About a week ago, I was beginning to get worried. It had started out as a slight case of heartache, followed by the inevitable crash in appetite and a small number of not-quite-slept-through nights. Then I had begun to feel better, and yet, I was still not sleeping. Even when I went to bed exhausted, I would wake up in the middle of the night, or at least well before my wakeup time, and that was it. For one or two days, I would get tired towards the middle of the afternoon, but as soon as I went to bed at night, it was as if someone had switched on a light in my head, preventing me from being sleepy where I really needed it.
Then I noticed that although I thought I wasn’t getting any rest, I didn’t feel bad. I still wasn’t eating much, but I had lost the anxiety and no longer got tired until late at night. I continued waking up at odd hours but had plenty of energy.
Last night, I slept. And it was the worst night I’ve had this year. At a reasonable time, I turned off my tv without having fallen asleep on the futon once. I got ready for bed, put the guinea pig away, and climbed under the covers to read a bit. As soon as I turned off the reading lamp, I was overcome by a horrific bout of something. I ended up crying desperately for perhaps five or ten minutes, desperate both to get this out of my system and because I really didn’t know what had brought it on. After that, I slept until only a short while before the alarm went off.
And oddly enough, this night is turning out to have been a major setback. I’m sleepy, unconcentrated, anxious, hungry but unable to eat, and entirely unmotivated. No matter where I look into my plans for the future, I see no silver lining. On top of all that, I just realized it’s only two o’clock in the afternoon. I’ve been here since eleven.
I truly wish someone had all the answers. I could use a few right about now.