Tag Archives: sleep

48 hours

I’ve been awake for 48 hours. My body is wreaked but my mind is racing. Thoughts of home and family.

I’ve taken two ambien with no effect.

Arggggg

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100th post

I feel that there should be something significant here because I have now blogged 100 posts of the minutia of my life. How incredible boring it most be to read. I whine about my life, my depression and hopelessness. None of those have left me. In fact I felt close to taking drastic measures to relieve my situation. Wasn’t thinking of killing myself but I was thinking of hurting myself – traffic accident, drug overdose, crazy acting but I didn’t. I stayed sensible and relatively sane. I thought about cutting my skin open too but there is always the risk of infection and it is so much more likely in Hell than in the civilised parts of the globe.

I suffer from self-awareness. I know and recognise the likely consequences of suicide, cutting, reckless behaviour or drugs. I know that this state cannot last forever. My loneliness will not be eternal. At some point I’ll be able to sleep and to wake up. Weird to have insomnia and hypersomnia at the same time. As the old chestnut goes “this too shall pass”.

I want it fucking past already. I hate feeling like shit. My mind is either sluggish and I mix up my words or it is racing and I’m composing letters, books and retorts – unable to sleep.

Nothing has changed. I am still the actress who is fake happy in the real world. No one wants to hang around with a person with severe clinical depression after the initial “can I get you anything” and “you poor thing”. I spent the weekend alone. I called my family and friends back home and told them everything was fine. I lied because I can’t tell them the truth. Lying is so much easier. Truth is painful, not just to me but to all. I’ve learned to stfu about my pain.

Except in this space. This is my screaming into the void space. Ironic really because I live in a void – no changes, eternal pain of heat and sweat and mocking voices on every breeze. I have nightmares about tsunami. I am a mess.

I dream of drowning

I dream of drowning.
I dream of water.
The waves wash over me, soothing me, tempting me
And then I panic

I struggle against the current, against the tide,
But inexorably the water nudges and cajoles me out
The sea takes me out, out beyond the land, the sand, the earth
Then crashes
Violently back to land
Drowning the shiny happy people basking in the sunlight.

I am complicit. I am guilt
Because I dreamt of drowning

There. Some random crappy poetry for my 100th post. Maybe if I write it down the nightmares will stop. Maybe that is the solution. Who the fuck knows? Who the fuck cares?

Fucking doctors

I know that in a lot of ways I am very privileged to have access to insurance and everything but I gotta rant for a bit because I’m going even crazier and I don’t know what to do.

My shrink texted me for an appointment when I got back from holidays and I replied with yes please. No reply for five days. So I text her again and she can only fit me in but only during my working hours.

Luckily I’ve got a very decent boss who gives me the time off and who found me alternative work to be doing. My work is very triggering. I deal with rape, murder, genocide and child abuse, some of which includes graphic photos of dead people. Work led to PTS which led to depression.

I confirm the appointment with that bloody shrink and she writes me back saying that she heard that my insurance pays $1000 for headshrinking and now she’ll going to charge me over double what I already pay. The truth is that my insurance will repay me up to $1000 a year. I’ve already “spent” over $1000 on therapy in the past three months. Insurance takes over five months to repay and then I’m screwed on the exchange rate $ to €. I’m a frakking volunteer. I get paid enough to live on just about.

Now I have to decide whether it’s worth paying out of pocket and try and explain the situation. Even if she keeps charging me the regular amount, it is a serious drain on my income. I feel like she is taking advantage of me. I’m fucked up and living in a fucked up country and she has a monopoly on head shrinking.

The therapy is good, mostly, but her answer to everything is to keep jacking up my Zoloft and to pass my insomnia issues along to the prescribing doctor.

That fucking doctor is getting on my tits as well. Not only does he believe that he knows more about me than I do but he keeps pushing WLS on me even knowing that my fatness in caused, in part by PCOS. I had a polite rant to him a few weeks ago and now he just writes me prescriptions. I just need the scrips to get refunded from my insurance cos I can get all my drugs over the counter. In fact I was so angry with him that I just kept buying Zoloft and didn’t go near his office for months.

When he was writing my latest scrip for Ambien, he prescribed too low a dose and proceeded to lecture me on possible addiction. I asked him for the millionth time if he had an alternative. He just said that my body needs to adjust to the drugs, which is what he said last time and the time before that and the time before that. That fuckwit is assigned to my organisation so I don’t have to pay the consulting fees but it does mean that I can’t afford to switch to a doctor who gives a flying fuck.

It’s been almost four months and I still can’t sleep. Done all the usual insomnia cures. I’m considering asking someone hit me over the head each night.

I really don’t know if insomnia or developing an addiction to sleeping pills is worse.

I feel totally vulnerable and cheated. I’m really angry. I’m smoking like a chimney. Really don’t know what to do. So tempted to never go back but I’m completely fucked up mentally. My friends are there for me when they can be but I’ve no family here and I get harassed (pointed at, laughed at, asked how many kilos I weigh,) and there is a constant threat of violence (women have been robbed at gun point and knife point near my office and my flat) every single time I leave my house.

Paradise

Well the holiday is not turning out exactly as I thought it would. I spend most of the time in bed to try and catch up on all the sleep I’m missed. I still need the sleeping pills to sleep at night.

Ceili is acting like a total bitch. So it turned out we were both keeping each other up at night so after a particularly sleepness night, she starts bitching at me and I get another room. It cost me $600 of money I don’t really have – my total birthday present from my parents.

So I’m broke, I’m old, I’m depressed and on medication. Is it any wonder I spend most of the time sleeping. I know that one is supposed to enjoy holidays especially in a paradise location but I want my computer and hugs from somebody who doesn’t treat me like shit.

The irony is that I knew this would happen. There are types of friends people should never go on holidays with and Ceili is one of mine. Once again she stirred up old shit. I can’t help but feel that this friendship is very one sided. I will explore that in therapy when I go back to Hell.

Oh well only a week left in paradise and maybe my money will last

I’m back

Well it’s been a while since I posted because everything went down the tubes. I was severely depressed and missed six weeks of work. The saga with my parents was only the beginning. The substance of my work was causing Secondary Post Traumatic Stress and apparently I was fucked up by my motorbike accident and thinking my friend was dead. Now I’m in counselling and taking anti-depressants. So I’m a wreak and can’t help feeling that I’m weak for needing to take the drugs. Intellectually I know better, but I’ve spent most of my life being my own hero and not depending on anyone, because I’ve been so let down. My shrink says that I’ve turned off my emotions and I suspect she may be right.

So that’s me – fucked up and not fancy free. In fact this whole episode has caused me to reevaluate several friendships. That actually deserves its own post (maybe tomorrow).

I’m back now, medicated and taking a holiday to recover from my illness. The real reason is that I’m trying to get some sleep. I’m been suffering from insomnia in the last three months. I have tried every sleeping pill. I have mixed each pill with alcohol and other drugs just to find the right combination to send me to sleep. All have failed. I’m searching for sleep. It’s been ok while I’m on holidays but when I go back to Hell I just don’t know.

OK gonna catch up on my RSS feed

Psychosomatic illness or not?

The power of the mind is tremendous. I’m faking an illness, not as one might think to skip off work but, to avoid going to a party. What sort of a weird party pooper am I? You may well ask gentle reader. But I ain’t got the cash. What a pathetic excuse and one that people would laugh at. But it’s true – am seriously lack in cash.

Besides that, the hostess that been acting as a total bitch to me lately and although I understand her angst I don’t see why I and not her boyfriend you take the heat. I like M but many chill pills may be required. I really don’t want to spend my weekend picking her off the floor in a drunken stupor. Not so much fun for me.

So I’m faking illness. Having said that, I think I am actually coming down with something. I don’t know if its the flu that Colleague No. 1 actually has or whether it is the power of the mind and I’ve invented a psychosomatic illness. It’s interesting regardless, to me anyway.

What else is up? Not much really. Got a visitor and am going to spend the weekend drinking at the Diner and sleeping. St Patrick’s is next week and I’ll play the role of an Irish girl and try and find some green clothes!

Got an awful headache

Nasty week but it’s almost over

It is truly amazing how bitchy people can be. If you are going to stab me, at least have the fucking courtesy to do it to my face and not aim squarely for my back. I’d much rather Slutty be honest and tell me that she wants Doc instead of whispering in his ear. She had the temerity to presume to know my feelings and then communicate them to him

– Oy. You know DS is in love with you? Right. She’s having a tough time transitioning from love to friendship.

Well you know what bitch, bring it. Apart from your annoying tendency to always choose one night stands over friendship and your concerted effort to have sex with every boy/man in the country, you are a fucking ugly person – body and soul.

Luckily Doc’s a good guy and doesn’t say this outright to you Slutty. He just gives you enough rope to hang yourself and you do every single time because you cannot keep your hands of somebody else’s man. You fancy yourself a manipulator but you betray yourself with your eyes and insincere enthusiasm.

Life is better today than it was yesterday. My dear Cokehead is getting better. It’s almost the weekend and everyone is gone away except Visitor, Sister, Doc and presumably Doc’s spanking new girlfriend (presumably without the spanking cos of the virgin thing). Yes indeed Doc has a girlfriend who is not me. So for some vengeance and comfort I might make out with Evans on the dance floor of Garden Bar tonight. Last weekend he may have been holding her hand but his eyes were on me.

He confessed, as did I, that he fancies me and would want a relationship with me if we were elsewhere but because we are in Hell, I’m too important as a friend to risk losing over a lovers tiff. He was completely sincere. And I agree. He is right. But I don’t like that he’s dating another girl. She is so boring and she takes time away from us. She takes him away from me. And when I have a few drinks taken, I sure do feel abandoned.

It’s been a really harsh week – Doc’s girlf, Cokehead’s hospitalisation, entertaining Visitor until late each evening and having to work the next day. Tonight is drowning sorrows night and I hope they haven’t learned to swim.