I have not written in over a week in a desperate attempt to avoid the backlighting of my screen from keeping me awake – yes! I am still not sleeping well. I am well past caring about the quality of my sleep and now am concerned about the creeping anxiety into my nighttime slumber. I count the hours forwards, I count them backwards. I need desperately to sleep.
I am trying to pretend that anxiety is not back in my life and that each day is not an enormous struggle to make it to its end of which I retire into my box and cry silent tears.
Meds are just not working. Pretending is just not working. I am afraid that someone from work will find out that I suffer with EVERYTHING! depression, anxiety, insomnia, panic attacks, mind judders…. the overwhelming inability to function normally or stop the tears or blackness from covering me, swallowing me up, the world unnoticed from under its blanket. Thoughts caught in the mind spaghetti of confusion.
I try hot milk before bed. Sometimes I will try just about anything to experience that floaty fall into a whimsical dreamy sleep. Is this the illusion, is this a hallucination? or is it simply the same shoved down suppression that will never be suppressed? Is it just because no one loves me, or that there will never be a sleeping baby beside me, nor my sleeping babe who holds me and the sleeping baby?
Hot milk before bed. Hot milk that is unsoothing, unhelpful and an unlikely trigger.
I cry myself to unsleep.