No Dream Warriors Here

From one of my favorite 80’s Bands, as well as one of my favorite horror movie Franchises. (Long live Freddy Kruuger!)

 

And so the sleep disturbance saga continues, with new twists that weren’t there prior to Latarda and Trileptal. It was one thing having trouble getting to sleep and staying asleep. Now the bizarro dreams have invaded along with a slew of other disturbing little quirks.

Last night, I retired to my crypt around nine p.m. Kid was down (finally, it’s like having a Siamese twin with a one word vocabulary MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY) and I was just needing to chill. I thought once she was down, I might revitalize and find more energy. I mean, I cooked a good spaghetti supper, we both got showers, it wasn’t an awful day, just lazy. I should have felt more alive. But I didn’t, I was tapped out. Toward ten I laid down and the scumbag brain began t0 do its tornado thought thing. I thought, I should take at least half my bedtime Xanax dose. But noo, I was being stubborn and went with the counting backward from 1000, the stop sign method, deep breathing, focusing on the Forensic Files playing in the background. (Yeah, I know, falling asleep to murder shows is creepy but that narrator has such a calming voice!)

I was in that zone where I was starting to drift off, in spurts. But I kept jolting awake, as if falling asleep would kill me. By the fifth jolt, I was pretty much on my way to dreamland. And BAM, my desktop decides to go blue screen of death and make knives in a blender noise. Instant panic and wakefulness. I shut it down, let it rest. The hard drive’s going out but I will use it til it’s death knoll. The silence killed me. I thought, I will try to drift off without background noise, give the pc a break…Ha. Didn’t happen. I got the desktop running again, put Forensic Files back on, and went back to the counting and stop sign dance. After a half hour, my heart still pounding head racing, worrying about the computer even though I’ve had it a year, it only cost $75 and I do have other options to use…I took a 0.5 Xanax. Eventually slept.

And came the dreams. Or nightmares. The Donor was in them. Trying to convince me I was the evil bitch and even though he walked out and has done nothing for Spook, he should be entitled to full custody. And I was buying into it, just like I half ass bought into all his manipulations and lies in the first place. Because he is just that good at mimicking emotion. I woke finally and was so glad Spook had climbed into my bed so I could drape a protective arm over her…I hate the fucking dreams, hate hate hate.

So I was less than amused when the spawn started poking me with a stick bright and early. When are you gonna get up, mommy. Are you gonna sleep all day mommy.Mommy mommy mommy. It wasn’t even 8:30. I just wanted to loll in bed a bit,not necessarily sleep, just loll. Bladder protested as much as the kid. then the mewling cats, so I got up. Foggy from the rough night of sleep and dreams.

Thus far, I’ve soaked some dishes, with the intent to do them at some point. Put a load of laundry in the dryer. Cleaned cat boxes. Not feeling too bad, but that’s the thing, Mornings are okay, aside from my night owl bone marrow despising the daywalker thing. Spook has a new pet, which I won’t allow in the house. It’s a worm she named Wormy. I can handle snakes, spiders, roaches..But no worms, slugs, or maggots. I can watch autopsy shows no problem. Til the maggots. I guess we all have our boundaries. The kid freaked out over a dead spider yet is petting and bonding with a worm. I guess weird is in our DNA.

I have zero plans for the day. Can’t really run around, little gas in the car. The church lady (how SNL is that?) called last night to ask if I could bring Spook today since they are all so busy, and then when I picked her up I could attend their steak luncheon. (Can’t stand steak.) It was humiliating having to admit I didn’t even have enough gas in the car for a ten mile trip so my kid could go to church. My God, I never saw my life turning out like this. All these overachieving super together twenty somethings and I’m 42 and struggling day to day…Pathetic. This was not how it was supposed to be. Of course, I never sat down and ordered mental illness from a catalog, either.

Sometimes it’s hard to take, seeing all these people younger than me, multiple kids, full time jobs, mortgages, hobbies, outings, church, et al. And I can barely manage no job, one kid, and can’t even have a social life because my brain is that fucked up. It’s not for lack of desire. To be this old and yet feel like such a child because my life is…THIS…It’s embarrassing. I also know it’s not entirely my fault. Good choices can only be made by a brain that isn’t ill. I made the choices but I wasn’t in my right mind at the time. Not an excuse or cop out, just fact. Still, no one around me cuts me any slack. Just the other day at the shop R said, “Oh, that woman can’t pick her TV up til the first when she gets her disability paycheck. Oh, I mean when they hand her money for doing nothing.”

My self esteem soars.

I have to hear shit like that every single day. Even from my own father who was on about what all he’d done in a day at his age and how I did nothing and blah blah blah. shut the fuck up. Like I don’t feel crappy enough.

Yet at the same time, I am supposed to be thankful for what I have and not complain because others have it worse.

But if I accept and am thankful for what I have, somehow that means I’m fine being mental and not being a productive member of society.

Catch 22.

This is why I like horror movies. They’re fiction. The real horror is called civilized society.

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2 Responses to “No Dream Warriors Here”

  1. That’s always been a fear of mine if I had children. That my sperm donor would try to take them away from me. Especially on the excuse of my insanity. *shudders* Makes me homicidal. Time to play video games.

  2. I deal with the real fear of my visitation being taken away and not seeing my daughter AT ALL. I’ve lived with the horrors of seeing my daughter on a court-based visitation schedule and it took me a few years. I still suffer resentment from it and it was a trigger the night I hanged myself. It’s similar to Specter the way you think you’ve mastered /overcome it then it hobbles out of the corners, shrieks, and slashes you.

    Continue being brave my dear friend. Your reality is just that, and shame on people for casting judgment on you. Just shame on civilized society.

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