Thoughts from April 24, 2010.
It has become difficult to wake up.
Not the act of opening ones eyes and starting the day, but the realization that you are waking up to the same despairs that you tried to get away from by sleeping.
I’m the type that ponders ever so deeply when I’m not working or busy with anything. My mind just keeps racing and turning which some people might conclude as a worrier. Maybe I am.
There would be moments wherein I’d rather be asleep so I can save myself from worrying/ thinking. But after perhaps two hours of snoozing I’d wake up and just can’t go back anymore. My head, the moment my body recognizes I’m awake, can’t will it to doze off again. So instead of conjuring horrors lying in the dark, I would fight it off with a book, a movie or by writing.
There would also be times wherein I can’t hold on to sleep for as long as I need to. Dreams, sometimes they trick me. They make me believe that its true and I’d jerk myself awake in order to escape from it. So sleep which is intended to be a reprieve, is at times taken with anxiety.
Truth be told, my battling can only do so much. The shadows constantly knock at my doors and I would have to comfort and convince myself time and again that this is just the meds screwing my mind. I painstakingly soothe the voices that there really is nothing wrong and in case there is, deep within me I know what to do in order to fix it.
I’ve been running myself to the ground – spending late hours at work, running numerous errands, meeting with people, running around the mall to get things that I may or may not need, etc. – in order to ease my senses when it’s time to close my eyes. But this don’t always work; more often, sadly it doesn’t.
I think of work, of people, things I missed, mistakes made by me and mistakes made by people towards me. Then it gets all jumbled up with hopelessness and fear.
I was never good enough for myself and that feeling speaks so loudly in my head sometimes – and the meds I’m taking is making it worse.