Not always, but mostly, when I go to bed at night, my mind starts to whir. It starts with a single thought: ‘you don’t cut it.’ It swings back and forth annotating my thoughts with forceful examples of the failures in my life and relationships.
It is physically painful. The pain is in my chest and it is in hot waves that move back and forth. Or it is up my lats, wavering pain.
It’s not really even true, the things that upset me. I think ‘relationship’ and I feel a hole in my gut. I think ‘my children,’ and my heart sinks. I think ‘my family,’ and I feel hurt and pain. It’s really a time that I feel pain and think connections.
I fight it. I pray. I try to assert truths into my thought paths. That takes energy; though, and when I’m trying to sleep, it makes me more awake and less restful, so I surrender and believe that if I just let go of my thoughts and accept the pain, I will sleep.
And I do. It’s not a fun way to experience falling asleep. My psychiatrist gave me a pill, and I’m the queen of pill, but this one didn’t eliminate the pain, and made me a miserable-feeling grogginess when I woke up, even when I halved the doses.
I was on a sleeping pill before that worked, but it was a narcotic. I love narcotics, but they aren’t good for me.
That’s the famous how-Missy-sleeps episode of my life.