My bedroom, particularly my bed, has always been my sanctuary. It’s where I choose to spend most of my free time. It’s where I feel safe and comfortable, and sometimes even shut off from the world that mocks me so. Recently it’s been my office, my playroom, my reading and/or study room, even my kitchen table at times. I bring my children here when they are sick or hurting so they can feel the power of my sanctuary.
Lately, though, at night my sanctuary has become my hell. Once I turn the lights off and my head hits the pillow, the torment begins. Worry, stress, anxiety, confusion, doubt, and even physical hurt bombard me in the darkness. Oh, I take anti-anxiety meds before I go to bed, and they prevent that clever chemical trickery that sets off my normal anxiety. But this is different. This is what I consciously put myself through. I say consciously because these are true anxieties playing on my mind, the things we are supposed to release before we settle down to slumber.
But for me, my tormentors persist, long past the time I’ve made my list of issues to address tomorrow and put it aside. Past the time I act out my evening rituals. And even my evening rituals are changing, since I find myself unable to pick up my Nook, despite the fact that I have tons of titles I have yet to read. When I find myself too upset even to read, I know there is a problem.
Of course, by the time the hell takes hold of me, it is too late to address anything. I can’t make phone calls. I can’t send text messages. I can’t get any relief whatsoever, driving me further into madness. I find myself up every fifteen minutes, pacing, smoking (yeah, a habit I picked up again after having quit 10 months ago), and thinking too God damn hard. But even if I could address any of these issues at this time of night, I’ve got my mind so tangled up and twisted, there’s no way I could make sense of anything. Certainly not enough to solve anything.
I’ve begun fighting bedtime. I find every excuse I can (including blogging) to not have to turn off the light and lay my head down. Which leaves me still battling my demons, but doing so while staring at the walls and keeping myself up into the wee hours of the morning and ruining any possibility of rest for the day ahead. It’s become a vicious cycle that I can’t seem to break.
Answers. I need solutions. But if I can’t find them during the day, when resources are at hand, how the hell am I going to find them at 2am?
And how do I go about getting clarification on my confusion when I can’t form solid thoughts, just jumbled up pieces of internal conflict and the conclusions I’ve already jumped to? How do I form a coherent statement when I no longer know what the real question is? Nevermind the emotion that threatens to take over any healthy form of communication and turn it into an accusation, a drastic measure I never wanted to take, or a physical display of my absolute descent into madness.
Am I being dramatic? You’re damn right I’m being dramatic. But it’s 2am and the monsters have a hold of my mind and my sanity and they refuse to release me until the children rise and demand to be nurtured. So I have no choice but to battle on through the night and hope the sleep takes me before the madness does.