It has recently been pointed out to me that for the past few years my journal has consisted largely of \”I can\’t sleep and it\’s driving me crazy\” entries. Having recently started to organize my computer journal habits from the years 1998-2001 (pre-Livejournal), I can safely say that this has been the number one topic discussed (with sex coming in a close second) for the past seven years.
Well, it is now 7:21am in the morning. I crawled into bed a little after midnight last night. Took a bunch of painkillers and Sonata before doing so. Nodded off a little after 1:30. Was wide awake by 5. And guess what? I can\’t get back to sleep. Can\’t sleep, can\’t sleep, can\’t bloody well sleep.
The morning sun is strong and beating hot onto my back. My boyfriend is in bed, catching his usual 8-10 hours, snoring away and completely oblivious to the fact that I haven\’t been in the bed for over three hours. Well, that\’s not entirely accurate. Within five minutes of me leaving the bed, his sleeping body subconciously picks up on my abscence and thereby deems the whole of the bed to thereafter be fair territory for his six foot frame to stretch out diagonally upon. I can\’t fault him for this as I prefer to sleep diagonally, too. I also prefer to have my own bed in a room that is only about 60Â° F and is completely and utterly dark. But no. Here in Oz, the sun starts its blazing, skin cancer causing burning at 5am, and of course, all of our rooms have windows and they all point toward the horizon.
When it\’s cold, I wish it was hotter. When it\’s hot, I wish it was colder. The happy medium is impossible to have and to hold. It does not exist in the long term. I\’m only happy when asleep or with my nose buried in a good book, oblivious to the world around me. The doctor boyfriend says I still have far too many social phobic tendencies to be happy. A little from column A, a little from column B, a whole lot of psychobabble, but none of it helps me sleep or to settle in my own skin when I\’m awake.
I miss summer-long hypomanic episodes the way an alcoholic misses the bottle. But you know what? Summer is already over here. I picked up at the end of winter (the end of four months of depression) to drop myself straight into the beginning of autumn (the beginning of four months of depression). Something I completely forgot to take into account when moving to another hemisphere was seasonal affective mood changes. Idiocy, pure idiocy. Why does no one point these things out to me?
I still can\’t sleep, by the way.