It’s never good when your mate greets you in the morning with “What happened to you last night? Do you remember how you got to bed?”
And so this is how I learned that it’s possible to black out while under the influence of Ambien. I’m here to tell you that if you’re going to black out? Find something more fun, for god’s sake. Now before you go flaming me for being chemically dependent, let me explain to you that I sleep with two people who snore. Loudly, and with feeling, all. Night. Long. Not only is it almost impossible for me to fall asleep with this cacophony in my face, but sometimes they wake me up, or BabyJ wakes up for his 5 minute diaper change or the cat wakes us up to be walked to the food bowl. And then I’m up for hours, cursed, roaming the house or the internet, buckling under a cloud of resentment every time I pass by the bedroom and catch a glimpse of those two snoring in harmony, oblivious to my suffering.
So I procured a (legal!) scrip for Ambien, and every few nights when I’ve found myself hitting the dangerous zone of putting milk in the pantry and cat food in the cereal bowl, I’ll pop one and hit the bed around 10. Last night was no different, except that for some reason I decided after I finished my book to come upstairs and hang out with my husband.
I’m fuzzy on the details, but evidently getting me to bed involved shaking, soft slaps on the cheeks, and being dragged down the stairs. Unlike some stories I’ve heard about Ambien blackouts, I didn’t binge eat, or dance on the table.
I’m not much of a blacker-outer, unfortunately for my memories of my mid twenties. I remember every stupid thing I did, every embarrassing moment, every dangerous trip home. Ack! New ones are coming back to me as I write this! Must. Stop. Blogging.