The Beginning of the Worst Period of My Life
The worst period of my life began in March of 2001, but to fully understand the depth of my suffering, I need to first lay the groundwork.
My mother had been living with inherited peripheral neuropathy for years. I had watched her endure excruciating pain in her feet and hands since my early years in high school. The condition gradually robbed her of sensation—by its later stages, she couldn’t even feel the heat from an oven. Her agony was constant, yet she continued to work and perform her daily tasks as if nothing was wrong. I deeply admired her strength and perseverance in the face of such suffering.
But beneath my admiration was an unshakable fear—I was terrified that I would someday inherit the same condition, that my fate was already written in my DNA. That fear loomed over me like a shadow, always present in my mind.
By 2001, I was 45 years old and held the demanding position of VP District Manager. The pressure was relentless. I was managing multiple stores and juggling responsibilities that often felt impossible to meet. Adding to this, we had purchased a “diamond in the rough” home that demanded constant attention. Managing contractors, deciding on flooring, fixing mold issues, and keeping up with our old house created another layer of intense pressure.
The Tipping Point: September 17th, 2001
The tipping point came on September 17th, 2001. The week prior, the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center had left the entire country in fear, and the national atmosphere of uncertainty only intensified my own stress.
On that day, while building a deck at our new home, I suffered a back spasm unlike anything I had ever felt before. It struck with the force of a sledgehammer, leaving me paralyzed and gasping for air. That injury triggered acute, unrelenting insomnia. Night after night, I could not sleep. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest. My heart raced, palpitations struck, and I felt as if I had consumed gallons of coffee.
The First Pills: Serax
Desperate for relief, I remembered that my father had been prescribed Serax (oxazepam) for his own sleep issues after a stressful dental procedure. I took one of the pills he had left over, and BOOM—I got my first full night of sleep. It was incredible. Being someone who had never used alcohol or drugs, the effect was dramatic. I did not want to rely on a pill, so I stopped after one dose.
But after four nights without sleep, desperation won, and I took another. This cycle continued: resisting, failing, and giving in to the need for rest.
I eventually ran out of the three-week supply my father had, so I called my doctor’s office to request a refill. At that time, I had no visit, no proper evaluation, and no diagnosis—the prescription was issued over the phone. A new nurse practitioner refilled it for a month, and I began using it regularly to manage my insomnia while still working under immense pressure.
The Emergence of Anxiety and Depression
It was during this period that I began experiencing my first signs of anxiety and depression. My mood became unstable, my thoughts racing, my energy unpredictable. When I finally decided to see a psychologist for my depression, I was prescribed Klonopin (clonazepam), another benzodiazepine.
Looking back, I now realize that it was the combination of Serax and Klonopin—both drugs in the benzodiazepine class—that caused much of the mental health turmoil I experienced.
How Benzodiazepines Affect the Brain
Benzodiazepines, which include Serax, Klonopin, Xanax, Valium, Ativan, and others, work by enhancing the activity of GABA, the brain’s primary inhibitory neurotransmitter. GABA slows neural activity, producing calm and promoting sleep.
Initially, these medications are highly effective. But repeated use—even short-term or intermittent—can cause the brain to adapt, altering receptor sensitivity and the balance of neurotransmitters. This adaptation can lead to:
- Withdrawal symptoms
- Rebound anxiety
- Insomnia
- Depression
- Thoughts of suicide
My experience is a perfect example: I was careful, responsible, and had no history of substance use, yet the medications rewired my brain temporarily, creating months of anxiety, sleeplessness, and depression that seemed inexplicable at the time.
A Broader Societal Problem
This is not just my story. Across our society, benzodiazepines are widely prescribed and often overused, sometimes without proper evaluation or supervision. Millions rely on them for sleep or anxiety relief, not realizing dependence can develop within weeks. The effects are subtle at first, making the danger easy to overlook. Long-term use or abrupt discontinuation can trigger severe mental health crises, cognitive impairment, functional decline, and even suicidal ideation.
It is my strong opinion that the widespread use of benzodiazepines and similar drugs has contributed to a growing crisis in our society—leading many young people down a path of dependence, homelessness, and, tragically, suicide. These medications are powerful and useful, but they need to be controlled more strictly, prescribed more carefully, and accompanied by education about the real risks, so others do not endure the kind of prolonged suffering I experienced.
Recovery and Reflection
In my case, recovery was slow but steady. Through determination, prayer, and support from family and colleagues, I survived. I returned to work, rebuilt my life, and eventually embarked on new ventures, including opening my own antique store.
I was lucky that my use of these drugs was limited to a four-month period. I can’t believe people use them long-term. Today, I do not take any medications, and over 24 years later, I am in the happiest place in my life, without ever feeling the shadow of what I endured in 2001. That experience changed me: it made me stronger, deepened my faith, and gave me a profound understanding of those who suffer from mental health issues.
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