Memo

TO: Amygdala -- Putting you in a sack and hammering on you is better than you deserve, you bitch, but that's all I have.

I'd rather panic.

I read an aquarium-keeping book when I was a kid, and it had a whole chapter on ways to euthanize your sickly or less-attractive fish. The author's preferred method was to put the fish in a sack and then swing that sack as hard as possible against a brick wall.

That's what clonazepam (or any member of the benzodiazepine family) does to my panicking brain. It takes it from "swimming frantically in a shroud of formless yet predatory terror" and slams it hard it into "liquefied, possibly smeared all over a wall, definitely not functional." It's not fun. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.