Zombie.
November 15th, 2001 by Kevin
I feel like roadkill.I must have a new strain of insomnia which is resistant to all sleeping pills(hm, germ warfare?), because nothing is knocking me out. I have tried everything short of cattle tranquilizers for the past two days, and I don’t think I’ve slept more than 10 minutes at a stretch. It really, really, really starts to get to me after a while. I’m starting to get to that point where everything seems surreal. This morning I was pouring coffee and having some kind of Marijuana Moment. (Whoa, man, check out the steam. Far out.) This would be fine if not for the fact that I haven’t smoked marijuana since I was about 20.
I really can’t think of any good psychological or stress-related reason why I can’t sleep. There’s really no massive new issue rearing its ugly head - a lot of things aren’t exactly optimal right now, but they’ve been that way for a while.
I sat and wrote down everything I’m stressed out about to see if I could pinpoint a good, logical cause for this whole episode; and here’s what I came up with:
Things That Piss Me Off/Freak Me Out
- The fact that my brain is screwed and my body doesn’t work correctly. (Major stress factor, but nothing new.)
- The fact that my vision is not improving after treatments, which leads me to believe that it may not return, which would mean that I will never drive or work again. (Ack.)
- My mother. (Who sometimes makes me want to beat my head against a wall.)
- My son’s sporadic toilet habits. (This is new, but frankly it’s not bothering me THAT much. It’s more irritating than stressful. As long as the kid goes on the bowl by the time he’s in kindergarten, I’ll be satisfied. He can count to 50, add and subtract, and memorize any pop song on the market, so I know he’s certainly not learning deficient.)
- The fact that am paying three hundred dollars per month for a car that is sitting in my driveway, rotting. (D. is allegedly going to fix it, and therefore I have to wait until hell freezes over before I sell it. There’s also another story behind this which is not even worth getting into, but it involves my failure to register the car…)
- Other bills that I have neglected to pay since being on disability, such as the book club, Columbia House, several neuros, Express, the health club…basically everything I haven’t used in months that I don’t have money for. They’re starting to pile up a little.
- Aetna US Healthcare. I won’t even start…
- Terrorist attacks, which make my piddly problems seem reeeeeeeeally tiny.
- The three giant fucking trees in front of my house that shed 46 bags of leaves every fucking day. (See? Piddly problem. Although I have blisters like a bitch from raking.)
- Quitting smoking. (Today is Day 11!!! Woo Hoo!!)
- Obsessing about food/my weight/working out/insert self-absorbed issue here.
- Being engaged. This has been tricky for me. I’m happy most of the time, but at times I panic at the thought of being Mrs. D.
- Having no damn money. I have major security issues with money, and being broke has caused me a lot of stress. Go figure, right? Me and ten million other people living on disability. I just really miss being able to go into Borders and spend a hundred bucks. It was such a nice feeling to walk out of there with a big, heavy bag of brand-new books.
And that’s about it. A lot of stuff, to be sure, but nothing much is new. The bills and the car are fixable, eventually. The money issue is partially my own fault, because I know D. would give me money if I asked for it. I’m just too proud to ask.
Maybe my insomnia is just another fun little perk from the wild and wonderful world of the crunchy brain. I’ll have to ask my neuro on Monday.
I posted a poem on a critique site the other day, and it’s pretty fitting right about now:
Insomnia
I long to slip quietly into dreams like a graceful woman slips into a bath, or drift into oblivion like a rose-cheeked child. I want my pouted, piquant lips to gently part as I sigh in sleep’s sweet respite, pleasant and mild.
I sleep like a mythic monster - writhing back and forth like Medusa’s curls in all their evil will. Naked talons grasp and claw at the blankets, and my teeth grind like the stone of Sisyphus against a barren hill.
I grasp at peace to have it ripped from raw fingers by some unfeeling god. I cry for some kind beast to give me remedy. “Beauty in sleep is for the light-hearted and the young,” say the laughing spectres perched upon my canopy.
I see the chariots of dawn streak across the sky. I watch Icarus prepare for flight. The same foolish dreams of the winged young man will lead me to my bed again tonight.
That’s how I’m starting to feel when I lie in bed - foolish. Like, why am I wasting my time lying down when I know I’m not going to fall asleep? I could be cleaning the bathtub or something.
Maybe I’ll just get stark raving drunk tonight. That will put me out.
