Thorazine has been a more faithful friend to me over the past 25 years than most humans have been. Thorazine has never lied to me or used me, or stolen from me or abused me or deceived me. Thorazine does not say bad things about me behind my back or borrow things from me without returning them. What Thorazine does do is rather remarkable and no human friend can match its abilities. My first dose had me convinced, because the drug silenced the roaring in my head.
And because of this sudden silence, I was able to speak again, and hear my own voice, and respond to others without a huge chaos of echoes in my head. It was like being brought up from a deep well, having been drowning in it for so long, in a very narrow, soggy place, now out in the open, free, and able to move about–and speak! I could ask for what I needed: a toothbrush, a pen, a spoon.
It is odd that I needed silence to speak, thereby producing noise, almost as odd as the expression my ADHD mother uses, “It’s so loud in here, I can’t hear myself think!”