insomnia

I crawled into bed last night thinking of this prompt and instantly wondered, did I take my pill already? Or did I wait, knowing that I wanted to watch TV in bed, that I wanted to stay awake, and the pill would make that difficult.

2012 was a year - a year in which I was haunted by hungry ghosts - left powerless and anxious for them. It was a year in which my happiness always had a shadow of things I haven’t yet figured out how to fix. And it was the first year in which I’ve experienced insomnia.

It wasn’t so much that sleep eluded me, but that I fought it off. The nightmares of my childhood returned, more vivid than ever. I would awake gasping, or whimpering, the dreams so real I could smell blood. I can still see images from the last one – the one that recurred through most of August. The one that STG bought me herbal tea and an obsidian cuff to ward off, the one he promised to help me fight. The pills help. I take them, and I sleep in a place so deep the nightmares can't find me, and I actually wake rested. They aren’t sleeping pills – they are for other things. But, they help.

I said at the end of 2011 that it had been my annus horribilus (yes, yes, a bad ass year), and I never wanted to see another like it. This year was different, so I suppose that wish came true at least in part. And yet, I could do without the sadness, the anxiety, and the insomnia. I could do without the heartbreak – my own, and the ones I feel responsible for.

It’s hard to remember the blessings this year had, when there’s so much ill sleep to cloud my memories. But, the pills help.