“I took one sleeping pill and woke up with an invoice.” 😂
Apparently I Cannot Be Trusted While Unconscious
OK y’all, I’ve been telling you I was going to tell this story, and it might be a little embarrassing, but at this point what exactly am I holding back from y’all? 😂
Nothing. The answer is nothing.
So, I have always had trouble sleeping. My brain apparently believes 11:00 p.m. is the perfect time to review every decision I’ve made since 1987, solve problems that don’t exist yet, remember something embarrassing I said 14 years ago, and wonder if I ever responded to an email from Tuesday.
I cannot turn the damn thing OFF.
Is it anxiety? Probably.
Is it psychological? Maybe.
Are we psychoanalyzing me tonight? Absolutely the fuck not. 😂 Especially because in about 45 minutes I’m taking my Willie Juice, and after that nobody needs to be making any major discoveries about my mental health.
Anyway…
Welton and I had probably been dating about a year. Maybe less. Hell, I don’t know. We’re calling it a year because I don’t feel like doing relationship math tonight.
For a long time I didn’t have health insurance, so I wasn’t one of those people running to the doctor every time I had a hangnail. If something wasn’t actively falling off my body, we were probably just going to see how it played out.
Then Welton put me and my kids on his insurance. How that happened is an entirely different story for another night because apparently my life has SEASONS.
So now I had insurance, I couldn’t sleep, and I thought, “Well hell, I’ll go to the doctor.”
Simple.
I tell him I can’t sleep.
He gives me Ambien.
Problem solved.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Y’all.
I took ONE regular old Ambien.
Welton and I went to bed like two responsible adults.
And apparently sometime in the middle of the night, Ambien Tammy clocked in for her shift.
Regular Tammy was unconscious.
Ambien Tammy had PLANS.
This woman got out of bed, got into a CAR, drove across the median and INTO THE NEIGHBOR’S BRAND-NEW CAR.
I would like to remind everyone that I WAS ASLEEP.
Then apparently I got out of the car, left it sitting in the median, fell down on the ground and couldn’t get back up.
Meanwhile Welton is asleep in the house, probably dreaming peacefully about whatever normal people dream about, until he hears the commotion and comes outside to discover his relatively new girlfriend has apparently started a demolition derby in the neighborhood.
Can you IMAGINE?
You’ve been dating somebody maybe a year and suddenly you’re standing outside in the middle of the night looking at her on the ground, her car in the median and the neighbor’s brand-new car smashed up.
At that point I feel like Welton had two choices:
Help me.
Go back inside, lock the door and reconsider every decision that had led him to this moment.
😂😂😂
And before anybody says it—NO, it was not funny at the time.
Not even a little bit.
It was scary as hell.
We had to pay for the neighbor’s car. We had to pay for the damage I did driving across the median. My car was damaged.
Basically I took one sleeping pill and woke up with an invoice.
That was my first experience with Ambien.
And my LAST.
Some people take Ambien and sleep eight beautiful hours.
I apparently take Ambien and become an uninsured stunt driver.
Never. Again.
And honestly, after that I never really went back looking for prescription sleeping medicine.
I have taken Xanax over the years for anxiety, but Xanax doesn’t really put me to sleep. It just relaxes me. And I don’t take it often at all. Sometimes I go months without taking one.
Usually it’s when my anxiety gets REALLY bad.
And here is another thing about me that makes absolutely no damn sense:
Sometimes when we are on vacation, I get terrible anxiety THE DAY WE ARE COMING HOME.
Coming home.
TO MY OWN HOUSE.
From VACATION.
What am I worried about??
I work for myself.
I don’t have a boss waiting for me Monday morning.
Actually, I DO have a boss.
It’s me.
So if I’m having problems with management, apparently I need to schedule a meeting with myself. 😂
But anxiety doesn’t give a shit about logic.
When mine gets bad, I can’t breathe right, my stomach hurts, and I can work myself into an absolute frenzy. Then later, when it’s over, I’ll think, “Tammy…what the hell was THAT about?”
No clue.
My brain likes extracurricular activities.
Welton also HATES me taking anything.
My husband is a rule follower.
A REAL rule follower.
If your name is not printed on that prescription bottle, you better not even THINK about swallowing it in this house.
He’d probably ask a Tylenol for two forms of identification.
Which brings me to the one completely ridiculous exception.
Every time we go to Mexico, I somehow come home with amoxicillin.
I even bought some in Santorini.
Some women travel internationally and bring home beautiful pottery, local artwork and handcrafted souvenirs.
I apparently collect antibiotics.
😂😂😂
And YES, before the medical people come for me, I KNOW antibiotics are not something you should just take every time you “get sick.” Consider me officially yelled at. This is a story about the questionable decisions I have made—not medical advice from Dr. Tammy.
So that’s the Ambien story.
One pill.
One car.
One median.
One neighbor’s brand-new car.
And one boyfriend standing outside in the middle of the night probably wondering if adding me to his insurance was the worst financial decision he had ever made.
And somehow…
HE STILL MARRIED ME.
Which honestly may be the biggest plot twist in this entire story.
Anyway, that’s all I’ve got tonight because Willie Juice is coming up soon, and as we have already established, pharmaceuticals and I have a complicated history.
Love ❤️ Love ❤️ y’all.
And please—for the love of God—do not take medical advice from this blog. 😂