I was addicted to Valium after one dose in Bali

IT’S been described as a “national emergency” in Australia, but a quick fix for back pain while I was in Bali got me in deep trouble.

MY FRIEND’S nose splattered blood when I punched it.

He got up from his seat. He let out a strained groan when I delivered push-kick to his stomach. I pulled him to the ground; demanded he concede that I was right and he wrong.

We’d been drinking wine, arguing, name-calling. My friend was living in Bali, I’d been living a few suburbs away. Two days before I went to my friend’s house I walked into a Kuta souvenir shop, and said to the blackened tooth man with grotty trousers behind the counter: “Valium, thanks”.

Then we started a well-rehearsed dance. The man opened the drawer, pulled a flat-foil pack of ten and asked for 500 rupiah ($AU40). I threatened to call the police, he lowered the price to 150. I said 100 rupiah. He said 400. I said I’d call the police if he didn’t lower the price. We agreed on 150. I knew he’d been trying to rip me off, I’d already been buying one packet every day from the closed shop next-door for the past month.

SLIPPING INTO VALIUM ADDICTION

I’ll quickly mention my back pain, my sleeping difficulties, the fact I’d been off crystal meth for two years, how I’d directed my obsessiveness into work. How I was having trouble relaxing.

But I don’t have an excuse. I knew my back pain comes and goes, I’d learn to meditate in Thailand to help me relax. I wanted the quick way out. I knew I might get addicted.

After taking the first two Valium I got the effect of an hour of concentrated meditation in minutes. I felt light and vacuous. Petty worries felt swallowed by a wave of honey. Actually, everything suddenly became rather sweet and goey. I pulled my blanket on the floor, delighting in Indonesian language programs, cigarettes turning to ash-lines before I remembered to take a drag.

Kuta is a magnet for Australians partying, and they’re often targeted by drug dealers. Photo: Lukman S. Bintoro

Two became three a day. I smiled my way through a 20-second, 6.4 Richter scale earthquake.

Three-a-day. Clocks went backwards; Bali became as carefree as my childhood. I befriended the neighbourhood dogs, the neighbourhood bull; my villa owner (“you are looking so much happier and less stressed lately, Luke”) invited me over for dinner with his family.

Four-a-day; clocks melted. Five-a-day; I was a well-off, delirious, 1950s housewife in a Salvador Dali painting.

My back pain went away, but if I didn’t take the Valium I grew a tumour of stomach anxiety. I went back to Kuta for sixths and sevenths, then went back to the villa to sing Deborah Harry’s Sweet and Low swirling around alone in my room with an imaginary friend while wearing imaginary glitter-butterfly face masks.

Then I realised I had a problem. I tried to cut down and the days withdrawing felt like God’s turds. I sent angry emails to my (now former) agent, PR people, twitter hatters, rivals (including two emails with a GIF of Judge Judy wearing devil horns — which to this day I can’t really explain why I did that — um … seemed like a good idea at the time?).

I flung a full plastic bottle of Coke at a taxi driver who kept trying to get me into a brothel. The taxi driver responded by circling the block throwing rocks at me for the next 20 minutes.

When a Balinese shop-worker blocked my way in Legian, we argued until he reached down and picked up a jagged, half-brick-size cracked concrete piece and swiped it at my head. Well might he should — my behaviour aside; the Indonesians are the smallest people on the planet.

After my outbursts, I’d get upset at myself, I’d feel guilt, embarrassment, fury. Then I’d buy some more, making it Sweet and Low just the way I like it — again, and again and again.

“A NATIONAL EMERGENCY”

Valium is the brand-name for Diazepam — a central nervous suppressant that belongs to a class of drugs called benzodiazepines.

‘Benzo’ abuse is common. More Australians die from benzodiazepines overdose than from any other legal or illegal drug. In 2016, 663 people died from taking prescription tranquillisers. By contrast, 330 Australians died from heroin overdoses that same year.

Most Australians who abuse benzos don’t buy them illegally — they are prescribed them as medicine by their doctor. Actually, the Australian Medical Association has said abuse of prescription drugs among Australians is a “national emergency”.

There’s also a thing called Benzodiazepine Withdrawal Syndrome; a physical dependence, so when you stop using or just cut down you can get irritable, sweaty, shaky, confused, psychotic and apparently violent.

REACHING OUT FOR HELP

I hadn’t taken any Valiums the day I went to see my friend. I’d been trying to withdraw. I thought drinking alcohol would ease the urges — that perhaps I could go a day without taking any.

After my friend’s Indonesian partner dragged me off him, I went home, took two Valiums, slept and woke up feeling putrid. I rang the Mensline free counselling service and the young female counsellor listened closely, filled me with hope and said: “You’ve been through residential rehab. You’ve given up drugs before, you can do it again.”

I also rang my long-suffering mum, she gasped when I told her what was happening. But what she said back surprised me.

She admitted to me that when she was prescribed Valium thirty years ago for back pain, she got addicted and had to wean herself off.

“Promise me you’ll reduce what your taking by half-a-tablet-a-day, just bit by bit until you stop.”

Luke was surprised when he learned his mum had been through a similar problem many years before.

Mum’s ruling was final. I eased down from seven to three a day and then I just stopped. Realising, I think, suburban Bali with its free-range dogs, friendly bulls, lizards and kids playing in the street was a bit like my childhood anyway; not a place where I required self-sedation.

So I will say I am very sorry to my friend, but even more so I really need to say: “Thank you Mum”.

PREVENTING BENZODIAZEPINE ADDICTION AND HARM

Benzodiazepines are minor tranquillisers used to suppress the nervous system, and are usually prescribed by doctors to relieve anxiety or insomnia. Common brand names include Valium, Xanax, Serepax, Normison and Mogadon.

Long-term use of benzodiazepines can lead to depression, impaired thinking, behavioural changes and weight gain.

Dr Hester Wilson, Chair of The Royal Australian College of General Practitioners’ Addiction Medicine Specific Interest Network, told news.com.au that benzodiazepines should only be used for a “few days, for short-term relief of a medical condition, while you get the underlying problem sorted”.

Any longer and you will probably have difficulty getting off them — and your underlying medical condition will probably get worse.

“Individuals taking benzodiazepines need to be aware of the risks (both addiction and overdose) and speak to their family about the risks,” Dr Wilson told news.com.au. She said that they may need to check with their Doctor every one to two days while they are taking them and get a loved one to keep an eye on them.

Most benzodiazepine overdoses are accidental and happen when the user stops breathing while sleeping. Those with respiratory conditions, users who mix them with alcohol, opioids, cannabis and/or antidepressants are most at risk of overdose.

“If a user is sleeping and breathing strangely, shake them awake, try to rouse them, call 000 and perform mouth to mouth resuscitation,” Dr Wilson told news.com.au.

Where to Go for Help

Beyond Blue 1300 22 4636

DrugInfo line & email service 1300 85 85 84

DirectLine Drug Counselling 1800 888 236

Mensline 1300 78 99 78

Lifeline Australia 13 11 14

Emergency services 000