I never thought I’d get addicted to something as small as a pill. But that’s exactly what happened.

It all started when I couldn’t sleep. No matter how tired I was, my mind wouldn’t shut off. I would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling more frustrated with every passing minute. A friend suggested I see a doctor, and that’s when I was prescribed Alprazolam.

At first, it was a blessing. One tiny pill, and I’d drift off into a deep sleep. No more tossing and turning. No more exhaustion the next day. I felt like I had finally found the solution.

But soon, one pill wasn’t enough. I needed two. Then three. If I tried to sleep without it, I’d feel restless, anxious, and completely helpless. I told myself I wasn’t addicted—I just needed it to function. But deep down, I knew the truth.

One night, as I reached for the pill bottle, I caught my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked dull, my face tired. This wasn’t me. I used to be full of energy, always laughing, always ready for the day. Now, I was just… existing.

That’s when I decided to stop.

The first few nights were awful—sleeplessness, anxiety, and the constant urge to give in. But instead of reaching for the pill, I started making small changes. I reduced my dose gradually, set a fixed bedtime, and replaced my screen time with reading. Chamomile tea and deep breathing exercises helped me relax, while evening walks and journaling cleared my mind. Whenever I struggled, I reminded myself why I started. Slowly, my body adjusted, and I began sleeping naturally again.

Now, months later, I no longer depend on those pills. The bottle is still in my drawer, untouched—a reminder of how far I’ve come. And every night, as I close my eyes, I feel proud. Because this time, sleep comes naturally. And so does peace.