Daily Archives: September 27, 2015

Lack of somnia

Posted on by
Reply

It is 4:21 in the morning, and I can’t sleep.

Took my sleep meds. Zero effect. Nothing. Tried to tire myself out with a low stimulation game. Dumb idea, no game is low stimulation enough to relax me more than itnbsp; stimulates me.

I lack the skills needed for slow, gentle, gradual relaxation. It is always a top speed crash into a brick wall. Actually, no. It’s always a top speed drive over the edge of a cliff into the void between the light of the mind and the deep and beautiful darkness of sleep.

No wonder I need drugs to sleep.

Admittedly, I have never tried writing as a way of getting my excess energies out so I can sleep before, or at least, not since high school. Maybe this will become a regular thing for me. Emptying the contents of my fevered mind onto the page in order to give me space to lie down, at least.

I get pretty poetic at this hour. Cool.

The theory is sound, at least. And I am glad that it is the not-sleepy kind of insomnia, not the sleepy-but-can’t-sleep kind. The latter is the sort of thing as like to make a man lose his senses and end up in Bedlam.

That sentence was fun to write.

I have not had the crazy making kind of insomnia for a long time, knock on metaphorical wood. Admittedly, this is mostly due to having very little to do and almost nothing requiring an alarm click, but still, I am grateful.

I had a terrible time with insomnia when I was a teen. I would lay there staring at the clock, compulsively calculating the ever-dwindling hours and minutes until I had to get up for school.

It took an embarrassingly long time for me to realize the clock was the problem.

Well, this seems to have done the trick. I have become quite sleepy. Part of me wants to keep blogging and see just how sleepy I can get, but I am fairly certain that line of reasoning is neither wise nor sane.

I will see you nice people again in the morning.

(—)

And I am back.

I have had a good long sleep, and yet, I still feel like napping. I don’t know whether this is a physiological need, or whether I am just experiencing some depression and it’s manifesting itself as bed-seeking.

I do know that something is a bit off with me lately. I feel like I am not getting back all the energy that I put out. I keep having these moments of screaming anxiety and tension. They are brief, but…. memorable.

Then again, maybe I am making too much of this. Maybe the real culprit is simply having nothing structure to do. My mood is usually pretty good on weekdays once I have been to class. This suggests that it is the activity (and maybe the fresh air and sunshine to and from) that keeps me buoyed up. Food for thought.

At some point this afternoon, I am going to go to the local postal outlet with Joe to pick up my birth certificate. Hopefully, this will be the last time I ever have to drag him along.

See, they won’t give you a delivery unless you have photo ID. I won’t have photo ID till I have the contents of said delivery. This would be a total catch-22, but luckily, someone whose photo ID lists the same address as the delivery can also pick it up, and that’s where Joe comes in.

It’s a good thing that I tracked the package. Silly me, I was thinking that because the “courier” was Canada Post, the package delivered would show up in our mailbox. But apparently, Canada Post is just like any other courier company, where they pretend they tried to deliver it then made you come pick it up.

The tracking info says they tried to deliver it on Thursday, but I don’t believe it. Julian was home most of the day on Thursday, so it’s not like nobody was here to sign for it. And I find it hard to believe that a package containing my birth certificate was too big to fit into our mailbox.

The tracking info even said they had left a card telling us where to pick it up. Bull shit they did. As you can imagine, I was monitoring our mailbox, and there was no card.

So yeah. If I hadn’t entered the tracking number into the Canada Post website to see WTF is going on, I would be still waiting for the damned thing.

Once I have the birth certificate, I can get photo ID, and I can get my student loan, and so forth and so on. Once I have all that taken care of, a huge burden will be shifted off my shoulder and that will go a long way towards helping me relax and focus on my education and not be so tense.

While out and about, I will also need to stop in at Money Mart and put some more money on my card. I totally forgot to put money to pay my bills on there when I cashed my cheque, and it’s that time of year when I have to pay for my domain so the bills are a skootch higher than usual, and honestly I am just glad I have a website to type into today.

Usually when this happens, they cut me off, and I can’t access my blog till I pay up. And that sucks.

Anyhow, when I am done here, I will go see what Joe is up to, and get the show on the road. Hopefully, that will wake me up enough to let me resist the urge to crawl under the covers and hibernate.

Plus I still have a video to do. It never ends, really.

If I worked any harder, I’d practically be employed!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Some working title

Posted on by
Reply

You know, I am going to miss you guys when the pills kick in.

I am serious. You all have been the best bunch of hallucinations a fella could ask for, and that’s not just the Xanax talking. I know we’ve had our differences in the past and our relationship has always been…. complicated… but I just want to let you all know that, all in all, I could not have asked for a better group of delusional manifestations of my tortured psyche trying to make sense of the world despite a head full of bad wiring and emotional trauma.

And I mean it!

Yes, I am talking about you, Inside Out Face. Sure, you’ve scared the hell out of me since I was a little girl. Heck, you’re the reason I ended up in this mental hospital in the first place. I was doing a great job of pretending to be sane before you started appearing and trying to eat my head.

Despite my best efforts, I could not control my screaming. And there’s only so many times you can say “acid flashback” or “I swear I saw a spider” before your co-workers at Chipotle begin to get suspicious.

Not to mention the customers. Yikes.

But I am perfectly happy to let bygones be bygones. It’s nice here at Greenhaven. And truth be told, there was times when I wanted you to show up and give me a fright so I had an excuse to go home for the day.

After all, that’s where you live, Amorous Italian Rhinoceros.

I guess I can admit it now… you’ve always been my favorite. Your charm, your wit, your generous affection, the stylish way you paint your hooves… you are everything I have ever wanted in a mammal. Whenever I skip my meds, it’s you I am thinking of. I would face a whole army of Inside Out Faces and Poop Popes and even Molester Moles if it meant I got to spend another minute in your strong, rough-skinned embrace.

Doctor Finkelman says that makes your my most dangerous delusion of all, and I suppose he’s right. After all, you are the reason I held up that bank. I could never say no to that sad yet dignified look in your eyes. When you told me that you needed fifty thousand dollars to keep the Space Ark from crashing into the sun, that’s all I needed to hear.

Now, even with the reduced sentence, there’s very little chance of us getting out of Greenhaven any time soon. But you know I can’t stay mad at you. Not for long. And you know it, you handsome old rogue you. No matter how many times you get me into trouble, I will always come back to you in the end. I just can’t stay away, no matter how many times you trick me into taking off all my clothes in public.

Doctor Finkelman also calls our relationship bestiality, but that’s just silly. After all, you can talk!

And speaking of nudity, don’t think I have forgotten you, Naked Dickensian Waif. Sometimes you are a girl and sometimes you are a boy, but you have always been my friend. As long as you were around, I didn’t feel so bad about myself. Without the need to constantly bathe you (you’re such a dirty little ragamuffin, always getting into trouble!), I would have gone crazy.

Well, crazier. Whatever. You know what I mean.

I don’t see why Doctor Finkelman gets so upset when I talk about you. Apart from that one time where I tried to make that boy I stole into you, my relationship with you has always been as normal and healthy as it could be.

After all, everyone loves a good bath, right? So why put clothes on you? With how dirty you tend to get, putting clothes on you would just mean having to bathe you AND do your laundry. Much easier to just let you run around naked.

Besides, little kids don’t need clothes because they don’t have anything to hide yet. Uncle Donny taught us that!

Oh dear, I feel the medication starting to kick in, and I have so many more of you to thank. Already you are all getting a little blurry. I’d better pick up the pace.

I will always have a soft spot in my heart for you, Man Made Of Penises. I could never understand what you were saying, and you always smelled weird, but Doctor Finkelman said you did a really good job of representing my deep struggle against the world of men and maleness, and that I should be grateful my subconscious chose such an obvious manifestation and that you were super keen and lovely and wonderful.

Or something like that.

Um, um…. oh, Kissing Flower! Doctor Finkelman called you obvious too, but he didn’t seem happy about it. I don’t know what his problem is. I always loved how you would kiss me all over. I don’t know why Doctor Finkelman is so obsessed with finding out “who you really are”.

Maybe he just doesn’t like flowers.

Oh, and of course I can’t forget (at least till these meds kick in all the way) you, Ghost of Jesus. Whenever life truly had me down and not even pictures of dying clowns could cheer me up, you were always there to put your arms around my shoulders and make fun of my vagina.

You have no idea how much that meant to me.

Well, I guess this is it. You are all just grey blurs to me now, and soon, I will be back in reality for the first time since I was a little girl with “troubling” imaginary friends.

I had so much more to say, but for some reason, I can’t remember any of it now. I guess all I can say is… thanks for the company, folks. I guess I will never see you again.

In fact, the whole thing is starting to seem a little weird.