My theory being addiction is just another word for love, thankfully I haven't ever fallen in love with a substance. I often times, however, have become enamored. Currently I am enamored with Ambien. What makes it better is that this time around I'm not doing anything illegal. In fact, it's called for.
Some background would probably be necessary. This is something I wrote last semester:
In regard to torture, the USSR really had it's ducks in a row. While I haven't studied Soviet torture techniques specifically, the ancillary knowledge from related topics leads me to the belief. Under the second Bush administration, the United States in some ways had it's ducks even more precisely aligned, but in others just had no idea. US torture techniques were the result of quasi scientific analyses utilized by lawyers and sadistic military personnel working in tandem. Some of the stuff used was sincerely on point. And true to the torture techniques of all liberal democracies, no scars! Yet the US ultimately had no idea what it was doing because a) in the western world you can't get a conviction when there's torture involved b) we used the wrong kind of torture.
Case in point is a favorite Soviet tactic: sleep deprivation. It may sound silly, but former Israeli Prime Minister Menachim Begin (I believe it was) who was subjected to it offered up his opinion that the desire for sleep far and away is greater than that for food or water. Quite simply: after three days, you will do anything. Great tactic for extracting false confessions, terrible for extracting military intelligence as we tried to do. Not only did one detainee confess to masterminding almost all recent terrorist attacks, but also confessed to the sun revolving around the earth.
This is the level I'm on. Gitmo detainees would be given roughly four hours in breaks per 24 for months. I have had 1hr of sleep 27 hours ago and in the past 72 hours have had 4 in bits and pieces. Once every couple of weeks I used to get a solid nine hours. But it's been getting progressively getting worse. Tonight was supposed to be my good sleep night. It's not happening. I want to sleep so badly, but just can't. It dawned on me the other day, that by the definition of most, I'm subjecting myself to torture. At the moment I simply go about is if I were drunk. But jf this were being enforced by someone else my mind would be profoundly fucked.
That entry ended talking about an appointment to see a doctor about sleeping medication. I was wracked with the pain of lack of sleep, grasping for reasons why. Hopefully, I pleaded, they might be able to do something for me. Well, this is about six months later. Since then I went to a few appointments. And upon leaving the last of those doctors' offices I found myself with these lovely little white pills which appear to be crafted from only the waftiest of clouds,
The Ambien has saved me. I can sleep. I try to tough it out a few nights here and there, but end up up layng in bed for seven or eight hours, finding that I had been closing in a quasi-sleep like state during the last forty five minutes or so. Other nights though, I ease gently into dreamland and wake eight or nine hours later fresh as a daisy with feminine wash..
Of course, the reason I'm enamored with Ambien is more than just that. Some of the side effects are a change in the way you feel things. There's a certain quality to freshly washed cold bedsheets that there wasn't before. Walking up and cooking a midnight snack I can feel vastly more textures on the kitchen tile floor than I had previously. The sole of my foot sticks to the clean, cool tile ever, ever so slightly. The air seems freshly condensed, with a hint of cucumber. These are only a few, hopefully to give you an overall idea. But my favorite, favorite, favorite one is when you hold your arms over your chest it's a different kind of warmth. It brings a different type of momentary introversion and for that moment you're 6 years old again and safe under your blankee.
Some background would probably be necessary. This is something I wrote last semester:
In regard to torture, the USSR really had it's ducks in a row. While I haven't studied Soviet torture techniques specifically, the ancillary knowledge from related topics leads me to the belief. Under the second Bush administration, the United States in some ways had it's ducks even more precisely aligned, but in others just had no idea. US torture techniques were the result of quasi scientific analyses utilized by lawyers and sadistic military personnel working in tandem. Some of the stuff used was sincerely on point. And true to the torture techniques of all liberal democracies, no scars! Yet the US ultimately had no idea what it was doing because a) in the western world you can't get a conviction when there's torture involved b) we used the wrong kind of torture.
Case in point is a favorite Soviet tactic: sleep deprivation. It may sound silly, but former Israeli Prime Minister Menachim Begin (I believe it was) who was subjected to it offered up his opinion that the desire for sleep far and away is greater than that for food or water. Quite simply: after three days, you will do anything. Great tactic for extracting false confessions, terrible for extracting military intelligence as we tried to do. Not only did one detainee confess to masterminding almost all recent terrorist attacks, but also confessed to the sun revolving around the earth.
This is the level I'm on. Gitmo detainees would be given roughly four hours in breaks per 24 for months. I have had 1hr of sleep 27 hours ago and in the past 72 hours have had 4 in bits and pieces. Once every couple of weeks I used to get a solid nine hours. But it's been getting progressively getting worse. Tonight was supposed to be my good sleep night. It's not happening. I want to sleep so badly, but just can't. It dawned on me the other day, that by the definition of most, I'm subjecting myself to torture. At the moment I simply go about is if I were drunk. But jf this were being enforced by someone else my mind would be profoundly fucked.
That entry ended talking about an appointment to see a doctor about sleeping medication. I was wracked with the pain of lack of sleep, grasping for reasons why. Hopefully, I pleaded, they might be able to do something for me. Well, this is about six months later. Since then I went to a few appointments. And upon leaving the last of those doctors' offices I found myself with these lovely little white pills which appear to be crafted from only the waftiest of clouds,
The Ambien has saved me. I can sleep. I try to tough it out a few nights here and there, but end up up layng in bed for seven or eight hours, finding that I had been closing in a quasi-sleep like state during the last forty five minutes or so. Other nights though, I ease gently into dreamland and wake eight or nine hours later fresh as a daisy with feminine wash..
Of course, the reason I'm enamored with Ambien is more than just that. Some of the side effects are a change in the way you feel things. There's a certain quality to freshly washed cold bedsheets that there wasn't before. Walking up and cooking a midnight snack I can feel vastly more textures on the kitchen tile floor than I had previously. The sole of my foot sticks to the clean, cool tile ever, ever so slightly. The air seems freshly condensed, with a hint of cucumber. These are only a few, hopefully to give you an overall idea. But my favorite, favorite, favorite one is when you hold your arms over your chest it's a different kind of warmth. It brings a different type of momentary introversion and for that moment you're 6 years old again and safe under your blankee.
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