Tag Archives: sleep

Yesterday feels like a faded dream. It was nice to be a silly teenager again for an evening, running around and being teased by boys. I’ve been feeling a bit desperate for some affection.

I saw a video blog with Dr Francesc Colom on the Bipolar Foundation website which talks about the importance of tracking what you think or do rather than how you feel. It allows you to build up data so you can spot the warning signs of an episode. Sleep changes are the big ones for me along with a desire to smoke (mini self-destruct button). Here is my day:

Today I slept in until about 9.30am. I first woke up some time between 6.30am and 7am after going to bed at around 2.30-3am, then I was in and out for a couple of hours. Had some intensely detailed dreams. I got up, didn’t shower or have breakfast (haven’t made any bread) but bought a flapjack and a bottle of water at uni. Had a dreadful lunch of sausage roll, chips and gravy which I didn’t really want or enjoy. Barely spoke to anyone all day, people remarked on how quiet I’ve been, and was relieved to get out at the end of the day. I got home, sat down for an hour, squeezed the shit out of my face (I really, really need to stop – the scars on my cheeks are embarrassing and I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t keep scratching my face up) and then forced myself to have a good workout. I did 15 minutes of circuits (using the 7 App on my iPhone – I lost the plot with my old routine because I was so knackered after placement, the commute ruined me) then 50 sit ups, about a minute of peddling on my back, 50 clams, 40 side-lying leg lifts, and 4 x 50 arm exercises with my 1.5kg weights. Stretched down then had a shower. While I feel physically better my head still feels quite cloudy and disastrous (I think I’m fat and ugly, I don’t know what I’m doing, everything I’ve ever tried to make happen has been a failure while every accident has been great proving that I’m incapable of steering my life in the direction I want, I’m jealous of everyone, I’ll never find love etc – though reading these thoughts written down makes them look patently ridiculous).

I’m going to make a salad, clean up the kitchen and then watch telly. Might ring my mum. She rang me back yesterday and I was in no fit state to talk to her. She said some of the wrong things (like that I should be careful how ill I say I am in case I get kicked off my course, what the fuck) so I felt it best to just leave it and talk to L instead.

My friend L from uni is coming to stay tomorrow with her friend J after a gig, I’d completely forgot and am somewhat dreading it. I’m also speaking at an event tomorrow for uni and have absolutely no idea what I’m going to say. It’s only a couple of minutes so I’m sure I can make something up. Still, free sandwiches.

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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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Life drawing: sexier than a bowl of fruit, cheaper than a lap dance.

Last night I went to a life drawing class and left behind any semblance of my working class roots. It was when they brought out the prosciutto and brie at the end that I knew that the area I grew up in is no longer a valid shield against my taste in hobbies and cured meats. I had a very nice time drawing an impossibly toned woman (all the while trying to ignore my Peep Show-esque thoughts about not spending too much time drawing her boobs so I didn’t look weird) and met some nice people including a former long- and triple-jumper who’d competed at the European championships (who now trains for the 400m sprint… and works at Holland and Barrett), an art teacher and a chap who’s just started his own clothing company. There was also a nurse who has agreed to be a contact if I want to do a placement on her ward which was really exciting. It was a bit wanky (the music was terrible and I was forced to listen to someone’s plans to cycle from Brittany to Northern Spain… it does sound fun though) but after my two free glasses of wine I had a jolly good time. I definitely need to get married or something eventually though – I don’t end up there post-40, single and on the brink of being a bit too drunk, as was one of the ladies. I got home around midnight, finished Eva Luna and then went to sleep some time after 2am without any trazodone. I’m nearly off it but it was mostly because I got more of it on to the worktop than into my oral syringe so just gave up.

Yesterday I slept well, though I haven’t been getting to sleep until at least 1.30am but usually later, and I spent the day in a tentatively good mood. We were doing all about Johari’s window (a grid showing what we know about ourselves, what others know about us, what others know that we don’t or don’t know about us and what nobody knows about us, including ourselves) and transactional analysis (where we adopt the ego states of the parent, adult or child depending on context and power relationships). It was very interesting and made me feel good to know that others perceive me as intelligent, trustworthy, honest, outspoken and confident as well as knowing that basic facts like I’m bipolar and live alone. The transactional analysis made me reflect on all my past relationships where I’ve probably acted like a parent (nurturing/supportive/controlling/critical) or child (playful/spontaneous/difficult/prone to tantrums) rather than an adult (non-threatening/non-threatened/respectful/logical). We adopt patterns we are comfortable with and behaviour programmed into us – see this video for more info. It’s all useful stuff to bear in mind when acting as a professional and in our personal life, allowing us to communicate effectively with people.

Last night I slept ok but I slept in until 11am and now feel thick-headed and morose. I’m not in a bad mood as such but I feel a bit tragic for no discernible reason. I think the lurid sexuality of my dreams (no doubt triggered by the book and last night’s nakedness) is bubbling away in my belly. I want to feel nails in my skin and breath in my ear but I also want to keep my woolly socks on and cry under my duvet. I have to go to work for a few hours later. Not exactly pleased but hopefully it’ll drag me out of myself a bit. I did a full workout yesterday which left me feeling really good.

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I’m bored. So bored. I didn’t feel bored at uni and I didn’t feel bored when my friend was round. I felt good when I exercised and managed to push myself further. I watched a boring film and am writing my boring blog. Boring boring boring. It could be a bad sign, that it has all been hypomania and now here comes the tick tick tick crash, or it could be that I live on my own in a small flat with no one to talk to and am desperate for company. I miss my parents – the chat in our house is generally belter. 

I wish I was clear cut crazy instead of just maybe a bit of something not quite sure perhaps. That’s not really true though. I just hope this isn’t the yawning, painful boredom that makes me think of suicide. I can become hopelessly bored by everything to the point where I want to kill myself. Maybe I’m just understimulated today. Xmas was busy and fun with lots of people, I’m a natural extrovert, so maybe it’s just dull real life again.

I think the thing my brother was getting at before is that I just don’t know what’s normal. Like, it’s probably normal to be bored when you live on your own and Xmas has finished. I get dramatic and make it pathological. He reckons it’s because our parents never told us off as kids – we got long guilt trips or ignored or made to feel like we weren’t loved anymore if we did something wrong. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m frustrated by not knowing – I’m not depressed about it but I’ve got too much time to think. Maybe I’m just being self-indulgent. I want visitors again. I was supposed to have a visit this week but it bottomed out. I’ve a trip to Scotland planned soon, booked on a whim, and I’m looking forward to it.

I’m knackered as well – I didn’t sleep very well last night (I think I was just too warm) and woke up a few times before my alarm. Perhaps it’s uni which disrupts my body clock, rather than me being dysfunctional, as it makes me get up at a time which doesn’t suit me and it’s not constant at the minute. Sometimes, after uni, I’m too tired to read or concentrate properly on TV or films. Maybe that’s normal. Fuck’s sake, man. Maybe I’m just normal and a bit of an idiot. I’ve been perky and cheerful today, went for a pint at lunch and then had a couple of beers with I this evening before he went to a party. Then I was bored. Maybe I just need people.

I wish I could go for a drive. The northern lights might be visible tonight. Christ, I wish I could go for a drive.

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“Don’t slam your door!”

I’ve regressed. I’ve gone from 8.30am every morning (well… 9am), shower, porridge and out the door back to my natural student state. The kitchen’s a bombsite and there’s lots of washing up to do. I’m falling asleep later and sleeping longer, barely rising until the afternoon, and have become addicted to a 90s sitcom. The entirety of 2point4 Children is on YouTube. I’ve been sucked into the black hole of UK Gold.

The first series is really good – obviously rather cliche but there’s some pithy lines and the acting’s commendable. There’s a lot of sex jokes and it seeks to poke misogyny in the eye in a charming sort of way, plus it’s interesting watching something where the characters are living through the last recession and Tory government. Also the daughter’s clothes are faaaabulous – I’m so glad the 90s are back in fashion – and the main character Bill reminds me of my mum back in the day. The second series (yes, I’ve burned through two series in 24 hours – how else do you think I got a BA in social science?) has gone far more… 90s. Suddenly we’re dealing with ‘ishyooz’. I’m on episode five and we’ve already had bulimia, denouncing graphic violence, a cringe-inducing supercrip wheelchair episode and there’s even an examination of sex tourism and global inequalities as Ben’s dad brings back Thai bride (not that it goes into too much depth and, of course, everything works out alright in the end). Still, I’m enjoying my nostalgia trip and it burns away the night as I wait for something proper to do.

It’s not all bad though. I have managed to do some uni work and I’ll be starting on the workbooks I’ve been given instead of going on placement. As soon as I’ve finished 2.4. There’s only 5 series left.

And the Xmas specials.

And the millennium one.

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You have another sleep, love; it’s me that needs it most.

Today I don’t have much to say. Syrupy tiredness sloshes stickily behind my eyeballs and my head hurts. I had good news earlier which sped me up, looking at publishing some academic work, but now I’m back to tuckered out. It’s been an afternoon/evening in bed, resisting the siren song of central heating (I’m a hypomanitee on a budget) and wheezing around the start of a cold. I’m still on my descent, I have to point it out otherwise I feel a fraud for not being quite mad enough, and my thoughts are becoming ever more disorganised. It’s not all doom and gloom though: I’ve spent my night with some heroes: Ian Dury, Michel Roux Jr and, of course, my mother. Alas, they were only on the telly and Ma on the phone otherwise it would have been one hell of a dinner party.

Make Love and Wake Up with Me

I want a cuddle and some sex
No S&M, no SFX
Then sleep just for an hour or four
And then wake up and have some more

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