I leaned forward interested the other night when Rosa was watching the A & E channel. The show Intervention was on and they were featuring a young man addicted to DMX, a common ingredient to cough medicine and cough and cold pills. He was taking up to thirty pills a day to get his fix.
"That's going to be me," I moaned to Rosa. "If I don't quit taking Benadryl."
Rosa raised an eyebrow and went back to reading her People magazine while watching. "You can't get addicted to allergy medicine," she said.
Today was the first time I realized I was addicted because I started to think up plots and lies to tell my mother to buy a pack of the one dollar pills. "Mom? Can I get a dollar to go to AA tonight?" was my favorite line and one that would have worked if I used it. Benadryl is $1.09 with tax for 24 pills over at Fred's dollar store.
"Dammit!" I cursed loudly as I stood up amidst my scheming. "You can get addicted to anything. You are fucking pitiful."
I wanted to break down in sobs at having found myself addicted to yet one more substance, although a Benadryl addiction is mild in all regards when compared to alcohol. An addiction it is, none-the-less.
The cure? Cold turkey just like quitting smoking and a renewed focus on 12-step meetings. I am going to miss those pills, though. Taking six was like taking a handful of valium. They were so comforting and calming.