Tag: sleep

Wanting to Walk Away

I had to go to Urgent Care last week, where their solution was to charge me $200, for a 2-minute consultation with a doctor telling me my symptoms were just a little bit of anxiety (which I was upfront about on the questionnaire anyways) and to take this pill. Oh and have a note for the next day for work as well. The pill is a damn sedative. I can’t function with it, so I can’t take it. The doctor also recommended I go to one of the local Mental Health clinics, that caters to those with “my kinds of problems” to get help. Except there’s actually a problem with that. They’re open during the hours I work. So because I’m still trying to work so I can at least look like a productive member of society I can’t get any kind of help. Because by the time my days off come around, it’s the end of the week and there’s generally not anything available.

On top of those fun issues, it feels like I’ve had a couple of cysts on my ovaries burst. There’s nothing they could do for it even if I were to have gone to a doctor but it’s still pretty painful to deal with on its own. That also doesn’t count in the light-sensitive migraine I’ve had for I don’t know how many days, but I’ve only said something about the last two. To be honest that’s the worst part of all of it. Because I’ve been getting more migraines it means I will ultimately have to change my birth control (aka the one medicine that I’m on that I willingly continue to get because I know my life without it is short and even more painful than it already is.) I’m not looking forward to any of it, but at the same time, something has to give at some point soon.

I want to be positive. I want to get back into baking, cooking, sewing, and coding and just not being a miserable pile of flesh… I’ve come up with recipes I want to try to perfect, I want to have that joy of just creating. But I can’t do that if I work my 40+ hours, take care of the basic things that need to be done and actually do my share of things around the house.

Hence, why sometimes when things get to be too much, I just want to walk away from everything. Leave my life, my friends, my family, my history and my problems, and just ignore it all. I know it’s not a smart choice, but on nights like tonight, it feels like the only one. But instead of doing that, I’ll go take some more medicine that doesn’t help a lot, try to sleep and get up and fight my way through the pain no matter what tomorrow. Because I have to suck it up and deal with it, regardless of how I actually feel.

Here’s hoping sleep comes quickly, and the pain fades just a little.

 

“Just because
you feel lost
doesn’t mean
that you are.
Sometimes you
just have to relax,
breathe deep,
and trust the path
you’re on.”
― Lalah Delia

Lack of Sleep

I haven’t had a lot of sleep the last couple of days. Not that it’s anything unusual. I do my best to try and get at least 5-6 hours but it’s often broken and leaves me tired and fatigued more than what my other health issues already do. 

Which brings me to my second issue. I’ve talked to my mom last night and today some. She’s trying to guilt me into going earlier there, regardless of what I want or need to do around here. On top of that, I’m supposed to care and actively ask about her problems and issues. I just get told to suck up my anxiety and problems and deal with whatever the issue is. Which is something I try to do. But my anxiety is getting more invasive and overwhelming. My depression is the same. I can do things to hold it at bay, but after a while, things start getting worse.

Yes, there’s a medication I’m supposed to be on for it. I hate how it makes me feel, or better yet the lack of things I feel. I feel nothing when I take it consistently. I feel no happiness, no sadness, no anger, no frustration, no good no bad. I just exist, and at its core, that seems like a fantastic thing. However, that’s what has led me to cut in the past. I have made great strides in not cutting, and haven’t in over a year. But there are times I have that urge still. 

Anyways, today was not as productive as I would have liked. But at least I’ve ate, napped a little and done a little organizing. Considering the way I’m feeling all the way around today, I still count it as a mostly successful day. Tomorrow I’m hoping to paint some walls and hopefully will get some better sleep tonight. 

More Anxiety Dreams

These dreams keep coming back…only they’re starting to get worse. I’m almost always afraid to go to sleep because I know the dreams will happen. Nothing I’ve tried has helped to drive it away. Calming teas, meditation, even staying up so I’m so exhausted…none of it has worked so far.

Dreams have morphed a little from last time I wrote about them. There’s still no ending to them. There’s just a lot more confusion. A lot more being lost in caves. More conversation too, but I never remember what was talked about. I can remember the scenery, the time of day, the way dream me felt but not the important thing. It’s disheartening.

I’ve only been getting an hour or two at a time of sleep. I wake up confused and afraid. I can’t catch my breath sometimes afterwards. I know my subconscious is trying to tell me something, I just don’t know what the hell that is.

So I sit here awake, into the early morning hours. Watching and waiting as the world passes me by. Waiting for sleep to take control and the nightmares to come. I just want a few days of reprieve. Just to get a solid 4 hours of sleep without being startled awake before this drives me crazy.

Kindness is one of the few gifts anyone can give without ever having to struggle to repay. It’s something we should all be giving a little more freely in times like these.

~T

Anxiety and Battling My Dreams

My anxiety has been astronomically high lately. I’m on edge about jobs, living spaces, the future, the past, and everything in between. My familial tremors in my arms have been worse the last few days than they have been in quite a while. They are almost at the rate/duration when I was diagnosed with them. Are they related to my anxiety/depression/stress? No idea- my neurologist at the time said to just have a drink when one started, and that should take care of it. My family is full of functional and not so functional alcoholics. My grandparents owned a bar at one point, one of my uncles ultimately died from his drinking. That’s not advice a doctor should give so lightly. So I just deal with them as they come. It only slows down my typing, makes it hard to chop/cut things up at times but otherwise, it’s just a nuisance. But it makes me self-conscious. I still don’t want to be the freak who can’t always control my limbs.

So as I get ready to start a lot of new things, I know I can’t hide it forever. I know coworkers will see and ask questions. That brings a whole new level of anxiety. I don’t like being the center of attention or put on the spot about something that’s happening to me. That anxiety creeps into everything. Is moving really such a good idea? Are you sure that this is the area you want to be in for a little while? You claim to want stable but have you looked at yourself in the mirror- the only thing stable about yourself is the weight you are and the predictability of the fact you’re going to get hurt again one way or the other.

I try to keep myself together and strong for the people around me. But the mask is slipping. I don’t know how much longer I can be like this. I’ll keep trying until it either weighs me down to where I can’t do it anymore or until the chaos passes and things get better.

I keep dreaming that I’m falling into a dark, wet pit. In that pit is a monster I can’t see. I only hear it.  It occasionally whispers menacingly at me in a language I don’t understand but from the tone, it makes me scared. I yell for help, hoping someone will walk by and hear my pleas, clawing at the dirt and root bound walls.  I scream until my throat is raw, and no sounds come out. Suddenly, there’s the sound of something being dragged through the muck and water, before something tosses the large rectangular box at my feet. 

The creature snarls, “get in the box” before kicking the lid off at me. I find a renewal of my voice and scream some more as the muddy water splashes onto me, covering me in more filth. The creature sighs, “Why do the pretty one’s struggle?”

My vision goes black, and I wake up panicked in the box. I beat on it with my fists, and kick with my feet. It doesn’t budge. The thuds of my arms and legs making contact are the only sounds I hear. The top end of the box lifts slightly, as I began to get drug through this hell to god knows where.  I know there’s no airflow into the box, so if I can’t get out soon I’ll just be dying one way or the other. I try to calm myself, without taking deep breaths. I don’t know how long I’m being dragged through this place. It seems to go on and on. And that part of my dream just goes and never seems to end. 

 

Now I have no idea what to make of my dreams, let alone the other things my brain throws at me. All I know is if I go the rest of my life without having that dream again, it’ll be too soon. The only problem with that thought? I’ve had it the last 4 nights in a row.

Maybe tonight’s dreams will be better. And if they aren’t there’s always some kind of hope out there right?

~T