I remember lying awake night after night, the world silent around me while my thoughts raced. Desperate for relief, I sought help from a doctor, who handed me a prescription for sleeping pills. At first, they felt like a blessing, carrying me gently into slumber. But soon, they turned into a curse.

I was supposed to take them for just 15 days, but I couldn’t stop. My life began to unravel; I was irritable, got into fights with my friends, and felt like I was slowly agonizing. When the prescription ended, I turned to an online pharmacy and before I knew it, I was ordering bottles regularly.

With each bottle, my dependency grew. Six pills a night became my new norm, but sleep was still a stranger. I was sluggish, my thoughts muddled, and my speech slurred. My friends noticed and begged me to get sober, but I was trapped in a haze I couldn’t escape.

In my desperation, I started writing reminders on my walls: “Stop taking pills.” Then, one night, something in me snapped. As I swallowed my usual dose, a wave of disgust washed over me. The scent, the taste, the way it made me feel – I hated it all. I realized then that I had to fight this.

Turning to Alcoholic Anonymous literature, I found stories that mirrored my own, even though my addiction was to pills. I started with walks, which turned into jogs, feeling a bit more like myself with each stride. My mind began to clear, and my spirit lifted.

The day I booked a trip for myself was a milestone. After two weeks away, I returned a new person. More active, mentally sharper, I was no longer a victim of my circumstances but a survivor, empowered and strong.

Now, nine years sober, I look back at that time as a crucial chapter in my life. Those pills, though a dark phase, led me to a journey of self-discovery. I emerged from the shadows not just unscathed, but stronger, wiser, and full of hope.