Good god, am I sleepy.
And that’s after six hours of sleep.
This is the sort of thing that makes me reluctant to take my sleeping pill. I was about to go to bed and was not feeling super sleepy so I thought I had better take a trusty ol Trazadone before I got my forty winks.
And don’t get me wrong : getting that much sleep is great in the long run. I am sure I needed it. I am sure I got lots of that wonderful REM sleep.
But right now, it’s super annoying, because I am still really sleepy. It’s a struggle just to stay awake, let alone eat my lunch and make with the words.
Oh well, hopefully the Diet Coke I am drinking will work its caffienated magic and perk me up enough to make this easier.
Why does sleep have to be so god damned complicated?
Why is making decisions for myself so painful and scary?
Why is it so hard for me to face my problems and solve then? Why do I turn away and block them out of my mind instead?
I suppose it stated with being raped at the age of 4 and dealing with it the way many other victims of child rape do : by taking my mind away.
By telling myself that this isn’t happening, this isn’t real, and de-focusing my mind to turn everything into a vague blur in order to mentally distance myself from the sitation as much as I possibly could.
That set the pattern of withdrawal that has plagued me for my entire life. I don’t face all the things I don’t like and in theory could easily fix just like I haven’t faced what really happened to me on that day my life was ruined by a stranger’s cock.
All my life since then I have spent throwing myself into some form of media consumption (reading, TV, video games) in order to withdraw my mind from reality as much as I possibly could in order to escape my terrible reality.
And I am still doing it. I spend most of my time escaping by playing video games. Meanwhile, my many health problems go largely untreated, my room is a horror show due to total lack of cleaning, and I remain scared of reality.
So much for being a rugged truth warrior.
And I try to escape this frostbitten life of mine sometimes. I know there is a great heat and light within me that is struggling to make it to the surface of my mind so it can give me the emotional warmth and healing I so desperately need.
And yet, on another level, I cling to my icy cold cage.
Why? Because it’s familiar, I suppose.
And because I still use it to hide behind. For all I rail against the deadly hypothermia of the soul that cuts me off from the world and leaves me starving and miserable, I also enjoy the fact that it keeps me numb from my pain – a lot of which it also causes.
It’s really frigging complicated.
From that point of view, I won’t have my emotional spring until I stop using my numbness to shield myself from both reality and my inner pain.
From another point of view, it’s all about that deep freeze in which I keep all those frozen emotions that I have never dealt with.
With all that ice around, it’s no wonder I feel cold. And if I want to get better, I have to melt that shit down and thus reduce the burden of ice in my soul.
Luckily, that’s happening. Between the blogging and therapy, I am (very slowly) calving icebergs from the glacier that sits on my heart and letting them melt as they flow south.
And it’s not easy. I get a deep and terrible cold feeling in my heart as they ice leaves me. It honestly feels like I am regurgitating ice cubes sometimes.
But I keep it up because, over time, I can feel how with every ice cube I disgorge, ,my inner chill reduces and I get some of my mind back and can think – and cope – better.
It’s so fucking slow though.
Still really sleepy. Damn you caffeine. Work, dammit!
And damn you Trazadone. Why can’t sleeping pills let go once I am sound asleep?
But no, they never help me get to sleep. They just makes it harder to wake up.
I am having a hard time focusing, I will finish this later.
Got some more sleep. Feeling somewhat more awake now. Still wish I could sleep for another, oh, year, but I think I can at least finish my words now.
Been poindering self-control. I place an enormous burden of self-control on myself. And yet, my life is nothing like how I want it to be and I don’t do the things I should or, more importantly, the things I want to do, so how much control do I really have?
Clearly, something has gone drastically wrong.
I want to stop treating myself with such brutality. In fact, I want to get to a point where I am not constantly trying to force myself to do the things I want to do (and failing) and instead lead a more natural life, where my actions spring from my desires and not from some regime my stupefying superego is trying to impose on me to force me to be what it thinks I should be.
Because that shit does not work. In fact, it wrecks everything and gets the opposite result of the one intended.
Maybe that’s the idea. I don’t know.
As corny it is, the secret is self-forgiveness, and learning to love myself. Give up on trying to force a result and worry instead on healing and love and treating myself with the gentle love and warm compassion.
The problem is that forcing myself to do things is the only way I know to get things done. I fear that if I let go like that, I will just end up falling apart like I did with Skyrim and end up far worse off than under my current unfreinedly regime.
But that’s probably the depression talking. Maybe I would fall apart for a while buit maybe I woukld then pull myself together not via sheer force of will but based on my true desires and who I really am.
Maybe I should do things because I really want to do them.
It sounds so simple, but…..
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.,