25mg zolpidem

Bare minimum the prescriptions had to be real. It is VERY illegal to alter a prescription label of an existing pharmacy. You're allowed to make a fake label for a fake pharmacy, for educational purposes/television, but Pharmacy 90210 and obviously CVS are real pharmacies. At best, doctoring a label is a Class 1 misdemeanor, but since zolpidem (generic Ambien) is a controlled substance that shit actually becomes a low grade felony.
0% chance those scripts were fake
Update, it gets EVEN WORSE:
The ozempic dosing he has is 0.5mg, that ISNT THE STARTING DOSE. You start at 0.25mg and titrate up from there. Which means he filled that script at least 1 times prior.

Disclaimer: this is NO, and again, NO about attempting suicide. All the opposite. Im trying to figure it out how much of an antipsychotic can take to treat insomnia. Also, this is not intented for any kind of recreational experience.
The one Im taking is Levomepromazina (25mg x pill), and time ago used to combine it with Zolpidem (12,5mg x pill). This last months Ive been just taking just 1 pill of Levomepromazina, and sometimes works, but others not so much. I have the problem to wake up too late during the day, like at 2pm or 3ven 4pm, even if I take my pills at 10am. And others times I take pills at 9pm but I find sleep at 23.30pm or even later.
In conclusions this pills arent the magical formula to sleep. When I combined with Zolpidem it helpd a little, but like a 10%. Zolpidem is too soft for me, this was the fist druy my psychiatriet reccomend me, and only helped me to sleep a max of 3 hour. Goint to beed at 9pm and waking up at 2:30am.
Mi idea is to see if I take more dosis of Levomepromazina. One time I asked to my psychiatrist and said I could do it
Anyone has experience with this same type of drug or info related to this.
I know I shoud go and ask it to him, but a series of too long to explain now I cant.
Simple words: I dont want an overdose of this.

Ever since I was prescribed Duloxetine, my life has followed an unfortunate set of circumstances. The awful reaction I had to this medication is still causing me insomnia today, and it's been 2 months of living in this nightmare. This is the story of how Duloxetine ruined my life.
Before I start, I need to emphasize that this story is not intended to encourage anyone to avoid Duloxetine; my goal is to forewarn individuals who are considering trying this antidepressant drug to consult their Doctor first and discuss their biological risk of developing the horrific side effects this medication has evoked in me.
Something I've noticed is that I am someone who cannot tolerate any reuptake inhibitor drug, so I should have known better than to start a new one. Previously, I was taking Wellbutrin and Venlafaxine simultaneously. I then tapered off with Prozac, which resulted in serotonin syndrome. I quit Methylphenidate because it makes me excited and angsty, and I am a recovering crack cocaine addict, which, for those of you who don't know this, cocaine works as a serotonin-norepinephrine-dopamine-reuptake inhibitor, or for short form SNDRI.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Serotonin–norepinephrine–dopamine_reuptake_inhibitor#Addiction
Sound familiar? It should be because all of the drugs mentioned work via reuptake inhibition, similar to cocaine. The reason I bring up this is because everyone I've smoked crack with can tolerate it better, and the duration of their high would last exponentially longer than me. Meanwhile, I crash really hard, sometimes really quickly. So thus, my theory is that regardless of whether it's pharmaceuticals or street drugs, I cannot personally tolerate any reuptake inhibitors. So, if you can relate to this yourself, use precaution when considering a new antidepressant, ask your Doctor about the mechanisms of action and educate yourself on the drugs that you are going to put in your body.
And now….. On to the Story.
To preface this story, I am a 21-year-old Male; I live in a country where hospital visits are free, and medications are insured by the government for those under 25 years of age. I have been battling crack addiction for 5 years now. I quit 10 months ago, and since then, I've had about 5 slip-ups. I've been an addict since I was 14, and I have literally been to rehab 6 times. I'm currently on a waiting list to get into rehab, and it has almost been a year since my relapse, and I'm still figuring this shit out.
This story began in February of 2024. At this time, I had been on 30mg of Duloxetine for a month, with no effects nor side effects, so my dose was increased to 60mg just 5 days before my admission date into rehab.
I've been adjusting and changing meds since I was 17 for my mental health, and on this particular day, when my dad dropped me off at the rehab, he noticed I was more stable than he's seen me for as long as he can remember. "Boy, was he wrong"!
After settling in my room, I was ready to participate in the program. I found some friends, and we all sat at a table together in the cafeteria. When lunch was served, I noticed that my appetite had vanished entirely, and I was repulsed by the thought of eating at all, but I didn't give it much thought.
When I was in line for nighttime meds, I was very confident that my good old reliable Zolpidem 10mg would warmly nussle me to sleep like a lullaby, as it always did. I practiced good sleep hygiene before bed, including showering, avoiding screens for 2 hours, making the bed, and taking my meds immediately before bed. After 15 minutes, I felt the Zolpidem's comforting effects; however, I was still awake an hour after taking it, which was unusual. At first, I thought, "Maybe I'm just getting acclimated to the program," but soon enough, the Zolpidem wore off, and I was wide awake. So I hunkered down and had no option but to lay in bed the whole night.
I wasn't that bent out of shape or pissed off the next day because 24 hours without sleep isn't a lot of time to be awake for me, and I've probably done it 100 times already. Furthermore, at this time, I was prescribed a brand of 50mg Methylphenidate called Foquest, which has triple layer beads, designed to release 3 times throughout the day for a longer lasting extended release effect than double layer beaded XR medications like Adderall or Dexedrine.
I was thrilled when the sun came up, reasonably so because I had been basically confined to that room all night. Once the wake-up call went off, I was free to go elsewhere, like the TV room, to lay down on the couches or sit in the cafeteria to socialize with the early birds, and nobody appeared to notice I hadn't slept at all.
My concern was amplified when I was still repulsed by my breakfast, but I went on about my day, attended all of the daily programming, and soon enough, it was nighttime again. "Surely, I'll be able to sleep this time," I said. Anyone would pass out from exhaustion if they were sober the whole time like me."
Nighttime meds came again, and now I was less confident in the Zolpidem to do its duty. However, I was prescribed 10mg diazepam and 300mg pregabalin at bedtime on top of the Zolpidem. So, at this point, I was relying on the back-burner meds. Sure enough, the meds wore off after an hour, and eventually, I called it quits again, but I knew I had to preserve my energy, so I stayed in bed tossing and turning, just trying to sleep, but to no avail. On this night, I thought to myself, "Maybe I'm just going through weed withdrawal," although I hadn't noticed any cravings or anything up to this point, so it never occurred to me prior.
As the clock struck 6 am, 48 hours had gone by without any sleep. When I woke up, I was at home. Now I'm two hours away in the middle of nowhere. Being this far from home, and even how far I was from the nearest hospital, I grew weary. I knew that I wouldn't be able to access the psychiatric care I clearly needed.
Things weren't looking good this morning. I started becoming unwell, with anxiety, and my freeze would keep kicking in. I had no idea what was going on and why the fuck I couldn't eat or sleep at all.
This all pissed me off because I had fought a long battle of suffering and trying to pull my shit together for 8 months so that I could get into rehab again, and of course, it backfired on me.
To fill you in on those eight months between June and February, I was put on long-term disability with the condition that I go to rehab to maintain my job, which I already had plans on doing anyway. I found a rehab with lots of praise across my country, but the waiting list was 3 months long. So I was stuck at home on the rural back roads and spent all my time living a very sedentary lifestyle until I got offered a bed. When I got there, however, I quickly felt like I was in a labour camp rather than a drug rehab.
I hated every day of the 8 weeks I spent there because of the sheer overexertion and exhaustion due to the intensity of the rehab. We worked from 6am until 9 or 10:30pm every single day, with very little free time. Half of the clients at the place were on parole conditions, and the other half were what we called "health beds." I wasn't on parole, nor have I ever served jail time, and when I asked the parolees, every single one of them told me the exact same thing. They all said, "This program is far harder than jail," and "I wanna go back to prison." Keep in mind some of these guys came from medium security and witnessed horrible things, which I won't elaborate on.
After those 8 weeks, I had enough. I was withdrawing off Diazepam because the psychiatrist at that rehab tapered me down way too fast. I was also suffering from akathisia when I had to start an antipsychotic because I had an episode of paranoid psychosis due to the exhaustion combined with the entire dynamic of the program. They were making me wait forever to get the meds I needed for the akathesia, and they let me continue to withdraw even though I visited the hospital and they faxed them a prescription for benztropine and re-prescribed Diazepam. I had enough of their bullshit, and so I left.
My parents were furious that I quit, but I was determined to find a better rehab, one that didn't practice slavery and intentional sleep deprivation as their entire philosophy, and 3 months later, I ended up in the rehab where this story began.
I was incredibly frustrated after being awake for 48 hours straight. It felt like the last 8 months had flashed before my eyes. I saw all the misery, hopelessness, grief and loss that my addiction had caused over the years. Despite all the effort I had put into overcoming it, everything seemed to be coming together, and my dad had commented on how stable I seemed; suddenly, I found myself in crisis.
On morning two, I wasn't fucking around. No Foquest, no relaxing with my eyes closed, and I powered through the day. It wasn't enough, though, because all night, I still hadn't gotten even a little half sleep in; I was fully conscious the whole time.
At this point, I proposed I go to the emergency room so I could speak to a psychiatrist fast, which is something I've had to do several times, but I was met with discouragement by my counsellor. He kept saying, "This is just a part of recovery." Then I refuted him by saying, "I haven't been smoking crack for 8 months. This isn't detox! This is my medication causing a crisis". I had enough of how oblivious he was, so I walked away from that conversation because he made me feel guilty for even asking such a thing, even though it was the best option, and I should've followed my gut instinct.
My mind was so slow because of the time disorientation, and I became very compulsive. I was extremely uncomfortable living in my own skin, and my body would go into its freeze instinct. For example, I got into my room and had snowy boots, and I didn't want to track snow into my room, so I just froze and stood there staring into space, lost in my thoughts. It took me 30 minutes to remove my boots and rigidly tip-toe into bed.
One of the rules of the rehab I was at was that you cannot refuse meds, but suddenly, In the blink of an eye, I remembered my Doctor's words when he increased the Duloxetine from 30 to 60. He said, "I'm gonna give you two 30mg capsules, but if anything bad happens, return to one capsule."
At that moment, I was in line to get my meds, and I realized that I had factored out everything. It was very unusual for me to have appetite suppression to this extreme, and if the weed withdrawal was the sole problem, I would've gotten poor sleep or not enough. It'd be very unlikely to have resulted in complete insomnia for three days straight, maybe one, but I'd end up crashing the next night. I did factor in the new environment, but only for the first night. Another indication that I had was I had an uncontrollable urge to crack my neck constantly, which Is a side effect I've had from other antidepressants and indicates the dose is too high or something adverse is happening.
I told the nurse I was choosing to lower my dose without their permission, and she vaguely warned me, saying, "Well, part of being in this program is taking your meds." I just shrugged it off, not understanding what she was eluding, but I wasn't gonna go through this torture any longer. This was on a Friday, so all the weekday staff in charge of the rehab left, and the weekend staff were there until Tuesday because it was a long weekend.
On the fourth night, I anticipated a repeat of the same routine, and despite my efforts, I couldn't fall asleep; instead, I felt as if I were hypomanic because I felt mental energy that kept my mind alert, but the fatigue was getting to me, and I ended up falling asleep at like 5 am only to be loudly awoken by the P-A speaker in my room gave us a wake-up call at 6 am. And when I woke from this, I was sure as hell pissed off because I felt so much worse than before, but the good thing was it was the weekend which meant free time all day. After the fucking megaphone in my room awoke me into shock, I stumbled out of bed, staggering, not so far as tripping over my feet yet, but needless to say, things were getting terrible given that in 4 days, I had slept 1 out of the other 95 hours. This morning at breakfast, I confirmed my theory that Duloxetine was causing these side effects because I began eating more and slowly regained my appetite.
So, on day 4, I was losing myself after that 1-hour nap that destroyed me. But the straw that broke the camel's back was a song I heard coming from the next room over, and I had the worst panic attack of my life because it was a song that my evil ex-girlfriend involved in my last relapse, would play while we smoked crack together so, of course, it caused flashbacks.
At this point, I had no composure left; I ran down the hall, went outside and started hitting my head off a brick wall until it bled. I was stopped in the act, and the staff had to call the ambulance.
I knew I was the most isolated hospital I'd ever been to when I arrived, and they told me they literally had no psychiatrists. Eventually, after waiting for a doctor, I had to explain everything all over again because the ambulance driver didn't hand off any of the info I had given them in the ambulance, and I almost didn't get any help. The nurse walked in and said, "How can I help you?" I was in shock and didn't realize yet that she didn't know anything about me, but even after I explained that I'd been awake for 4 days straight because of a medication, she just looked at me and said, "Well, you seem fine to me" This made me really angry at the world. She just thought I was high since she knew I had addiction issues, but after talking with her and the Doctor, I said, "It seems as if you guys think I'm just high." They both just looked at each other, and from then on, I could tell they believed me. We talked, and I suggested we add 25mg of Seroquel, so the Doctor sent me back to the rehab with a week's worth in a bottle.
After I got back to the rehab, it was time for bed again, and thankfully, I got some sleep that night. However, the sleep wasn't restful enough, so I was still loopy and anxious. However, I continuously regained my appetite, which made me feel better.
The following 2 nights, I managed to sleep through, and my eating habits were much more natural than before. I was starting to think my sleep was returning to normal. I began feeling like everything would be okay, but when I got up Tuesday morning after 7 days of torture, I thought I had suffered enough. I was wrong because the staff in charge returned, and they concluded that I needed to be medically discharged from the rehab, and I had 15 minutes to gather my shit and leave.
I was under the impression I could reapply when I got home. When I called, the intake coordinator said I had to wait three months before reapplying.
After hearing this, I felt hopeless, so I started digging. I discovered that I could call the clinical director of the rehab and make a formal complaint. So I called her up, and after I explained how much I wanted to return, she decided that all I would need to reapply would be a note from my Doctor explaining that I am medically stable on my meds. I was thrilled to hear this, and furthermore, I didn't have any problems sleeping anymore, so I was confident that I'd get the letter I needed to return.
When I called my Doctor, I didn't need Seroquel anymore because my sleep had returned to normal. I was having a lot of agitation and discomfort, so my Doctor switched me from Diazepam to clonazepam to give me the best opportunity for success upon returning to rehab.
I don't remember the following 9 days after, But on March 2nd, it hit me again and I could no longer sleep without medication, nor could I eat anything without forcing myself. In a sleep-deprived state the next day, I made the poor decision to go into my parent's closet, where they hid my medication and stole fifteen 10mg Diazepams, so that night, I took 90mg just so I could sleep.
The next night rolled around, and I took 60mg and couldn't sleep at all. My grandfather lives next door and has always been helpful to me when I have insomnia. He sometimes would give me 15mg of oxazepam. So I went home and took it, and just sat there and still couldn't sleep. In a drunken state from all the benzos, I lost my inhibitions, had enough of the insomnia, and was ready to die for the first time in my life.
I decided I was ready and attempted to gulp back all my pills, knowing I would end up in a coma or dead. I found over 2 months' worth of pregabalin; I take 600 per day, so there were approximately 35 grams. There were also about 150mg of Diazepam that hadn't been returned to the pharmacy, a month's worth of clonazepam, so about 45mg, I had probably 500mg of Methylphenidate and maybe 100mg of Zolpidem and some other stuff I can't remember.
I had to get past my mom first because she was in the way of the closet, so I walked by casually, grabbed the bag and tried to get past her. She gripped the bag, and I didn't want to be aggressive with my mom, so I let go. She was traumatized by my behaviour and quickly dialled 911. I was so remorseful for what I did to my mom, so I jumped over the railing down a flight of stairs but landed on my 1 foot and just fell up the stairs, and was barely injured.
When I got to the hospital, they ended up giving me 50mg of Seroquel, and somehow, I managed to fall asleep. When I woke up, they contacted my parents, and they didn't want me to come home and needed a break, so I went directly to a crisis centre from the hospital.
The centre I was in was for people at risk of homelessness or just for crisis support. It's a nice house with a beautiful kitchen. I could even bring my nicotine vape with me. They also had lock boxes for people to store their drugs in; the only rule was you had to leave the property to get high, and you could come back tweaking balls if you wanted to. When I arrived, I was so drugged up from all the benzos that I stumbled around everywhere and had to use the elevator.
The first night was pretty easy, even though I didn't sleep because I could vape outside whenever I wanted, and other people were awake all night that I could talk to. This made it much easier to remain calm since I wasn't confined to my room this time. My Doctor was away for the week, so out of the kindness and love in my dad's heart, he took me to a walk-in clinic to get some trazodone. The clinic doctor only gave me 25mg, which was not nearly enough because, by this point, my sleep threshold was substantially higher. That night, I combined it with 2.5mg of Clonazepam and Zolpidem, but it was useless, and I stayed awake.
On Night three at the centre, I managed to get 3 hours of broken-up sleep from 6am to 9am. I was sleeping so lightly that I had a hypnagogic hallucination, which is a type of hallucination where you're on the cusp of waking up. It felt like I was on DMT for a couple seconds, and then I woke up.
I had enough; I was skeptical but decided to stop taking the Cymbalta because I was living on protein shakes and could barely eat a small yogurt; I was sitting at the table crying because I just wanted to eat.
The environment I was in was very triggering for me, especially since I was a 20 minute walk away from my dealer, and I could return back to the centre when I was done. So this is where the stupidity began, and I gave in even after three days of barely sleeping. And went to grab a 70-piece of crack.
Even though the cops don't care about drug users in my city, and people can be spotted smoking drugs all over the place, I still felt paranoid about where I was smoking up. Whenever I don't have a place to use safely, I walk around downtown looking for alleyways or trying to find tents in the park where the homeless live. This time, I wanted to be more stealthy, so I climbed up this mountain in my city with a stairway about 100 or so steps tall. As I walked up the stairs, my legs were trembling, and I could barely descend the steps without collapsing.
When I got back to the centre safely, I was tweaking and could barely compose myself enough to communicate, and my fine motor function was fucked that I needed help opening the pills I took to calm down.
Needless to say, because of my stupidity, I didn't deserve to sleep that night, but it's just unfortunate the hospital would refer me to such a triggering environment right after I left rehab early.
This facility is not allowed to stop people from taking extra meds; you could overdose if you wanted to, and there's nothing they can do other than call an ambulance. Luckily for me, my dad only left me with the amount of medication I needed. That night, 75mg of Trazodone must have provided me with some sleep, I honestly can't remember, but after 2 days off the Duloxetine, I regained my ability to eat again, and I was eating like a champ. I had lost about 10lbs, and I gained it back quickly.
The last night I was there, I didn't get any sleep again, but luckily, someone was awake to keep me company. He had some good weed, and the staff let us roll up in the front room. Then we could walk across the road and smoke up on the sidewalk, and we did that all night until I was ready to go and my parents allowed me to come back home. I ended up crashing at 4pm off 50mg of Trazodone for 5 hours, and when I woke up, I took 100mg of Seroquel and crashed again and woke up 13 hours later.
The sleepless nights were getting to be too much, and I was having suicidal Ideation, so I bit the bullet and decided to drive an hour away to the best mental health hospital in all of my country. My dad and I were worried that I wouldn't get admitted, but they did because of my suicidality.
The Doctor gave me 200mg of Trazodone for my first night, and I just became a complete zombie and laid there in bed for 3 hours, but then I got up, and I could barely even muster up a word and looked like I was slumped, told a staff member I was trying to look for ways to kill myself so they gave me Ativan to fall asleep. I didn't want to take it because my benzo tolerance had already skyrocketed, but I succumbed, and it actually worked.
Every weekday, the clients all got to speak to a psychiatrist, and when we were talking, even the psychiatrist agreed that what was going on was perplexing, so we just kept throwing sleeping meds at me to see what worked.
One night, I was feeling so suicidal that I left my room and started hitting my head on the concrete, and the hospital had to announce a code white, which is the code used for patients deemed "dangerous." The only person I was a danger to was myself. I kept punching myself in the head, and they called the intensive care unit to bring a restraint bed and told me If I didn't take Ativan and Loxapine, they were gonna strap me down and give it to me intravenously.
I took the pills, so the restraint bed was brought back over to the intensive care unit, but a staff member had to be in my room that night until I woke up. On Friday, the psychiatrist and I finalized my medication regimen, and he suggested that Monday would be a good day to leave. I was so eager to go on Monday that I didn't tell him I barely slept that night.
I'm thankful I went, though; I wouldn't dare go to the psych ward in my own city because I've been locked in a foam room with a mattress on the ground, no pillow, a camera facing the toilet, and nobody came to talk to me for 5 days people screaming all night in the hallway. I hated those pigs, so every time I had to piss, I did it on the floor beside the toilet so the camera couldn't watch me, and I threw all my food waste on the floor. I stuffed my blanket in the toilet bowl when I was about to leave. They deserved it, and I'm very proud I did so.
I travelled to the mental health hospital I went to because it's much more humane. Everyone gets their own room and bathroom with a shower. They have programs to go to throughout the week and a big common room with a TV and tables and chairs where I spent most of my time colouring with the friends I acquired.
It's been about 3 weeks since I was discharged from the hospital, and I have had problems sleeping every night since. I've constantly bothered my Doctor with emails and calls to the office to change meds, but I'm finally at the point now where I'm on the waiting list to get back into the rehab I was discharged from, and I slept the whole night last night which I haven't done since the very beginning of this story.
I thought this story would end on a sad note, but things are looking up for me. If I continue to sleep every night, I'll be all set to go as soon as they call me.
In the end, to sleep, I'm taking 200mg of Seroquel, which is insane to me because, before the start of the story, I was taking 8x less than what helped me before this story began. I'm also now taking mirtazapine and Davigo for sleep, and I didn't need any of these meds before this all started. This is further proof to me that Duloxetine caused all this stuff to happen in my life, and here I am 2 months later, still recovering.
EDIT**** I included a citation to prove the mechanism of action of cocaine in relation to antidepressants

Ever since I was prescribed Duloxetine, my life has followed an unfortunate set of circumstances. The awful reaction I had to this medication is still causing me problems today, and it's been 2 months of living in this nightmare. This is the story of how Duloxetine ruined my life.
Before I start, I need to emphasize that this story is not intended to discourage anyone from avoiding Duloxetine; my goal is to forewarn individuals who are considering trying this antidepressant drug to consult their doctor first and discuss their biological risk of developing the horrific side effects this medication has evoked in me.
However, I can say that I am someone who cannot tolerate any reuptake inhibitor drug, so I should have known better than to start a new one. Previously, I've been on Wellbutrin+Venlafaxine at the same time, I took Prozac and got serotonin syndrome, I quit Methylphenidate because it makes me excited and angsty, and I am a recovering crack cocaine addict, which, for those of you who don't know this, cocaine works as a serotonin-norepinephrine-dopamine-reuptake inhibitor; or for short form SNDRI.
Sound familiar? It should be because all of the drugs mentioned work via reuptake inhibition, similar to cocaine. The reason I mention this is because everyone I've smoked crack with can tolerate it better, and the duration of their high would last exponentially longer than me. Meanwhile, I crash really hard, sometimes really quickly. So thus, my theory is that whether it's pharmaceuticals or street drugs, I cannot personally tolerate any reuptake inhibitors. So, if you can relate to this yourself, use precaution when considering a new antidepressant, ask your doctor about the mechanisms of action and educate yourself on the drugs that you are going to put in your body.
And now….. On to the Story.
To preface this story, I am a 21 year old Male, and I have been battling crack addiction for 5 years now. I quit 10 months ago, and since then, I've had about 5 slip-ups. I've been an addict since I was 14, and I have literally been to rehab 6 times. I'm currently on a waiting list to get into rehab, and it has almost been a year since my relapse, and I'm still figuring this shit out.
This story began in February of 2024. At this time, I had been on 30mg of Duloxetine for a month, with no effects nor side effects, so my dose was increased to 60mg just 5 days before my admission date into rehab.
I've been adjusting and changing meds since I was 17 for my mental health, and on this particular day, when my dad dropped me off at the rehab, he noticed I was more stable than he's seen me for as long as he can remember. "Boy, was he wrong"!
After settling in my room, I was ready to participate in the program. I found some friends, and we all sat at a table together in the cafeteria. I noticed when lunch was served that my appetite had vanished entirely, and I was repulsed by the thought of eating at all, but I didn't give it much thought
When I was in line for nighttime meds, I was very confident that my good old reliable zolpidem 10mg would warmly nussle me to sleep like a lullaby, as it always did. I then practiced my sleep hygiene before bed, such as showering, avoiding screens for 2 hours before bed, making my bed, and going to bed immediately after taking my meds. Only 15 minutes later, it kicked in, and I felt the comfort it usually provided me. Then, an hour rolled by, and I was still awake, which concerned me because I usually fall asleep an hour after taking zolpidem. At first, I thought, "Maybe I'm just getting acclimated to the program," but soon enough, the zolpidem wore off, and I was wide awake. So I hunkered down and had to lay down in bed the whole night.
I wasn't that bent out of shape or pissed off the next day because 24 hours without sleep isn't a lot of time to be awake for me, and I've probably done it 100 times already. Furthermore, at this time, I was prescribed a brand of 50mg methylphenidate called Foquest, which has triple layer beads, designed to release 3 times throughout the day for a longer lasting extended release effect than double layer beaded XR medications like Adderall or Dexedrine.
I was thrilled when the sun came up, reasonably so because I had been basically confined to that room all night. Once the wake-up call went off, I was free to go elsewhere, like the TV room, to lay down on the couches or sit in the cafeteria to socialize with the early birds, and nobody appeared to notice I hadn't slept at all.
My concern was amplified when I was still repulsed by my breakfast, but I went on about my day, attended all of the daily programming, and soon enough, it was nighttime again. "Surely, I'll be able to sleep this time," I said. Anyone would pass out from exhaustion if they were sober the whole time like me."
Nighttime meds came again, and now I was less confident in the zolpidem to do its duty. However, I was prescribed 10mg diazepam and 300mg pregabalin at bedtime on top of the zolpidem. So, at this point, I was relying on the back-burner meds. Sure enough, the meds wore off after an hour, and eventually, I called it quits again, but I knew I had to preserve my energy, so I stayed in bed tossing and turning, just trying to sleep, but to no avail. On this night, I thought to myself, "Maybe I'm just going through weed withdrawal," although I hadn't noticed any cravings or anything up to this point, so it never occurred to me prior.
As the clock struck 6 am, 48 hours had gone by without any sleep since I woke up in my bed at home before driving 2 hours away in the middle of nowhere, where the rehab is located. Being this far from home, and even how far I was from the nearest hospital, I grew weary. I knew that I wouldn't be able to access the psychiatric care I clearly needed.
Things weren't looking good this morning when I started becoming unwell, with anxiety, and my freeze instinct kept kicking in. I had no idea what was going on and why the fuck I couldn't eat or sleep at all.
This all pissed me off because I had fought a long battle of suffering and trying to pull my shit together for 8 months so that I could get into rehab again, and of course, it backfired on me.
To fill you in on those eight months between June and February, I was put on long-term disability, so I was stuck at home on the rural back roads, and I spent all my time living a very sedentary lifestyle. The condition of the long-term disability was that I go to rehab to maintain my job. In those 8 months, I did end up finding a rehab with lots of praise across my country, only to get there and realize I was in a labour camp rather than a drug rehab.
I hated every day of the 8 weeks I spent there because of the sheer overexertion and exhaustion due to the intensity of the rehab. Half of the clients at the place were there on parole conditions, and the other half were what we called "health beds." I wasn't on parole, nor have I ever served jail time, and when I asked the parolees, every single one of them told me the exact same thing. They all said, "This program is far harder than jail," and "I wanna go back to prison." Keep in mind some of these guys came from medium security and witnessed horrible things, which I won't elaborate on.
After those 8 weeks, I had enough. I was withdrawing off diazepam because the psychiatrist at that rehab tapered me down way too fast. I was also suffering akathisia from the antipsychotic I had to start taking 2 weeks into my stay because I had an episode of paranoid psychosis due to the exhaustion combined with the entire dynamic of the program. They were making me wait forever to get the meds I needed for the akathesia, even though the hospital faxed them a prescription for benztropine. I had enough of their bullshit, and so I left.
My parents were furious that I quit, but I was determined to find a better rehab, one that didn't practice slavery and intentional sleep deprivation as their entire philosophy, and 3 months later, I found the rehab where this story began.
So you can imagine how frustrated I was on hour 48 without sleep because the last 8 months flashed before my eyes. I saw all the misery and hopelessness, the grief and loss of all the years that were torn into shambles from my addiction, and after all the hard work and dedication, suffering and despair, just as everything seemed to be coming together and just after my dad said he had not seen me this stable for as long as he can remember, all the sudden I'm in a crisis.
On morning two, I wasn't fucking around. No Foquest, no relaxing with my eyes closed, and I powered through the day. Soon enough, it was hour 72, and I still hadn't gotten even a little half sleep in; I was fully conscious the whole time.
At this point, I proposed I go to the emergency room so I could speak to a psychiatrist fast, which is something I've had to do several times, but I was met with discouragement by my counsellor. He kept saying, "This is just a part of recovery." Then I refuted him by saying, "I haven't been smoking crack for 8 months. This isn't detox! This is my medication causing a crisis". I had enough of how oblivious he was, so I walked away from that conversation because he made me feel guilty for even asking such a thing, even though it was the best option that I should’ve done
My mind was so slow because of the time disorientation, and I became very compulsive. Sometimes, I would go into my room, and I was so uncomfortable living in my own skin. At times such as this, my body would go into its freeze instinct, and I was so uncomfortable. One time, I got into my room, and my shoes were all snowy, and I just froze and stood there staring into space, lost in my thoughts. It took me 30 minutes to take off my boots and tip-toe into bed.
One of the rules of the rehab I was at was that you cannot refuse meds, but suddenly, In the blink of an eye, I remembered my doctor's words when he increased the Duloxetine from 30 to 60. He said, "I'm gonna give you two 30mg capsules, but if anything bad happens, go back down to one capsule."
At that moment, I was in line to get my meds, and I realized that I had factored out everything. It had to be Duloxetine that caused these problems. I told the nurse I was choosing to lower my dose without their permission, and she vaguely warned me, saying, "Well, part of being in this program is taking your meds." I just shrugged it off, not understanding what she was eluding, but I wasn't gonna go through this torture any longer. This was on a Friday, so all the weekday staff in charge of the rehab left, and the weekend staff were there until Tuesday because it was a long weekend.
It was night four, and I could only expect the same shit over again, and sure enough, no matter how hard I tried, I didn't feel tired instead, I felt as if I were hypomanic because I felt mental energy that kept my mind awake but the fatigue was getting to me and I ended up falling asleep at like 5 am only to be loudly awoken by the P-A speaker in my room gave us a wake-up call at 6 am. And when I woke from this, I was sure as hell pissed off because I felt so much worse than before, but the good thing was it was the weekend which meant free time all day.
After the fucking megaphone in my room awoke me into shock, I stumbled out of bed, staggering, not so far as tripping over my feet yet, but needless to say, things were getting terrible given that in 4 days, I had slept 1 out of the other 95 hours. This morning at breakfast, I confirmed my theory that Duloxetine was causing these side effects because I began eating more and slowly regained my appetite.
So, on day 4, I was losing myself after that 1-hour nap that destroyed me. But the straw that broke the camel's back was a song I heard coming from the next room over, from my room, and I had the worst panic attack of my life because it was a song that my evil ex-girlfriend involved in my last relapse, would play while we smoked crack together so, of course, it caused flashbacks.
At this point, I had no composure left; I ran down the hall, went outside and started hitting my head off a brick wall until it bled. I was stopped in the act, and the staff had to call the ambulance.
I knew I was the most isolated hospital I'd ever been to when I arrived, and they told me they literally had no psychiatrists. Eventually, after waiting for a doctor, I had to explain everything all over again because the ambulance driver didn't hand off any of the info I had given them in the ambulance, and I almost didn't get any help. The nurse walked in and said, "How can I help you?" I was in shock and didn't realize yet that they didn't know anything about me, but even after I explained that I'd been awake for 4 days straight because of a medication, she just looked at me and said, "Well, you seem fine to me" This made me really angry at the world. They just thought I was on drugs, and eventually, after talking with her and the doctor, I said, "It seems as if you guys think I'm just high." They both just looked at each other, and from then on, I could tell they believed me. We talked, and I suggested we add 25mg of quetiapine, so the doctor sent me back to the rehab with a week’s worth in a bottle.
After I got back to the rehab, it was time for bed again, and thankfully, I got some sleep that night. However, the sleep wasn't restful enough, so I was still pretty loopy and anxious, but I continuously began eating more and more.
The following 2 nights, I managed to sleep through, and my eating habits were much more natural than before. I was starting to think my sleep was returning to normal and that everything would be okay, but when I got up Tuesday morning after 7 days of torture, I thought I had suffered enough. Unfortunately, since the staff who were in charge returned, they concluded that I needed to be medically discharged from the rehab, and I had 15 minutes to gather my shit and leave.

​
(This story is not done. Its still happening today)
Ever since I was prescribed Duloxetine, my life has followed an unfortunate set of circumstances. The awful reaction I had to this medication is still causing me problems today, and it's been 2 months of living in this nightmare. This is the story of how Duloxetine ruined my life.
Before I start, I need to emphasize that this story is not intended to discourage anyone from avoiding Duloxetine; my goal is to forewarn individuals who are considering trying this antidepressant drug to consult their doctor first and discuss their biological risk of developing the horrific side effects this medication has evoked in me.
However, I can say that I am someone who cannot tolerate any reuptake inhibitor drug, so I should have known better than to start a new one. Previously, I've been on Wellbutrin+Venlafaxine at the same time, I took Prozac and got serotonin syndrome, I quit Methylphenidate because it makes me excited and angsty, and I am a recovering crack cocaine addict, which, for those of you who don't know this, cocaine works as a serotonin-norepinephrine-dopamine-reuptake inhibitor; or for short form SNDRI.
Sound familiar? It should be because all of the drugs mentioned work via reuptake inhibition, similar to cocaine. The reason I mention this is because everyone I've smoked crack with can tolerate it better, and the duration of their high would last exponentially longer than me. Meanwhile, I crash really hard, sometimes really quickly. So thus, my theory is that whether it's pharmaceuticals or street drugs, I cannot personally tolerate any reuptake inhibitors. So, if you can relate to this yourself, use precaution when considering a new antidepressant, ask your doctor about the mechanisms of action and educate yourself on the drugs that you are going to put in your body.
And now….. On to the Story.
To preface this story, I am a 21 year old Male, and I have been battling crack addiction for 5 years now. I quit 10 months ago, and since then, I've had about 5 slip-ups. I've been an addict since I was 14, and I have literally been to rehab 6 times. I'm currently on a waiting list to get into rehab, and it has almost been a year since my relapse, and I'm still figuring this shit out.
This story began in February of 2024. At this time, I had been on 30mg of Duloxetine for a month, with no effects nor side effects, so my dose was increased to 60mg just 5 days before my admission date into rehab.
I've been adjusting and changing meds since I was 17 for my mental health, and on this particular day, when my dad dropped me off at the rehab, he noticed I was more stable than he's seen me for as long as he can remember. "Boy, was he wrong"!
After settling in my room, I was ready to participate in the program. I found some friends, and we all sat at a table together in the cafeteria. I noticed when lunch was served that my appetite had vanished entirely, and I was repulsed by the thought of eating at all, but I didn't give it much thought
When I was in line for nighttime meds, I was very confident that my good old reliable zolpidem 10mg would warmly nussle me to sleep like a lullaby, as it always did. I then practiced my sleep hygiene before bed, such as showering, avoiding screens for 2 hours before bed, making my bed, and going to bed immediately after taking my meds. Only 15 minutes later, it kicked in, and I felt the comfort it usually provided me. Then, an hour rolled by, and I was still awake, which concerned me because I usually fall asleep an hour after taking zolpidem. At first, I thought, "Maybe I'm just getting acclimated to the program," but soon enough, the zolpidem wore off, and I was wide awake. So I hunkered down and had to lay down in bed the whole night.
I wasn't that bent out of shape or pissed off the next day because 24 hours without sleep isn't a lot of time to be awake for me, and I've probably done it 100 times already. Furthermore, at this time, I was prescribed a brand of 50mg methylphenidate called Foquest, which has triple layer beads, designed to release 3 times throughout the day for a longer lasting extended release effect than double layer beaded XR medications like Adderall or Dexedrine.
I was thrilled when the sun came up, reasonably so because I had been basically confined to that room all night. Once the wake-up call went off, I was free to go elsewhere, like the TV room, to lay down on the couches or sit in the cafeteria to socialize with the early birds, and nobody appeared to notice I hadn't slept at all.
My concern was amplified when I was still repulsed by my breakfast, but I went on about my day, attended all of the daily programming, and soon enough, it was nighttime again. "Surely, I'll be able to sleep this time," I said. Anyone would pass out from exhaustion if they were sober the whole time like me."
Nighttime meds came again, and now I was less confident in the zolpidem to do its duty. However, I was prescribed 10mg diazepam and 300mg pregabalin at bedtime on top of the zolpidem. So, at this point, I was relying on the back-burner meds. Sure enough, the meds wore off after an hour, and eventually, I called it quits again, but I knew I had to preserve my energy, so I stayed in bed tossing and turning, just trying to sleep, but to no avail. On this night, I thought to myself, "Maybe I'm just going through weed withdrawal," although I hadn't noticed any cravings or anything up to this point, so it never occurred to me prior.
As the clock struck 6 am, 48 hours had gone by without any sleep since I woke up in my bed at home before driving 2 hours away in the middle of nowhere, where the rehab is located. Being this far from home, and even how far I was from the nearest hospital, I grew weary. I knew that I wouldn't be able to access the psychiatric care I clearly needed.
Things weren't looking good this morning when I started becoming unwell, with anxiety, and my freeze instinct kept kicking in. I had no idea what was going on and why the fuck I couldn't eat or sleep at all.
This all pissed me off because I had fought a long battle of suffering and trying to pull my shit together for 8 months so that I could get into rehab again, and of course, it backfired on me.
To fill you in on those eight months between June and February, I was put on long-term disability, so I was stuck at home on the rural back roads, and I spent all my time living a very sedentary lifestyle. The condition of the long-term disability was that I go to rehab to maintain my job. In those 8 months, I did end up finding a rehab with lots of praise across my country, only to get there and realize I was in a labour camp rather than a drug rehab.
I hated every day of the 8 weeks I spent there because of the sheer overexertion and exhaustion due to the intensity of the rehab. Half of the clients at the place were there on parole conditions, and the other half were what we called "health beds." I wasn't on parole, nor have I ever served jail time, and when I asked the parolees, every single one of them told me the exact same thing. They all said, "This program is far harder than jail," and "I wanna go back to prison." Keep in mind some of these guys came from medium security and witnessed horrible things, which I won't elaborate on.
After those 8 weeks, I had enough. I was withdrawing off diazepam because the psychiatrist at that rehab tapered me down way too fast. I was also suffering akathisia from the antipsychotic I had to start taking 2 weeks into my stay because I had an episode of paranoid psychosis due to the exhaustion combined with the entire dynamic of the program. They were making me wait forever to get the meds I needed for the akathesia, even though the hospital faxed them a prescription for benztropine. I had enough of their bullshit, and so I left.
My parents were furious that I quit, but I was determined to find a better rehab, one that didn't practice slavery and intentional sleep deprivation as their entire philosophy, and 3 months later, I found the rehab where this story began.
So you can imagine how frustrated I was on hour 48 without sleep because the last 8 months flashed before my eyes. I saw all the misery and hopelessness, the grief and loss of all the years that were torn into shambles from my addiction, and after all the hard work and dedication, suffering and despair, just as everything seemed to be coming together and just after my dad said he had not seen me this stable for as long as he can remember, all the sudden I'm in a crisis.
On morning two, I wasn't fucking around. No Foquest, no relaxing with my eyes closed, and I powered through the day. Soon enough, it was hour 72, and I still hadn't gotten even a little half sleep in; I was fully conscious the whole time.
At this point, I proposed I go to the emergency room so I could speak to a psychiatrist fast, which is something I've had to do several times, but I was met with discouragement by my counsellor. He kept saying, "This is just a part of recovery." Then I refuted him by saying, "I haven't been smoking crack for 8 months. This isn't detox! This is my medication causing a crisis". I had enough of how oblivious he was, so I walked away from that conversation because he made me feel guilty for even asking such a thing, even though it was the best option that I should’ve done
My mind was so slow because of the time disorientation, and I became very compulsive. Sometimes, I would go into my room, and I was so uncomfortable living in my own skin. At times such as this, my body would go into its freeze instinct, and I was so uncomfortable. One time, I got into my room, and my shoes were all snowy, and I just froze and stood there staring into space, lost in my thoughts. It took me 30 minutes to take off my boots and tip-toe into bed.
One of the rules of the rehab I was at was that you cannot refuse meds, but suddenly, In the blink of an eye, I remembered my doctor's words when he increased the Duloxetine from 30 to 60. He said, "I'm gonna give you two 30mg capsules, but if anything bad happens, go back down to one capsule."
At that moment, I was in line to get my meds, and I realized that I had factored out everything. It had to be Duloxetine that caused these problems. I told the nurse I was choosing to lower my dose without their permission, and she vaguely warned me, saying, "Well, part of being in this program is taking your meds." I just shrugged it off, not understanding what she was eluding, but I wasn't gonna go through this torture any longer. This was on a Friday, so all the weekday staff in charge of the rehab left, and the weekend staff were there until Tuesday because it was a long weekend.
It was night four, and I could only expect the same shit over again, and sure enough, no matter how hard I tried, I didn't feel tired instead, I felt as if I were hypomanic because I felt mental energy that kept my mind awake but the fatigue was getting to me and I ended up falling asleep at like 5 am only to be loudly awoken by the P-A speaker in my room gave us a wake-up call at 6 am. And when I woke from this, I was sure as hell pissed off because I felt so much worse than before, but the good thing was it was the weekend which meant free time all day.
After the fucking megaphone in my room awoke me into shock, I stumbled out of bed, staggering, not so far as tripping over my feet yet, but needless to say, things were getting terrible given that in 4 days, I had slept 1 out of the other 95 hours. This morning at breakfast, I confirmed my theory that Duloxetine was causing these side effects because I began eating more and slowly regained my appetite.
So, on day 4, I was losing myself after that 1-hour nap that destroyed me. But the straw that broke the camel's back was a song I heard coming from the next room over, from my room, and I had the worst panic attack of my life because it was a song that my evil ex-girlfriend involved in my last relapse, would play while we smoked crack together so, of course, it caused flashbacks.
At this point, I had no composure left; I ran down the hall, went outside and started hitting my head off a brick wall until it bled. I was stopped in the act, and the staff had to call the ambulance.
I knew I was the most isolated hospital I'd ever been to when I arrived, and they told me they literally had no psychiatrists. Eventually, after waiting for a doctor, I had to explain everything all over again because the ambulance driver didn't hand off any of the info I had given them in the ambulance, and I almost didn't get any help. The nurse walked in and said, "How can I help you?" I was in shock and didn't realize yet that they didn't know anything about me, but even after I explained that I'd been awake for 4 days straight because of a medication, she just looked at me and said, "Well, you seem fine to me" This made me really angry at the world. They just thought I was on drugs, and eventually, after talking with her and the doctor, I said, "It seems as if you guys think I'm just high." They both just looked at each other, and from then on, I could tell they believed me. We talked, and I suggested we add 25mg of quetiapine, so the doctor sent me back to the rehab with a week’s worth in a bottle.
After I got back to the rehab, it was time for bed again, and thankfully, I got some sleep that night. However, the sleep wasn't restful enough, so I was still pretty loopy and anxious, but I continuously began eating more and more.
The following 2 nights, I managed to sleep through, and my eating habits were much more natural than before. I was starting to think my sleep was returning to normal and that everything would be okay, but when I got up Tuesday morning after 7 days of torture, I thought I had suffered enough. Unfortunately, since the staff who were in charge returned, they concluded that I needed to be medically discharged from the rehab, and I had 15 minutes to gather my shit and leave.

Olá, pessoal. Eu comecei a usar o Atentah há cinco meses 25mg para 40, 60 e então 80 (sendo que não apresentou melhora em comparação ao 60mg). Eu sempre tive problemas com insônia, mas tem meses que não sei que o que é dormir bem. Muitas vezes não passo de 2-3h. Estou sempre cansado. Fora a insônia, meus pensamentos não melhoraram. Penso muitas coisas o tempo todo e grande piora na ansiedade. Ritalina não dá certo, e esse Atentah até ajudou a minha memória, mas tá me deixando tão ansioso e com insônia, que parece que também não vale o esforço. Eu deito e minha cabeça não desliga. Me passaram Zolpidem, com efeito quase zero. Venvance acho bacana, mas só com 70mg, e me recuso a comprar pelo preço de hoje em dia.

About me:
29F - Height: 5'5" - Weight: 280 - Race: Caucasian -
Current Medical Conditions:
I have several medical conditions including MS, PCOS, ADHD, though its been relatively controlled by medication, though to this day I struggle with insomnia, and fatigue.
Medications:
I take Adderall XR 25mg daily, Avonex Pen Injection 1x weekly, On the nights I do my Avonex injection I take Zolpidem, Vitamin D
Drugs/Alcohol:
I do drink occasionally, I do not use drugs recreationally
​
2.5 years ago I decided to go on a diet. Partly because I have always been insecure in my own body, partly because I want to have kids, partly because I just wanted to be healthier. At the time I weighed 285 pounds, and over the course of the next year I lost 87 pounds by counting calories (I have an app that when you put your weight in it will recalculate your daily calories to help you stay on a caloric deficit) . I spent hours and hours making my diet work every week, spending a lot of time making sure every calorie was counted. I also cooked separate meals for my SO, since I knew the food I was going to make was not to his liking. My SO does not cook at all. I was very very proud of my weight loss. During my diet period I had several health issues flare up, though all of them ended up being a medication problem. For example being on Depo for too long, and because of the weight I had lost my doctor thinks I ended up getting a bad side effect. Another medication interaction that made me throw up chronically for weeks and weeks. But at the end of the day, I had another doctors appointment, and this time, I wanted to convey my frustration that my weight had plateaued over the past two months. It gave me a lot of anxiety, and my calories were down to like....1150 a day Monday-Thursday, and 1350 on Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Anyway, I went to the doctor, told her my frustrations, and she told me I was anorexic. That I would not be able to get pregnant on the diet I was on, and that I needed to stop, or at least see a nutritionist, which I hesitantly agreed. It did not sit well with me and plagued my mind for weeks until I had another appointment with the nutritionist. Well, they were a nutritionist, but they specialized in eating disorders and I felt totally blindsided and I was very upset. Anyway, it broke me of my diet, and a year later, I have regained all of the weight back. I don't feel good about myself, I feel so ashamed. I feel so frustrated. With my weight going back up I have started to get the generic PCOS acne (which I never had before) and that is tanking my self esteem even further. I have had an impaired glucose test in the past, and I do not want to become diabetic. Even more so, since I have not been able to muster the will power to go back on my diet. As is, I am struggling with one set on meal prepping for my SO and I. My work is expecting more from me, and honestly, I really like what I do. But I am out of the house by 8 in the morning, and a lot of the time I am not back till after 7. I really don't know what to do, and I am just so tired, I try to go and walk on the treadmill, but sometimes just the thought brings me to tears with how tired I am by time I am home. (I spend at least an hour commuting to work daily, I normally feel okay when I get off work, but once I am home, I loose all my remaining spoons. Sometimes I just sit and stare at blank computer screen, or doom scroll on my phone) I just don't know where to go with this at this point. I feel like my medical record is tarnished with an eating disorder claim on it, and because I have medical conditions I feel like if I swap health care systems and I complain about my weight they will only see the fact they said I had/have an eating disorder (I was bulimic when I was younger but my doctor did not know that). My insurance also only covers a limited amount of doctors in the area, and they don't cover medications to help with weight loss. I can't afford the various GLP medications, and I would not even be able to use them if I want to get pregnant right now. (I would have to discontinue Adderall as well if I were to become pregnant as well.) In the next few weeks I will be up for a promotion, but even so, my benefits wont get any better. Anyway. What should I do? I do not even know what I am asking for help for honestly. I want to loose weight, I want to get pregnant, I want my face to clear up, to get a good nights sleep, to not be so bone tired all of the time, hell, I would take one or two of those things. Advise?

Sorry for the long post, I wanted to explain as well as I could
I am diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety and ADHD and take medication for it - none interact negatively with Zolpidem
I was prescribed Zolpidem 10mg about 2 months ago, I went back to my dr and told him when I take them I feel more awake then before (which he explained could be due to how my body/mind are able to slow down and process things simply rather than overthinking them and that I have way less anxiety after taking them) and we went to 20mg (I had tried two other medications before this, melatonin, CBD, teas, meditation etc).
20mg does work however takes me 1.5-2 hours to be ready to sleep (I bc still wake up a couple times at night but I am actually able to fall back asleep), but the next morning it feels as if I was in a daze the night before and I feel as if I could compare it to being intoxicated almost. I somewhat question if I said anything wrong (I’m able to conclude I didn’t but I do question it first), and feel like it lessens my anxiety which is why I talk more openly.
Some nights as well I’ll take 25mg because I’ll still feel too energetic and awake after the 20mg. I’ve tried taking 10mg, then an hour later the second 10mg and just taking the 20mg at the same time.
(I am diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety and ADHD and take medication for it - none interact negatively with Zolpidem)
Has anyone experienced anything similar to this???? My doctor did speak to me about side effects, etc. but I’m just wanting to hear other people’s experiences.
Sorry for the long post, I wanted to explain as well as I could

21F with a history of interstitial cystitis, endometriosis, idiopathic hypersomnia, insomnia, pre-type 2 diabetes, depression, anxiety
I am currently taking 112.5mg of Venlafaxine ER, Zolpidem 5-10mg, Unisom, Gabapentin 600mg, Trileptal 300mg, Uribel 118mg, 100mg Modanafil once daily.
For the past month I have had recurring ear infections, sinus drainage and congestion, metallic taste in my mouth, painful cough and what I believe to be psychosis of some sort. I did not test positive for Covid, Flu, or Strep. I began taking Prednisone 10mg, Doxycycline 100mg, and 5ml of Promethazine DM once a night. The night I began taking all of this new stuff, I went into an extremely deep sleep and could not wake up. I couldn’t walk, my pain tolerance was heightened, my hands shook, I had zero sense of reality. I couldn’t remember anything from 5 seconds before. This lasted right at one week.
Last night I still couldn’t sleep so I took a nighttime THC/CBN edible that was 10mg THC, 5mg CBN and one 25mg unisom tablet plus my daily meds. The psychosis feeling returned tenfold. I had insatiable hunger, I ate everything in this house that we had available. I am still not fully coherent but I’m a little better. My PCP does not have answers. My psychiatrist thinks it is just a drug interaction. The pharmacist said he thinks it is some type of virus. Someone please help.

Buenos días/ buenas tardes a todos. Quisiera leer sus experiencias con el tema de los antidepresivos. La semana pasada vi un equipo de salud mental, me diagnosticaron depresión y ansiedad. Me dijeron que tengo que hacer psicoterapia y vi a un psiquiatra por primera vez, me mandó Sertralina, empezando con 25mg y tengo que subir a 50mg en una semana. El primer día todo bien, pero ayer me empecé a marear, estaba como en un viaje astral, sentía el cuerpo muy raro. Quisiera si me pueden compartir sus experiencias (no conozco mucha gente, y nadie que tome antidepresivos) así que me serían de gran ayuda. Desde ya muchas gracias
Edit: también estoy tomando Zolpidem de noche

I don’t get it. I’ve been having very poor sleep for the past 6 months. And got worse little by little and I developed sleep anxiety. I know I won’t sleep again so i take meds but even with that i still can’t sleep. I spend the whole day like a ZOMBIE, eyes puffy and RED, and still at night i’m Wide awake. I even struggle to keep my eyes closed tonight. I took magnesium , 25mg seroquel + Xanax 0,5 and still here can’t sleep. I’m gonna probably add the zolpidem but i hate to cause even tho it makes me fall asleep it wakes me up 4 hours later and makes it worse bc can’t fall back asleep 🤡☠️ don’t tell me to try CBD it doesn’t exist in my country. I legit dk what to do atp even the doctor (i am a doctor too) can’t prescribe more than that, zolpidem being the most powerful one. I WOULD SELL MY LEFT KIDNEY IN EXCHANGE FOR SLEEP if anyone wants to trade dm me
Edit 1: I try to sleep btw. I always try for at least 1-2 hours and nothing

I was prescribed Zolpidem 10mg about a month ago (had tried two other medications before this, melatonin, CBD, teas, meditation etc). After two weeks I had told me doctor that after I’d take the 10mg, I’d be more awake then before and have a lot of energy. I was told to take 20mg, it does work (I still wake up a couple times at night but I am actually able to fall back asleep), but the next morning it feels as if I was in a daze the night before and I feel as if I could compare it to being intoxicated almost. I somewhat question if I said anything wrong (I’m able to conclude I didn’t but I do question it first), and feel like it lessens my anxiety which is why I talk more openly. (I am diagnosed with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety and ADHD and take medication for it - none interact negatively with Zolpidem)
Some nights as well I’ll take 25mg because I’ll still feel too energetic and awake after the 20mg. I’ve tried taking 10mg, then an hour later the second 10mg and just taking the 20mg at the same time.
Has anyone experienced anything similar to this? My doctor did speak to me about side effects, etc. but I’m just wanting to hear other people’s experiences. Sorry for the long post, I wanted to explain as well as I could.

does anyone feel like you’re taking too many medications for treatment? they’re all necessary for different issues, but the list of meds just keep growing and i feel like… i dunno. i shouldn’t need this many different kinds of pills to be functional 😩
NOT looking for medical advice, just want to see how y’all deal with taking multiple medications
for reference, im on these daily meds - concerta 36mg for adhd - amitriptilyne 25mg for migraines - flunarizine 10mg for migraines - zoloft 100mg for depression - diazepam 5mg for anxiety - marvelon birth control
as needed prescriptions: - alprazolam 1mg (for panic attacks or heightened anxiety) - ritalin 10mg (for working later in the evening when concerta wears off) - zolpidem 10mg (for severe insomnia days)

So I've been an insomniac for a few years and would do the 3am dreaded wake up and that's me. So the drug journey began which I've detailed for others to compare to BTW I'm in Austrlia so some drugs are different and available/ not available. 1. Zolpidem (ambien called stilnox here). Still rated as my no. 1 but it's addictive and can't be used long term so not a real solution. Pros sleep within 30mins and wake up sup refreshed. Dosage half 12mg tablet. Effects everyone differently. Heard some horror stories.Dreams are okay. 6.5mg SR also good. 2. Suvorexant (Belsomra) started this for a few nights warnings include dead sleep paralysis. Man this stuff was messy had the worst complex and real dreams. Stephen King style. Could have authored a few books in the morning. Stopped after a week. 3. Agomelatine (Domion) not available in the U.S. as there can be liver complications. Need to monitor liver function levels. Blood tests every 6 weeks started with 25mg went up to 50mg. Sleep started of okay but wasn't fantastic. Nothing compared to Ambien and still woke up at 3am here and there. Dawn expensive. Over $100 a month. 4. CBD oil with 2% THC. Started off okay but got to used to it and stopped working nil effect and very expensive. $250 for 2 months. 5. THC:CBD Mix with a much higher concentration of THC. Works a treat fairly enjoyable but legally can't drive and became an issue if random breath tested which occurs frequently in Aus. 6. Amitriptyline (10mg) - been on it 2 weeks. Works a treat, dreams are a bit vivid and very long. Sleep well but am finding it difficult to wake up. Will progress to see how this goes. Also moods are much much more stable. Also need to take a few hours before bed so does complicate any form of night life.
P.s. was quite keen to try trazadone but it's not available in Austrlia.
The fight continues but I don't dread going to sleep which in itself is a positive.
There are a lot more details i have on each and can let you know. Feel free to ask question on any.

So I've had a lot of changes in my life the past while, and have been unable to reliably get good sleep for around 5 months now, so I have made a list of all possible causes/events I could think of. As well, I've been diagnosed and am currently being treated for GAD and ADD:
Started new job in april last year, started getting more stressful as autumn came around. Was sleeping alright until then I think. Started waking up very anxious every morning. Got a big health scare in October that shook me up a lot and put me into a spiral downwards
Insomnia started as me noticing I kept waking up at around 1-3am every night after going to bed at 10pm, noticed this around the start of september out of the blue, couldn't remember how long that had been happening, but before the health scare and big life realizations and regret
Mid October noticed moldy furniture and moved it out, did a clean of room woth ammonia mold killer. Was my night table which I had in room for at least a couple months beforehand, right next to where I lay my head
Started bupropion in mid May, late september started tapering off bupropion xl (300 to 150 to zero over a few weeks) because I was worried that was causing my insomnia. Was drinking too much while on this, have since quit drinking since end of november
Had alao drastically cut down on weed usage. Which used to be all day every day for a couple years, to only in the evenings, to taking breaks for weeks before starting again, to completely stopping now I hope
Was on vyvanse shortly in May as well, but stopped taking not long after
Tried zopiclone late september, zolpidem early october, neither consistiently worked very well, never took either every night
Now on short term sickness keave from work. Been started on 0.25mg of clonazepam and 50mg of trazodone at night, but also does not seem to help. Neither had melatonin ever worked. Am also on fluoxetine and adderal now, which I take in the early morning
Still no idea what originally caused it. Whether the mold, drinking while on meds, or just being too obsessive about the original insomnia episodes that rubbed this into a raw festering wound. No idea what to do from this point on either, I need to be able to get better and get back to work. Should I try harder with sleep restriction? And what kind of exercise do you think is best and when to help get to sleep? Trying meditation and PMR now to no real effect

Yesterday I decided to take 1 whole pill of quetiapinade 25mg. I took the pills at 9:15 p.m., and at 9:57 p.m. I started to feel stronger effects. At 9:30 p.m. he had taken Zolpidem.
I take it at night because my problem is insomnia.
The thing is that having already taken the pills, I was writing with the notebook, and I started to see everything blurry, and I thought "yes, the effect is greater, so I'll get out of it." And images began to come to my head. Images of people I know, in different positions, everything happened very quickly.
Then I went to bed, and I saw red and blue colors, flashes, with great speed and exchange. I got a little scared.
But then the trippy part. With my eyes closed, in bed, images came to me like a "broken television", that "gray rain of televisions", but with stains and explosions all the time.
I opened my eyes to see if I could still see it, and a little bit yes, sometimes I saw those red and blue flashes with my eyes open. But when I closed my eyes everything increased. I was very scared.
I saw some images of people, in different positions, all very quickly. I came to think "my brain must be dreaming, but I must be awake." I was trying to relax, because the images were really very powerful.
Until yes, they stopped. But then I started hearing voices, like people around me talking. Not around, in my head. They were simple conversations "two lemons", "did you reserve the place?", "hello how are you", etc., sometimes from what seemed like a couple of a man and a woman.
Other times murmurings. Etc
Has anyone had these same effects? I know I took a higher dose than prescribed, they told me to gradually increase it, this day I should have only taken half. But my insomnia is so desperate that I look for something quick. I will not do it anymore. Now I will follow the instructions the way they told me
The good thing, today I woke up at 5:15am ! Something that I needed to do in a looooong time.

Ola! Eu faço uso se escitalopram (15mg) e Vyvanse (45mg). Quando tenho insônia eu uso prysma 2mg ou zolpidem 3.5mg (divido o comprimido de 5mg em dois). Porém meu prysma acabou e só vou ao médico no mês q vem. Meu marido toma tradazona pra induzir o sono (25mg) e já ouvi dizer que algumas pessoas com TDAH tbm já usaram. Porém tenho mtoooo receio de interação medicamentosa e síndrome serotoninérgica e queria trocar ideias com quem já fez o uso do tradazona pra induzir o sono, mesmo tomando escitalopram

21, male, ~170cm, 43kg, caucasian, less and less energy, recurring psychosis, weird movement disorder, problems with speech, dissociation, multiple alters, hands locking into place, half a year except the last symptom
issues: babesia, bartonella, borrelia (all chronic), treated adrenal issues
mental: BPD, OCPD, DPD, PAPD, Paranoid PD, GAD, Panic disorder, severe OCD, persistent depressive disorder, PTSD (all by psychiatrist)
meds:
LDN 1mg
clonazepam tapering slowly ~0.325mg i think (nearly three quarters of a 0.5 tablet)
I dont do drugs, no alcohol, no nicotine, no vape, no caffeine
occasional zolpidem 5mg and lyrica 25mg
question:
if i have recurring psychotic episodes and antipsychotics didnt work (caused me anhedonia, tardive tourettism, and messed up like 6 of my teeth in one year) and due to negative symptoms im too tired to even take my meds let alone go to a doctor who could lock me up, what is the most correct definition to call myself when i was diagnosed with psychosis in a hospital once and episodes became almost never ending. I dissociate all day and I’m multiple people but they dont always feel seperate from the host so i dont think it’s DID, but i have lots of amnesia. What is the correct term for a person with recurring psychosis when i can’t go to a professional yet to get an official diagnosis? because psychosis is inaccurate, that’s only an acute symptom but in my case its chronic
my other question, today my hands locked into weird positions, I’m prone to making half voluntary feral-like faces even if I’m not angry at all. I’m getting numb and apathetic, everyone seems hyper, i had trouble opening bottles bc my hands just locked into place and froze. I looked like what those people i saw as a kid in wheelchairs looked like, that awkward hand position similar to the seizure position. i dont know of any seizures in my case but one night i was hearing voices (rare but are realistic) and i started convulsing in my bed until i took clonazepam so i slept. Everyday i wake up and i can’t recognise previous selves as me, even in the mirror i had to make friends with my mirror self bc i can’t recognise him as me, he was staring at me (in my head i thought that). I oscillate between being very loving and being cold and almost narcissistic, it’s a slow progression
im not here for official diagnosis of course or substitute but i need a little peace of mind to know at least what is correct to call myself as regarding psychotic issues (i have one diagnosis about that and that’s all, i didnt bring it up with psychiatrists bc here they take away our rights in my country)
so
-ideas for the hand freeze thing? And restless face expressions?
-what is chronic psychosis in medical terms, I’m embarrassed deeply not having an official diagnosis for the chronic asperc but i can’t do it yet
thank you! I love you

Hello
I (32M) have been dealing with anxiety for around 9 years and I have been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder. I have seen many doctors and psychiatrists and I have had different medications, such as Escitalopram, Desvenlafaxina, Clonazepam, Alprazolam and others. Around two years ago I was feeling better and decided to apply for an scholarship in Japan which I got. I have been in Japan since then without any medication.
However, at the beginning of November, I got insomnia and I developed anxiety again. Of course, there are many causes, but I am not sure why (stress due to presentations, research, being away from my family, the prospect of living in Japan from now on,...). I visited a psychiatrist, who prescribed me Fluvoxamine (0.25mg twice a day) and a sleeping pill (zolpidem once a day for 4 weeks) as well lorazepam for emergency only.
I felt relieved that I manage to see an English-speaking doctor, since I live in a small town and I have to travel a couple of hours to a bigger city. Because, I was feeling better (even before starting taking the medication) I didn't took the sleeping pill and I have been taking only Fluvoxamine. But after more than 2 weeks (almost 3 weeks) of taking Fluvoxamine, I started feeling anxiety again and having insomnia. So, I started taking the sleeping pill.
I would like to know if anyone have experienced this, since I would expect to have this kind of side effects at the beginning, not almost 3 weeks after. Or maybe the medication haven't really started working yet? I just want to optimized my very short follow-up appointment next week (National Insurance covered appointments are usually 30 minutes for the first one and the 6 minutes for follow ups). I don't know If I am being over-dramatic and I have to wait more or I have to visit my psychiatrist before.

I used to have anxiety but I don't have it anymore. I took amitriptyline 10mg once, diazepam 2mg once, pregabalin 25mg once, diphenhydramate 50mg on 4 nights, zolpidem 10mg on 4 nights, fluoxetine 20mg for 4 days. I took this months or years ago and I've never felt the same in my brain like I used to. I read again today that TCA and benzos can cause brain damage. I'm so tired of having ruined my life. :/ I tell myself the medicines didn't do anything but my brain doesnt change. It used to just be normal. :( I'm just dead inside, no awareness.

Bom, eu tô no terceiro ano do ensino médio, reta final pra me formar, mas eu tô com medo de repetir de ano porque minhas frequências são péssimas. Precisa de 75% de frequência pra passar e esse bimestre algumas matérias eu tive 20% de frequência, porque eu não consigo ir pra escola. Desde bem pequeno eu tenho problema com ansiedade por problema com meu pai em casa, ansiedade forte mesmo, tanto que até hoje eu sofro muito em alguns quesitos por traumas que ele gerou em mim, e essa ansiedade me gerou uma insônia porque quando pequeno eu tinha muito pesadelo (não sei se tem relação direta com isso do meu pai ser agressivo) e paralisia do sono (que tenho até hoje), e tinha medo de dormir, então eu me forçava a ficar acordado o máximo possível, tipo, eu com 8 anos ficava até 3 da manhã olhando pro teto só pra não dormir, então até hoje tenho problema com insônia e relógio biológico desregulado. Voltando ao foco, eu estudo integral, porque perto de casa só tem ensino médio integral ou a noite, e a noite eu nem cogito muito tentar fazer porque só tem noia, ia ser o mesmo que não estudar porque provavelmente eu ia embarcar nas brisa deles e não ia fazer nada. Então o que me resta é o integral, das 7:30 as 16:30, só que eu não consigo acordar antes das 7:30 pra ir pra escola porque eu só consigo dormir depois das 4 (geralmente as 5/6h) , então quando eu acordo de manhã, eu tô morto, o corpo mole, taquicardia, e ainda pra ajudar na insônia eu tenho desvio de septo então eu não respiro direito, o que também ataca minha taquicardia. Ai eu acabo não indo porque tô morto, a maior parte dos dias que eu vou pra aula, eu vou virado porque se não, eu não consigo ir. E eu me sinto um lixo por isso, a diretora e os professores fizeram piada no conselho de classe por eu chegar atrasado quase todo dia sendo que minha mae mandou bilhete avisando a escola que isso se dava por eu ter insônia e crise de ansiedade a noite, e provavelmente todo mundo que vê isso pensa que eu só sou um vagabundo preguiçoso. Eu já tentei fazer tratamento com zolpidem e quetiapina, o Zolpidem não fez efeito alem do alucinógeno mas eu tomava mesmo assim porque pelo menos me distraia dos meus pensamentos (e minha mente é um inferno), e o quetiapina fez por um tempo mas parou de fazer rápido, a nível de em 6 meses minha dosagem ter aumentado de 25mg pra 200mg e os de 200mg ainda não fazerem efeito direito. Já tentei tomar melatonina e mais uma caralhada de coisa pra ver se dormia, mas não consigo. Com ou sem música, som ambiente, asmr, ambiente totalmente escuro, janela aberta, fechada, com ventilador, sem, desligando celular antes, já tentei de tudo. Pra ajudar, também sou hiperativo, então é um sacrifício ficar parado na cama até dormir, ainda mais porque quando eu faço isso, eu geralmente fico 2 horas ou mais de olho fechado e não consigo dormir porque não vem sono ou eu não consigo calar minha mente (também já tentei tomar remédio pra ansiedade), tá quase impossível dormir ultimamente. Ano passado eu fechei o ano com 500 faltas, esse ano já tô com isso e mal começou o 4 bimestre, e eu não sei o que fazer. Já tô pensando em como vou fazer supletivo ano que vem, porque é quase certo que vou repetir. 😕