The Ambien Ride

Whoo boy! I recently hurt my back and have been having a lot of trouble sleeping recently. I mentioned this to a friend at work and they handed me a cute little pill and said, “Take this, it’ll help you sleep.”

“What is it?”, I asked.

“Oh, it’s just an Ambien.”

And off I went. I figured, what the hell, I’ll just pop this cute little pill and get some sleep finally. If that were only the case. I did take the pill, in the afternoon, of what I’m assuming and hoping was yesterday. I don’t really know. I woke up at 3am on an egg crate, on the floor, my bed stripped of all bedding and my kids sleeping on the couches (the couch part is normal on a weekend).

I had a moment of panic because I literally could not remember the last 17 hours. Did I bake a batch of brownies? Did I streak through downtown San Anselmo? Maybe, I have no clue. As a recovering alcoholic, this scares me. I don’t like not knowing what I’ve done. Luckily, the craziest thing it seems I did was go to Safeway at 6am to get my boys their ritualistic Sunday morning doughnuts. It’s a tradition that has been passed to this generation from my stepdad, John. It’s still a fond memory of waking up to a dozen doughnuts from Dunkin Donuts and we would lounge around on Sunday morning eating doughnuts while reading the Union Leader and Boston Globe.

I guess that, all in all, last night wasn’t the worst night, but I’d rather not repeat it. I will start the day with my boys and coffee and doughnuts, and I will always wonder why my bed is naked, as naked as I was when I woke, and just know that Ambien is not my friend.

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