Trouble Sleeping

I wrote this last February/March. I just need to put it out here, so I can finally let it go. I’m in a much better place now.

Wrapped in the arms of a stranger in a foreign bed, I found myself going back in. As we drifted off to sleep, I revelled in how warm this feeling was. I missed it. I missed being part of someone else’s world. But really, it was a moment. A benefit, if you will. And while the carnal pleasures were enough to satisfy, that was all that it was.

I said I’d give dating a rest. I didn’t want to go an elusive hunt for something real only to find myself disillusioned the next week. That’s what I wanted. What I needed.

But loneliness is a killer. It creeps up on you in your dullest moments. One second, you’re enjoying some good tunes in your car; the next, you find yourself looking for sad songs. And when you see couples pass by — in the mall, on your feed — you start going back to those solitary nights in bed. (I’ve stopped looking at Instagram for a while, actually.)

I don’t doubt I’ll find someone. I’m persistent. But loneliness doesn’t mix well with anxiety. And boy, that’s another problem.

I’ve been sleeping quite poorly over the last few months. When you’re up till five in the morning with only your thoughts to keep you company, you know you’re somehow doomed. It’s frustrating, really. I’ve tried everything. Melatonin pills. Mindfulness recordings. Jazz music. Hot chocolate. Tiring myself out. Nada.

The only time I’ve ever really found myself sleeping peacefully is when I’m knocked out with alcohol. But my wallet isn’t deep enough to do that every night. And neither is my liver. I’m sad, but still practical.

Truth be told, I haven’t felt this way since college. This slump. This weight bringing you down. Back then, I was president of an org, assistant director of a play, managing a small business, letting out my extroversion. And for some reason, none of it was reason enough for me to be happy. I was so bogged down by what I thought people were saying. And though I had words of affirmation from friends, though I could clearly see the good I’m doing, I felt so lost. It was years later when I realized I was likely depressed.

I think I’m self-aware enough to know that this is a repeat performance. But awareness doesn’t help you get out of bed in the morning. For as long as I was sleepless in the night, so long was I glued to the comforts of my blanket in the daylight. As if it were the only thing keeping me safe from the world.

I know I’ll be better. Just… not now. I need more time.