it together. He needs you not to cry.
"It's alright."
I wasn't going to last much longer. Once upon a time, I was the one saying 'sorry'. I was addicted to my disorder, with demons of my own to face. ---As if any of that was in the past.
Weakened, scared, and begging for forgiveness.
This wasn't any different.
"I'm sorry!"
"I don't need an apology."
"But I'm sorry!"
"Stop saying that!"
We were hugged up then. I couldn't breathe.
His grip was biting my shoulder.
"I'm a terrible brother!"
"Stop whining. I thought you were coming down..."
Wrong fucking thing to say.
If anything, he just cried harder.
"I never came home! We used to be friends! We did everything together!"
"You are my best friend! Nothing's changed! We don't have to leave it behind!"
We'd been shouting. He was quiet for a moment then. Thinking, I guess.
"We are."
Say it.
A different voice. Something else.
"I know--- Your shit's not the same as my shit, but you and I aren't that different. I was in that dark place too, and I've been thinking a lot on my own. Just thinking about this shit. How I got to where I am. ---How to get out."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm going to try harder."
"It's not about trying harder! Just take your time. Figure out what's fucking with you in the first place. I mean it. Think about all the crazy, stupid shit I've done. ---Still do... It's not just a matter of trying! I've had to figure things out for myself. By myself. You've got shit to figure out too, so, we'll fix ourselves a piece at a time. We'll hang out, and--"
"Yeah. I missed that."
"Play games, like we used to. Sit around and just play all the time. ---Like nothing's changed at all."
"Nothing's changed?"
"No. Nothing's changed."
Nothing's changed, but everything's changed.
I didn't sleep at all last night.
[And what was the use. I was too fucking wired.]
I stared at the wall. Watched him sleep.
It wasn't enough.
I grabbed a popsicle from the freezer, stuffed the shit in my mouth, and cried.
He's an addict. An addict. ---And I'm no better than he is.
It's not the last time. I can't protect him anymore.
He's running. Both of us, running.
He needs to stop running.
I need to stop running.
___
I'm getting tired. Incoherent. Just rambling now.
It's almost 8 a.m. already, and the time for sleep has passed [all these sedatives and sleeping pills, and I don't have the balls to take one].
I should chuck the pills, I think.
Get this shit out of the house.
I probably will. Just recover altogether.
I don't know.
I don't know how to beat this.
His shit... My shit...
I really don't know.
But---
The next asshole to ask me for pills, is going to get kicked in the throat.
I don't know a lot, but I know that.
Just thought I should give you a warning.
Ativan ( Alzapam, Loraz, Lorazepam Intensol )
Ativan (Lorazepam) is an anti-anxiety agent used for the relief of anxiety, agitation and irritability, to relieve insomnia, to calm people with mania / schizophrenia and intravenously as a sedative and for nervous tension or to relieve anxiety prior to surgery. It has less of an effect on the liver than other benzodiazepines, making it better suited if you are taking birth control pills, anti-abuse drugs, propranolol, ulcer medications, or any other drug that affects the liver. Ativan (Lorazepam) may also be used to help in the prevention of severe alcohol withdraw symptoms, to treat amnesia, or in patients who are undergoing chemotherapy and have severe vomiting. It may be given to children to treat serial seizures by placing it under the tongue.
Overdose symptoms include: Confusion, loss of consciousness, fine tremor, sleepiness, irregular heartbeat, severe skin rash, fever, and yellowing of the skin and eyes.
Narcotics may increase the sedative effects of this drug. Do not take other sedatives, benzodiazepines or sleeping pills with this drug. The combinations could be fatal. Do not drink alcohol when taking any benzodiazepine. Alcohol can lower blood pressure and decrease your breathing rate to the point of unconsciousness. The habit-forming potential of this drug is high. Do not stop taking this drug abruptly; this could cause psychological and physical withdrawal symptoms.
Alzapam and marijuana.
Lance overdosed last night.
He'd come in earlier with a rash--- Fucking everywhere. Just covered from back to stomach. Scars or bruises, or bites...
Hives maybe. Whatever the case, his skin was a mess.
Maybe the high was just slow to burn, but it hit an hour later.
Screaming, cursing, slamming against the wall... More angry, more violent than I've ever seen him. ---For lack of a better word, demonic. The voice wasn't even his own, and what was spoken made no sense at all. A bark, almost. Like speech was no longer possible.
To my [complete] surprise our father stepped up, himself a recovering addict.
"He's high. Not a normal high either, so leave him alone. Talking, words aren't going to do shit. Lectures... Scolding... He's beyond that shit right now."
So, we took his keys. Took his phone. I kept them locked in my room.
He was the threat. Outside was the danger. We had to stop him from running.
Dad was firm, for once. His warning clear and precise.
"Don't let him leave this house. If he runs into the cops, he's fucked. If he runs into a tree, he's dead. If he gets into a fight, one of two things will happen: he's going to kill, or get himself killed. If you took his shit, keep it hidden. Don't let him go outside."
"So what's... What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know. He's all fucked up. He's sick."
Mom was already crying.
I decided that I would not.
["What good are those tears right now? Is he dying? If he dies tonight, what then? No, that's stupid. He's not going to die, it's too much. Not right now. Not... Ever. Another death would be too fucked up. Besides, it's too damned soon. ---2 deaths in a year? It wouldn't make sense for him to die. He can't die tonight, that wouldn't make sense!"]
Having stayed awake the night before, I'd gone kind of loopy myself. Shaking.
I felt my own pocket of pills. It couldn't hurt to take just one. Maybe two.
Just the Xanax for tonight. Just to calm myself enough to think.
["He's always running away from something. Fuck! Am I? Is it different for me? Different because of my diagnosis? These are legal, legit, so... It's not like that, I'm not like him. I'm not scared. I'm stronger than he is. I don't let this shit control me! It's because he's weak and can't say 'no'. Just a stupid fucking jellyfish. Just like a goddamned puppet! Maybe I don't even need this shit..."]
"Hide them" was my first thought, but then that mocking voice again.
"You just want them all to yourself."
Lance was almost alert then. Talking. Crying.
He'd done a lot of crying.
At any rate, he was alive. A simpering, sobbing wreck, but not cold on the bathroom tile.
"I'm sorry."
More tears.
I knew he'd cry, he always cries. No different from when we were kids.
He'd be the first, and I'd follow suit, crying hard if not the hardest.
His voice was breaking again, the cracks in mine were starting to show, both of us on the edge of collapse. It wasn't long before he started, whining again, I mean.
Just grit your teeth and breathe. He needs you to hold it together. He needs you not to cry.
"It's alright."
I wasn't going to last much longer. Once upon a time, I was the one saying 'sorry'. I was addicted to my disorder, with demons of my own to face. ---As if any of that was in the past.
Weakened, scared, and begging for forgiveness.
This wasn't any different.
"I'm sorry!"
"I don't need an apology."
"But I'm sorry!"
"Stop saying that!"
We were hugged up then. I couldn't breathe.
His grip was biting my shoulder.
"I'm a terrible brother!"
"Stop whining. I thought you were coming down..."
Wrong fucking thing to say.
If anything, he just cried harder.
"I never came home! We used to be friends! We did everything together!"
"You are my best friend! Nothing's changed! We don't have to leave it behind!"
We'd been shouting. He was quiet for a moment then. Thinking, I guess.
"We are."
Say it.
A different voice. Something else.
"I know--- Your shit's not the same as my shit, but you and I aren't that different. I was in that dark place too, and I've been thinking a lot on my own. Just thinking about this shit. How I got to where I am. ---How to get out."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm going to try harder."
"It's not about trying harder! Just take your time. Figure out what's fucking with you in the first place. I mean it. Think about all the crazy, stupid shit I've done. ---Still do... It's not just a matter of trying! I've had to figure things out for myself. By myself. You've got shit to figure out too, so, we'll fix ourselves a piece at a time. We'll hang out, and--"
"Yeah. I missed that."
"Play games, like we used to. Sit around and just play all the time. ---Like nothing's changed at all."
"Nothing's changed?"
"No. Nothing's changed."
Nothing's changed, but everything's changed.
I didn't sleep at all last night.
[And what was the use. I was too fucking wired.]
I stared at the wall. Watched him sleep.
It wasn't enough.
I grabbed a popsicle from the freezer, stuffed the shit in my mouth, and cried.
He's an addict. An addict. ---And I'm no better than he is.
It's not the last time. I can't protect him anymore.
He's running. Both of us, running.
He needs to stop running.
I need to stop running.
___
I'm getting tired. Incoherent. Just rambling now.
It's almost 8 a.m. already, and the time for sleep has passed [all these sedatives and sleeping pills, and I don't have the balls to take one].
I should chuck the pills, I think.
Get this shit out of the house.
I probably will. Just recover altogether.
I don't know.
I don't know how to beat this.
His shit... My shit...
I really don't know.
But---
The next asshole to ask me for pills, is going to get kicked in the throat.
I don't know a lot, but I know that.