Tales of a Sleepwaker: Inside the Insomnia

I stare at the ceiling. Somehow sleeping and waking are the same. The same view. The same struggle. The same sluggish brain. The same problem.

It’s hard to sleep. Not because I have anything wrong with me, but its just that my brain refuses to shut up. You know when you get so frustrated with a person that all you want is silence? That’s my relationship with my brain. I tell it to shut up and it shoots into the substantiated claim made by the Pope in 1957 about some form of dignity.

I noticed something. When I stop moving, when my brain is no longer occupied by the worries of the day, my brain forces all of its efforts into whatever thoughts occurred to me that day. These various thoughts are filed away.

Life sucks when you have a good memory. Think about what it would be like to remember every odd comment that you ignored in the day. Usually, we don’t remember those things.

But at night its different.

In order to ignore the perpetual stuttering sleepiness that constantly lurks behind the entire day, my brain brings back old residual memories from work, family, or just conversation.

That is why I need to be careful what I hear. I sometimes have to lock down my brain when talking to my family or siblings. Mostly because I know that now at night any stupid comment anyone said I boil in my brain until I have become so upset and outraged at that person that the conflict will certainly last for days.

Thinking is rough.

If you think about something too long, you completely misconstrue what that person meant. Why?

Because your brain is not their brain. They did something thoughtlessly and I am spending hours trying to figure out what the subconscious subtleties where behind their behavior and whether what they did was for no reason or if it was a Freudian slip.

Yeah.

We all do this.

But I think we do it more when everything else shuts up. Because once we lay down and try to sleep, the drowned out words and thoughts that we ignored throughout the day come crashing back into our brains. Constipating our sleep cycle and making the next day crappy.

Living turns into a grey blur. Sleeping and waking are the same. Depression sets in. Life looks bleak when seen through drooping eyelids. Eventually, my body turns against me. In a resurgence where my body forms a coalition and begins a coup d’etat against the waking world. The denial causes my brain to function at a lower capacity, my muscles feel like jello right as I wake up, and I wake up more tired then when I tried to sleep.

Sometimes, it feels like the world would be much simpler if I did not have to sleep. Sleep takes too much effort. It’s like a building with hundreds of computers on numerous levels; as I walk through each corridor, the amount of stuff I must turn off becomes overwhelming.

After turning off the first floor, I realize that there are three more, and begin to despair. I will never have enough time in the night to think all the thoughts that I pushed aside during my day.

Take it from me. Don’t drown your thoughts. Let your mind breathe when the sun is up and before the darkness attempts to destroy your hope of daylight. The night takes longer and goes on more slowly because our minds race off kilter.

These are the thoughts of an insomniac.

 

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