Tag Archives: insomnia

Went to sleep at 3.30am, woke up at 11.50am. There is rubbish all over the kitchen. More than ever I need a cheerleader or someone to take me to the shops. I feel like I can’t figure out what I need or how to leave the house. I don’t want to shower, I don’t want to get dressed and I don’t want to do anything. I can’t even imagine exercising, all I want is to eat cereal and lie down and die. Even breathing feels like an effort, my chest feels so heavy. I want to go back to my dreams. I was go karting and swimming and eating ice creams and surrounded by people who is could’ve had sex with.

I’ve not had any trazodone for the past couple of nights. It feels like the insomnia I had as a kid and a teenager. I used the time to write something before I went to sleep. My head feels numb.

Got offered another sleep shift. I turned it down.

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I’m exhausted. I think I went to sleep around half 3 this morning. I woke up for the first time at 8, then dozed on and off until 9.20am when I had to get L up. I got home at about 9.55am. I’ve spent the morning/afternoon in bed watching films (so far Show Me Love and Some Kind of Wonderful) and ate a huge takeaway. Also went for a quick goodbye lunch at McDonalds with a friend who’s leaving today. I’m really glad I saw him but was so glad it was brief, I found it exhausting.

Just caught a glimpse of W through a mutual friend’s Facebook pictures. They’ve gone to Amsterdam this weekend. Just seeing the back of his head in a picture made me feel like sobbing/barfing. It hasn’t hurt in a while but with a glimpse it all rushed back and hit me in the stomach. I don’t know what that means, if anything. I hastily avoided it.

I lay awake thinking last night. I regret not having written far more diaries or blogs in my life. I sat and read through some of my recent posts and saw so much of myself. I wish I’d cared enough about what I thought as I was growing up. Instead it’s all just a smoky blur of drug addled ignorance. But I was younger and sillier and so very, very unhappy. I hated my first degree, I hated where I lived, I hated dropping out of uni, I hated all my relationships, I hated my friends, I hated myself. I finally know I’m in the right place and doing the right thing, plus when I’m unhappy I know it’s because I’m unwell. Or at least I think it is. I don’t know if I’ve made myself this way. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’d just be nice to have a longer picture.

I feel really depressed today. I tortured myself in bed last night. I tried to lie there and take in the thick comfort of the duvet, listening to the fish tank bubble, but I just kept twitching with thoughts. I just don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m so tired I can’t think straight.

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Edgar Allen Poe-Faced

I didn’t fall asleep until at least 4am last night and woke at 11am today. I have felt a small swell of anger and anxiety pooling within me this evening, a barely there tension, but have felt a lot better since I came to work. Got incredibly frustrated and stressed while trying to organise my banking and finances (to the point where I was quite vicious with my dad on the phone – he does have a habit of overcomplicating things – but he was very understanding as he hates call centres too) and was at points incandescent with rage. It turns out that I’d made an error with an account number so my rent didn’t get paid but I’ve sorted it now, after much wailing and gnashing of teeth. It just took me rather a long time to come down.

Coming to work has been a real pleasure. I really like L and spending time at her home tonight has been dead nice. We’ve just quietly floated around each other, me assisting where necessary, but we shared a really nice moment as we flicked through her support plan together. Despite only meeting her briefly the other day we seem to have clicked and I’m pleased about that, even though I’m none too enthusiastic about the sleep shift itself. I just hope that all continues to go well and I do eventually get some sleep, though I doubt it’ll be L’s fault if I don’t.

I tried to have a small workout but it left me feeling a bit cranky and heavy. I didn’t have any trazodone last night and I’m going to try not to tonight, though I’ve brought it in case it gets to the wee hours and I really need some help getting drowsy. It’s not so much the nights that bother me but I know when I get up I’m going to feel rough. I can’t afford to nap after work.

I contacted someone after a silent week. After indulging a great many fantasies during last night’s sleepless ague I forgot how impenetrable he can be, particularly over Facebook. Small talk, nay talking in any form, is not his forte. Not sure how to play it. Going to take a bigger needle to get blood from this stone. Still, it’s all just an amusing fancy and something to do. Chasing boys is just another interest or hobby, a diversion from the unending tedium of existence which creeps its fingers up my back and around my throat. Not that I’m feeling morbid or anything. Just a bit of grumpy, gothic joie-de-vivre.

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I crashed my bandicoot.

I’m pissed off. Not least because I’m in the midst of a pretty bad mixed episode but because my Gamecube just crashed and took all my rad Crash Bandicoot data with it. I set up the Gamecube in a twitchy state in order to try and cope with the yawning chasm of the night. I’m cheerful for now, techno-grievances aside, but the past couple of days have been rather rocky.

On Tuesday night/Wednesday morning I went to sleep at 5am. I cried because I couldn’t figure out what to do with my washing and panic cleaned the house. I didn’t go to Spanish and wandered aimlessly round Tesco, picking things up and putting them down, looking like a mad old bat. I ran away back home to the safety of my mum and dad’s. I’ve been feverish, focused but distractable with busy hands. W took me for apple crumble in Wetherspoon’s and I swung through about six or seven different states in the hour and a half we were there.

In the past couple of days I’ve been through more cycles than Lance Armstrong on steroids. I’m like a washing machine who’s not only swallowed all your socks but decided to shred the remainder of the load and turn it into an artful collage representing aggression. I’ve been tearful, I’ve been buzzy, I’ve been too fast, I’ve been bombarded by memories and intense dreams. I’ve found thoughts physically painful as I churn and churn on pump and spin. Last night I managed to sleep at about 4am so I’m hoping that if I’m good I might even be able to make bedtime at 3.30am.

I’ve finally heard back from the mental health team and should have an appointment in 2-3 weeks. Until then, it’s onwards I go, smashing boxes and eating the apples that life throws at me as I try and make profound analogies using a video game about marsupials. Ripper.

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