I've always joked about being crazy, but this week, I've really felt crazy -like the lock me up in a padded cell, take away all sharp objects, put on the fuzzy mittens, and medicate me crazy. That kinda crazy.
Let me fill you in.
I can't go to sleep at night because my mind is racing. Filled with stupid, random, inconsequential thoughts. Thoughts that I cannot turn off. Thoughts that prevent me from sleeping when my body is crying for sleep. This is the only thing I'm thinking about when my mind is racing, "For the love of God -shut the eff up!" But I can't. And I don't. So I don't sleep.
This new development (recent, even though I've suffered from insomnia in the past) has caused me to dread sleep, or the lack thereof, and I've had to resort to taking Tylenol PM. I'm not taking it every night, but I've taken it twice this week because I needed to sleep.
And when I'm awake, besides being exhausted -obviously, I'm anxious, panic-y, short of breath, and feeling like I'm about to suffocate. Throw in a bit of brief, but hysterical crying jags, and all signs point to NO FUN.
I'm a mess, right? During the day, it's my body that's freaking the frig out, and at night it's my big ol' brain that just WON'T STOP.
Depression and anxiety run in my family. I've had episodes before, but this time, I'm a little worried.
I've talked to J about it (I feel normal when I'm with him, but unless I'm planning on skinning him and wearing him like a coat, I can't depend on him making me feel better), and I've told him that if I don't feel like myself next week, I'm going to see a doctor, which he is really not pleased about. He doesn't want me to feel like this, but the thought of being medicated makes him nervous. Understandable. But the thought of living like this makes me nervous.
Because I like to joke about having my finger on the panic button, but actually having my finger on the panic button is a total bitch.
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2 comments:
Wow, reading that was like reading about myself right now. I've had serious insomnia for about the last month. Everytime I lay down I just keep thinking of a million things. At least I know I'm not alone.
I understand completely, esp. the anxiety and racing thoughts. And while I am not one to really advocate medication, sometime I think it would do me a world of good as well. Sometimes just talking to someone like my husband has a calming influence on me, but that is only temporary before my wild and imaginative mind takes over again. Maybe it is something that happens to really creative and imaginative people? Writing has become an outlet for me, whether it is my blog or my personal journal. Sometimes it just helps to put my thoughts down on paper. Hope this makes sense & good luck--I am thinking about you!
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