3AM
You know, I can feel them coming. Those bad, bad nights. It usually starts when the sun goes down and a wallop of anxiety hits. The anxiety builds, for one reason or another, until you go to bed and miserably realize, I’m going to be up all night. About 3AM I am no longer going to be rational and I will start worrying over stupid sh!t like “what if my teeth fall out and nobody loves me anymore when I’m toothless?” Oh, crap.
Just TRY to sleep then. I dare you.
I envy the people who can fall asleep at a moment’s notice and sleep all night. I really envy those people who don’t know that irrationality at 3AM is so much worse than at any other time of the day, because your defenses are down and you’re so tired you cannot restore proportionality to your thinking. I have thought the craziest things at 3AM.
A lot of people don’t understand that this type of anxiety isn’t just someone being nervous or wanting attention. There’s a lot of shame in our society attached to any stigma of “mental illness”, whether it’s PTSD or chemical out-of-whack issues. So suffering alone when one has a valid problem just makes the problem bigger.
I would like to go to the doctor, but no insurance makes that sort of problematic. And I don’t want to bring this up to a doctor until I’m sure they won’t pour Paxil down my throat. One of my family members is on Paxil or Zoloft (I forget which) and swears by it. “It’s the first time in years I feel like myself,” she says. The only trouble is she is not the same person now, I don’t recognize her and she thinks the Crazy Abusive Stuff she did no longer applies since she’s medicated; and furthermore, Paxil doesn’t work for me. It makes me want to do desperately dreadful things to myself. I’m glad she’s happy, but I don’t want that sort of bazooka leveled at my brain chemistry again.
I just need something for those nights I can’t sleep.
The Selkie and I talked about this once. And God bless her for stating the obvious. “At 3AM you’re not rational. You might be half-asleep or half-awake, but you’re not thinking straight. It’s hard to remember that when you’re worrying so hard.”
I was so relieved I could have cried. Nobody had ever said that to me before.
I also worry that the worrying in the deep dark shoals of morning is part of what drives the creative engine. I’m loath to disturb that equilibrium because I’ve been working with it for so long. I’ve done a lot of work in that state, and some of it is pretty powerfully affecting. It’s ridiculous to think my output depends on that–but still, it’s….worrying.
Part of the trouble with this sort of anxiety is that it doesn’t make sense. The body is upset and worried, and you start looking for reasons because if you’re feeling that way, there must be something wrong. Enter another round of desperation, and before you know it you’re chewing your own legs off to escape a trap that isn’t there.
There were lovely things that happened last night, the signing among them–and a totally beautiful hemp cuff that did help get me through the shoals early this morning. The cuff’s from a Reader, Scockercrew, and is knitted in an awesome herringbone pattern. Last night I had it on while reading in bed and when the bad shakes hit at about two AM (body declaring mutiny against what it knew was coming), I just started looking at how she knitted it, how well it was put together, the beautiful button, and I thought about how wonderful it was to have a gift from someone. I was glad to have met her, and glad to have written something that gave her a little joy.
It didn’t make the shoals any less toothy or dangerous. But it was really nice to have it to focus on, to take a deep breath and have a physical reminder that there was a sunlit world where order would be restored and things would be okay again.
This morning is sunny and bright, and I’m trying to remember to be gentle with myself today. It looks like another 60 degree day (about 15C, *grin*) and I might be able to open up the windows and let a nice slight breeze blow through.
Sometimes that’s enough.
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