Poison

I had around three hours of sleep last night. My eyes were as heavy as the fins of a space shuttle by 3pm. I flicked my hair forward so that my colleagues either side of me could not see my eyes and I closed them for a moment. I'm pleased I face a window or I would have been caught having a quick shut-eye.

Having looked up the tablets prescribed by the sleep doc, I am now deeply worried. These things are hard core. They explain why a) I feel sick; b) I have lost weight; c) I have strange headaches; d) I am irritable (sometimes to the point of rage); e) feel anxious, and oh, I could go on and on. Suffice to say, this period of my life is not one I want to repeat.

Tough? This makes granite feel like silk.

The most worrying thing is that to come off these tablets can be an absolute hellish bastard. I have looked up the process and it isn't exactly a piece of cake. It's scary. But I no longer want to be on the tablets. It must sound stupid to take something and not fully research it but I had faith – finally – in the doctor, and got swept along because he is who he is.

Nearly four months on, I have some level of physical dependence. It would have happened after about eight weeks. My doctor has barely seen me in all that time. And now I am a fucking drug addict. Brilliant care, that.

I went to kung fu tonight, having made the decision that my life, going forward, must be as drug-free as possible (bar alcohol, on occasion). I obviously need to sort out the reason I don't sleep well but the way of the benzodiazepine is not the way for me.

Google "benzodiazepine" and "withdrawal" and you will see why I am not thrilled. I feel as though I have poisoned myself – or let someone poison me. I'd rather stick to natural endorphins, thanks very much Dr Sleep.