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The Centre of the Wheel
I am the main character
I’m not sleeping. Oh, i could sleep, but i fight it. I hate my bed, see, and i can’t seem to make myself go there. I sit up and consume empty content on the socials, fighting the urge to snack (which i lose regularly). The medication i’m on makes me nod off, hard, but i pull my head back up, over and over. The dreams are bad — laying in bed is worse.
Each morning i feel like garbage. Physically, my body lets me know it’s sleep-starved: numb, buzzy limbs, fibro screaming, brain feeling like a chunk of cement tumbling about inside a brittle skull. My mood is trash, too. Guilt that i didn’t force myself to trundle off to bed. Dismay at starting the day off so poorly. Anger at my system for fighting bedtime. I’m ashamed that i didn’t accomplish all i wanted to yesterday, and anxious that it will happen again.
But i’m trying so hard, i really am. And then i wonder if i “really” am. Can i trust myself? Am i being realistic?
I feel trapped and stuck, and i’m so frustrated i could chew through an old tire.
I tell my therapist. She struggles with sleep issues too, and i know she’d never tell me to push myself to go to bed. If i don’t want to do a thing, in her world then i almost certainly shouldn’t. True to form, she suggests i…
