Angsting. I don\’t know how many days I\’ve been without real sleep now. All my body knows is that it\’s very, very angry with me. My mind knows that I\’ve reached the ugly place where my body has broken down to the point where my brain has started producing the chemicals necessary for spiraling down into the rabbit hole of anxiety and mania. Snap, snap, clickety clack.
But no! So I spent the past three hours replying to modeling e-mails (New York, Pennsylvania, Seattle, Los Angeles… holy shit) and am astounded by the names I am seeing in my inbox. Can I live up to me? Only with sleep!
I check into the hospital for my sleep evaluation tonight (Tuesday). I have now been one week without my sleep medication, and everybody around me can tell. Welcome to hell. Around 6:30 Wednesday morning I find out if I can go home and take my Valium and sleep for two days, or if they\’ll want to evaluate my \”day alertness patterns\” as well. If so, that could take another three days to get approval from my insurance company, which means another three days without sleep. Then I might get to sit around a hospital room all day with sensors attached all over my body. Somehow, doing that during the day disturbs me far more than doing that at night.
\”Rest assured, I\’ll be resting soon,\” I say to everyone. I don\’t dare to fully believe it, because what if they say \”no more Valium for you\” and then take weeks before finding something that works for me? Shit, shit, shit. But it won\’t happen. Granted, I\’m immune to a drug that\’s equivocal to a horse tranquilizer, as well as almost every other human sedative so far being used in America, but dammit, they\’ll find something. They\’re doctors. They know their shit. I\’m not an anomaly. I\’ll be figured out soon.
In the meantime, my building anxiety, nervous tension, insomnia and the resolve to simplify in order to be more productive has caused me to drop about half of my friends list. If you were one of them, I kind of apologize, but not really. I only dropped the people who don\’t post their own entries, don\’t communicate with me via comments or in real life, or who\’s posts completely lose me with their lack of basis in human reality, circa 2003. And yeah, most of my lovely photo communities, too. No more vintage sex or urban decay for this girl; no, this girl has her own current sex and decay to worry about.
\”I don\’t know if it\’s the FMS or what, but your shit is half baked, girl. You can\’t even find parking.\” Yeah, well… I admit it. My shit is pretty damn half baked. I\’m trying to change that. Sleep would help.
