"I lost control when everything should have been better, when I had finally found the strength to start a new life. A better one, I hoped.

Four months earlier, I had broken up with Jens, the man I had been with for six years. He had cheated on me the previous summer and our relationship had never recovered from the breach of trust. We had fallen out of love, we argued every day for months and at some point I just couldn't take it anymore. To protect my 11-year-old daughter Nele, I finally decided to draw a line under my relationship with Jens.

The break-up affected me more than I wanted to admit

He moved out of the apartment we shared in Cologne. At the same time, I started a new job as a management assistant at a management consultancy. I was grateful for the new job because I would earn a little better there - and that was important because I had to pay the rent on my own from then on. The separation affected me more than I wanted to admit. In the evenings after work, I often felt lonely and helpless - especially as I sensed that Nele also missed Jens a lot and mourned the happy times. What's more, my new boss had extremely high expectations of me. In the first few months, not a day went by when I didn't have to work overtime.
I didn't have to work overtime. I never received any praise for my efforts, instead he reprimanded me almost every day. Giving in or complaining was out of the question for me. I wanted to fight my way through, I wanted to prove that I was strong and independent, that I could manage my life on my own. I wanted to show everyone - my boss, Nele, Jens and myself.

But more and more often, I couldn't get to sleep at night. Then I tossed and turned from side to side and worried. What if I failed at work, what if I lost my well-paid job? I also thought about Jens every day. I still hadn't gotten over the fact that he had cheated on me. We were happy, we loved each other, how could he hurt me so much? Night after night, hour after hour, I lay awake in the dark, thinking the same thoughts and feeling small, worthless and powerless.

I just wanted to be able to sleep

The lack of sleep wore me down, I became restless at work and made mistakes. So I started taking sleeping pills. That's where it all started. In the first few weeks it was just half a tablet, later, when that was no longer enough, a whole tablet and after a few months up to two whole tablets every evening. Initially I took over-the-counter pills from the pharmacy, but later I resorted to sleeping pills prescribed by my doctor - benzodiazepine tablets, which I now know are highly addictive. My doctor had emphasized that they were only a temporary solution and that the cause of my complaints needed to be investigated more closely. But I didn't want to hear about it. Autogenic training? Stress management? Psychotherapy? I didn't have time for that. I just wanted to be able to sleep, to get my work done, to function. When my doctor refused to continue prescribing the tablets, I quickly went to another one.

I was finally able to sleep at night, but during the day I was still exhausted and suffered more and more from severe headaches. So I started to take additional painkillers. Initially only when the pain was really severe. Later, at the slightest sign. I soon stopped leaving the house without tablets in my pocket.

I had a crying fit

Nele noticed this too. She asked me several times about the boxes of pills on my bedside table and in our bathroom cabinet. 'The doctor prescribed them for me. She'll know what she's doing. Don't worry, my darling,' I tried to reassure her. But Nele didn't let up and took my sister Maike into her confidence. When Maike came over one evening and asked me about the medication, I had a crying fit. I poured my heart out to her and told her everything. That I was now taking up to twelve tablets to somehow get through the day. That I could no longer do without them because I immediately suffered from severe pain if I stopped taking them. That I no longer knew how I was supposed to cope with life without the medication.

The next day, we went to an addiction counseling center together. They helped me to clarify matters in writing with the health and pension funds and to find a suitable facility. A little later, I was admitted to hospital for detoxification, after which my twelve-week withdrawal began. In the specialist clinic, I confided in psychotherapists for the first time in my life. I realized that I had been carrying a deep fear of failure and not being loved since I was a child, no matter how hard I tried. I learned to be lenient with myself when I have dark thoughts instead of taking pills.

It's now been a year since quitting. I still see a psychotherapist once a week. She has encouraged me to let go of things that aren't good for me - for example, my job in management consulting. I've just found a new one. And now it's really starting, my new, better life."