No Trouble Sleeping
I don’t miss it. I honestly don’t. I don’t know what to tell these people. Sometimes I can see how it would be easier to just give in and tell them what they want to hear. But I don’t need Prozac. I don’t need a therapist or so many drugs I have to alphabetize and cross reference before I can remember which I’m meant to take on that particular day of the week. And I’m not in denial. I’m not even sure what I could be in denial about.
I’ve been having trouble staying awake recently. Trouble waking up in the mornings, trouble staying awake once I am awake, and trouble keeping awake after that. If I rest for too long, or eat too much so I feel satisfied and comfortable then suddenly I’ll be knocked out. For someone who’s always had problems getting to sleep this whole situation is slightly surreal. So I saw a doctor, had the requisite blood tests, and booked myself in with a psychologist to rule out any psychological reasons I might be feeling permanently fatigued.
I’ve never had any problems with shrinks; in most circumstances I’m sure they’re useful. My mom needed one, I was more than happy to accept that. But I’m not crazy. I know what it’s like to be crazy, I’ve seen it up close and personal, and okay, I’ll accept that everybody has something wrong with them; no one can be completely whole. But I know what my problems are.
I have abandonment issues, I hate being alone, I’m stubborn, shallow, and I have so many different mood swings even I can’t keep up. I don’t let people see the real me for a long time after knowing them, and even then generally I just keep up a façade because it’s easier. And yes, the reason I didn’t like talking to her was because she kept on asking me questions about me which I object to because honestly, I just don’t like talking about myself unless I’m feeling in a particularly introspective and open mood. And even then, I’m disinclined to fess up to strangers.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I wish I could concentrate on staying awake as my whole life seems to be falling apart at times and the constantly being unconscious is hardly making it easier to keep appointments. I’m getting threatened by our previous landlord even though we’ve finally escaped the hell hole, and I’m pretty sure my lecturers are right now torn between convincing me not to drop out and kicking me out themselves. I’ve got more holes in me than a pin cushion from all the blood being taken and I’ve had enough. I had to go eighteen hours without eating the other day. I’m not fat, clinically I’m underweight I’m that naturally skinny so I’ve never had to diet in my life before. This whole going without eating when I’ve never before had cause to cut back was awful, within an hour and a half I was clawing at the walls trying to stop myself from opening up a packet of crisps.
I’ve had enough. My mother left fifteen years ago. I’m not suddenly reliving the experience, nothing has happened that could trigger that same feeling of loss. So I’m grouchy and sleep a lot, I’m getting tested for diabetes and everyone’s on my back. I’m scared about getting kicked out of uni and having to work in a supermarket for the rest of my life, I’m not in denial about my mother leaving, I’ve long come to accept that, I’m just irritable that the shit has hit the fan and that doesn’t make me a head case that just makes me normal.
I’ve been having trouble staying awake recently. Trouble waking up in the mornings, trouble staying awake once I am awake, and trouble keeping awake after that. If I rest for too long, or eat too much so I feel satisfied and comfortable then suddenly I’ll be knocked out. For someone who’s always had problems getting to sleep this whole situation is slightly surreal. So I saw a doctor, had the requisite blood tests, and booked myself in with a psychologist to rule out any psychological reasons I might be feeling permanently fatigued.
I’ve never had any problems with shrinks; in most circumstances I’m sure they’re useful. My mom needed one, I was more than happy to accept that. But I’m not crazy. I know what it’s like to be crazy, I’ve seen it up close and personal, and okay, I’ll accept that everybody has something wrong with them; no one can be completely whole. But I know what my problems are.
I have abandonment issues, I hate being alone, I’m stubborn, shallow, and I have so many different mood swings even I can’t keep up. I don’t let people see the real me for a long time after knowing them, and even then generally I just keep up a façade because it’s easier. And yes, the reason I didn’t like talking to her was because she kept on asking me questions about me which I object to because honestly, I just don’t like talking about myself unless I’m feeling in a particularly introspective and open mood. And even then, I’m disinclined to fess up to strangers.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I wish I could concentrate on staying awake as my whole life seems to be falling apart at times and the constantly being unconscious is hardly making it easier to keep appointments. I’m getting threatened by our previous landlord even though we’ve finally escaped the hell hole, and I’m pretty sure my lecturers are right now torn between convincing me not to drop out and kicking me out themselves. I’ve got more holes in me than a pin cushion from all the blood being taken and I’ve had enough. I had to go eighteen hours without eating the other day. I’m not fat, clinically I’m underweight I’m that naturally skinny so I’ve never had to diet in my life before. This whole going without eating when I’ve never before had cause to cut back was awful, within an hour and a half I was clawing at the walls trying to stop myself from opening up a packet of crisps.
I’ve had enough. My mother left fifteen years ago. I’m not suddenly reliving the experience, nothing has happened that could trigger that same feeling of loss. So I’m grouchy and sleep a lot, I’m getting tested for diabetes and everyone’s on my back. I’m scared about getting kicked out of uni and having to work in a supermarket for the rest of my life, I’m not in denial about my mother leaving, I’ve long come to accept that, I’m just irritable that the shit has hit the fan and that doesn’t make me a head case that just makes me normal.
Labels: Demons
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