Category Archives: sleep

Days later, the pain continues …

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I was once asked by a yoga teacher what freedom would look like for me. It was an easy answer. Sleep, restful, nonscary sleep would be such sweet freedom.

And, in this moment, I would also choose to stop shaking. I’ve been shaking off and on all day today. I talked about the Freddy Bear post today in therapy. I still cry when I read it. Out of all of my posts, it’s the only one that makes me cry again and again and again. I had no idea that I even had any pain or loss around Freddy. Up until I wrote about him, if you had asked me about him I would have described him as my youngest brother with whom I am not very close. Period. I would not have thought about it any further than that.

I would like to write further, but this is too hard for me right now, so I’ll sign off for now.

Not the couch again …

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Last night I may have bit off more than I could chew. My letter to Freddy Bear kicked my ass. I am surprised that this was the hardest piece thus far for me to write. I just started crying in the middle of it. Then I just slept on the couch. The couch is where I sleep when I am not doing well. My couch is very close to my front door, and my hyper vigilance kicked in, which meant that I would be catching zzz’s on that red couch.

Writing that piece broke a dam in me that I didn’t even know existed. I have to get it together because I have two papers due tomorrow in two graduate courses. Bad timing!

I did a whole bunch of things to try to feel better today:

  • I went to my favorite diner for Eggs Benedict,
  • Walked through Petsmart to see dogs,
  • Sat in the Barnes and Noble cafe and read dog magazines, and
  • I ate watermelon for dessert.

Still, though, I think I’m going to be sleeping on the couch again tonight.

sleep monster

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Naruto Sleeping

The whirlwind of the daily fight begins and ends with sleep. I find my body simultaneously fearing and needing sleep at night. The nightmares come that bring me that floaty feeling in the morning. Paradoxically, the floaty feeling pins me to the bed. Trying to extricate myself from bed is a daily fight, a struggle. It’s like this heavy weighted blanket has been placed on me, and the harder I try to shake it the more persistent it becomes in staying on me, and keeping me in that bed. At night I don’t want to get in that bed, and in the morning I can’t get out of it. Can we reverse this please?

(Photo credit: lyk3_0n3_tym3)