Drew asked me if publishing my post yesterday made me feel any better. I have to say…no. It didn’t. No offense. I thought that maybe it would have, but no such luck.
In fact, last night was especially bad. Since Belle’s was gone for most of last week, I really wanted to be with her. Just be with her. But kids have extracurricular activities and she has work and it just didn’t come together until later in the evening. Going to sleep, it was all good. We talked a little. She read the post. She asked a few questions then she turned away from me and I snuggled into her and nearly fell asleep. I can’t really sleep spooned into her, so I had to flip over and that kind of woke me up. Then I laid there and the pillow felt weird and the covers were too warm and I woke more and more until I was fully awake. It wasn’t especially late, but I could only feel sleep moving away from me.
There’s this state I want to get to when trying to fall asleep where my thoughts get all thready and start to curl into themselves. It’s hard to describe, but when that happens I know I’m heading towards sleep. When they don’t, I’m not. When they just kind of flow around and stay pretty linear. Then, in my current condition, they take a turn towards a topic that’s stressing me out or a scenario that’s unlikely but also very stressful and that makes my heart start to thump and that makes me even more awake and pushes sleep further down. Then there’s that moment. When I realize I’m not falling asleep and am unlikely to do so soon. Like a little switch flips inside me and I know I’ll be up for hours. Then that freaks me out on top of all the rest.
About an hour and half after first trying to sleep, I took a Unisom. Those usually work well, but my anxiety fought back. About two hours later, I was totally under the influence of the pill but not asleep. I was dizzy and felt weird. I was, indeed, very sleepy but totally unable to close the deal. That woke Belle up. Waking her up made me feel worse, though she did her best to comfort me. I felt so damned frustrated. And angry. Mad that I didn’t feel like I had control over myself and couldn’t pull my shit together. Mad that I wanted to sleep so badly but couldn’t. Mad at the whole fucked up enchilada of my emotions lately. I ended up crying hard. The kind where you don’t make much noise and can’t breath between jags. Not from sadness. From frustration and anger. From hating how I feel. The only upside is, it tired me out and I did fall asleep shortly afterward.
These issues are not new. If I think about it, I feel as though I’ve been dealing with elements of whatever this is for years. Slowly feeling motivation and confidence ebb away and being unable to complete tasks. Having ideas for things that would have energized me in the past now just demoralize me since I can’t seem to raise the energy to do them. Setting myself up for more pain by making commitments with the idea that it alone would force me to act when all it did was multiply the anxiety over being unable to do so by about 100. None of this is new. It’s just worse now than ever. It’s forced itself into nearly everything I do or think about.
In the comments to my last post, there were some who might have misunderstood my reticence around writing posts like this. It’s not that I think they shouldn’t be written, it’s that I have a particularly difficult time writing them about myself. There’s still a healthy-sized part of me convinced my issues are not “mental health” related and are more about just generally sucking at life. Also, with regard to Drew, clearly I’m not in the best place to be dealing with some of the complications that come from having a multifaceted relationship structure. It’s sometimes a challenge for me to engage with him, but that’s not his fault. It’s just where I am right now.
I don’t know what to expect from tomorrow’s visit to the shrink. I need to temper my expectations that anything can change in the short term. But, it’s a step. Steps are good.