the lack of sleep, or of getting to sleep
Question:
<lots of things Well, maybe I should remind myself of these things more often. As it was, after about half an hour of breathing exercises, muscle relaxation, and enough Vicks to clear out Mt. Rushmore’s sinuses, I fell fast asleep. And no annoying death-threats from the old etcetera! — ***** Where the bee sucks, there suck I. ***** * * * http://www.charlespadgett.com * * *
Response:
Have you been to a sleep clinic.
Yeah, and in fact I was just thinking about the experience. Hooked up to a dozen machines, without any of my meds, I managed to stay awake what seemed like a very long time. The lights were on, dimly, so they could see me on the camera. Anyway, they found absolutely nothing, which I guess should cheer me up, and it did for a week or two. But here I am, months later, awake and not really wanting to try to fall asleep again. I can tell myself it’s nothing–and in fact some nights I wake up laughing at myself for thinking my heart has stopped–but tonight I’m in the mood to brood, and wonder what causes these waves of…whatever it is. In some areas the meds have made great progress. At least, I guess they have; it’s so hard to tell. For a long time I was able to concentrate very well. Which is unusual. I could sit for an hour and do a task, without getting up every few minutes. But even that seems like a reach, now. No panic attacks. But then, they haven’t been a massive problem in years, so I’m not thanking my current meds for that. No, what I want to worry about tonight is the troubling lack of progress, or even…what’s the word for reversal of progress? Regress? Anyway, *that*, in terms of getting outside, in terms of…oh, the billion things that make me afraid. Can’t eat a damned ice cream sandwich because the box was a little odd-looking, and what if someone laced it with cyanide? Can’t ride in a car, because what if there’s an accident? And I know there are answers to this, because six months ago I was driving nearly every day, and three years before that I was driving nearly every day, eating what I wanted, throwing things away without worrying overmuch if I didn’t wash my hands afterward, whatever. These symptoms have been better, and recently enough to remember. Of course, they say moving is a big stressor, and maybe I’m not giving it enough credit. I mean, I’m a thousand miles from my last home, that’s got to count for something. The traffic is different, the roads are different, so of course that part is more scary. People aren’t as friendly, or at least don’t seem that way, so socializing is more scary. I can’t pin down sleep, though. Sleep is scary, then it’s not, then it is, with no pattern that I can see. Probably there is some very simple underlying thing, some story I am telling myself every night without being particularly aware of it, once upon a time there was this guy who fell asleep and died. The end. Maybe I’m not asking for the right kind of help. Maybe I’m pushing it aside, because it takes so much energy to deal with it. But lord, haven’t I been through *that* enough times already? I’d hate to get to that space where dismissing therapy and meds is so easy, because they actually do *something*, compared to sitting here fretting all day and all night. Then again, maybe it’s just a question of habit. Maybe there are habits I’ve let slip, and now I can get them back. Like, whatever happened to relaxation exercises? Whither breathing? But there aren’t any answers tonight, and instead of accepting that, I want to think and think and think and think about them until I herd myself straight into the waiting arms of panic. It beats sleeping.
Response:
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I am *this* close to never sleeping again. Every night is torture, well, no, that’s taking it a bit far, but it’s certainly uncomfortable and scary, waking up thirty times to find myself pounding my fists against my sternum trying to make my heart beat again, convinced I have died during the night, finding myself flailing upwards as though from deep water, the suddeness of it, when I think I am still awake but am not, and none of the variety of meds helps. I should be the most tranquil person on earth by night, but instead feel like I have been kicked in the chest, lost my breath, lost my heart, lost my pulse, trying to laugh off the death throes with a shaky voice that I only then realize was crying out for help. cp
Have you been to a sleep clinic.
Response:
I am *this* close to never sleeping again. Every night is torture, well, no, that’s taking it a bit far, but it’s certainly uncomfortable and scary, waking up thirty times to find myself pounding my fists against my sternum trying to make my heart beat again, convinced I have died during the night, finding myself flailing upwards as though from deep water, the suddeness of it, when I think I am still awake but am not, and none of the variety of meds helps. I should be the most tranquil person on earth by night, but instead feel like I have been kicked in the chest, lost my breath, lost my heart, lost my pulse, trying to laugh off the death throes with
