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The new year is a fitting opportunity to look back on the last twelve months. For the Journal team, this means reflecting on more than 600 published articles and podcasts, as well as at least three times as many conducted interviews. Each team member has selected the contribution that has marked them the most in 2023.
"Do you have anything important coming up in the next few days? Something you need to be on top of?" I think for a moment: "The job. So … no?" The doctor, to whom I was grateful for the quick appointment, slips me a prescription: "Take this, three drops in the evening, dissolved in water, for five days. No longer than that. Don't start taking it on your own initiative, yes?" I nod. My head has been aching for about a week, probably, as I've just been told, because I clench my teeth convulsively in my sleep. Presumed reason: acute stress. Well, that's fine.
A friendly pharmacist gives me the small box – fully reimbursed by the CNS – and a little reminder to only take the drops at night and only for five days. I nod again … and sleep like a child on the first night of summer vacation. My bed is nirvana. Wow. I've never had trouble sleeping, but the next two days feel like I've been doing something wrong for 30 years. The symptoms get better too. It's only when I've had my fourth dose of the blue peach-flavored drops – delicious – that I start to wonder which magic potion is giving me all the good nights. "Rivotril." Never heard of it. A quick google. Clonazepam is the active ingredient. It rings a bell somewhere. What does Wikipedia say? "Clonazepam is…" I sigh deeply: " … is a benzodiazepine."
I trust doctors. Even in this case, I do not presume to disregard their expertise. According to Dr. Wikipedia, the drug reduces muscle activity during REM sleep, for example, and is, incidentally, a strong anxiolytic – in other words, it reduces anxiety. Whether these are actually the reasons relevant to the prescription is beyond my amateur research, but it seems plausible.
Nevertheless, it upsets me to have been caught out so cold. The word "benzodiazepine" did not come up in any of the conversations. In two articles, I tried to outline the use and abuse of the psychologically and physically highly addictive "benzos". Around 6,000 people in Luxembourg are addicted to high doses – most of them older women. Many more are only "normal" addicts. In the long term, they become emotional zombies. I have spoken to daughters who no longer recognize their mothers because they have become different people as a result of the psychotropic medication. With doctors who were attacked by patients when they wanted to reduce their dose. With others who, despite the enormous side effects, could hardly reduce their patients' doses because the withdrawal symptoms could be fatal. It was about people who take monthly doses every day and others who secretly stockpile monthly supplies. Usually without anyone noticing.
"Around 6,000 people in Luxembourg are highly addicted [to benzodiazepines] – most of them older women. Many more are only 'normal' addicts."
Benzodiazepines do not "pop", on the contrary: they slow you down. The head is at rest. Silence. They do this by reducing all emotions. Their biggest problem is that they are a little too good. That makes them a terrifyingly efficient band-aid solution. In many cases their temporary use is perfectly legitimate, in many others more in-depth therapies would be necessary. But their effect invites us to see them as miracle cures. They definitely felt that way. The four times three drops I took are a fraction of the contents of the bottle. Calmness in drop form. I disposed of them the next day.
