Insomniaddict

I’ve always been a troubled sleeper.  If there’s really such a thing as a Circadian “Rhythm”, then mine is about as off-beat as a white chick twerking it at a hip-hop concert.  True story.

I’ve lowered my usual dosage of daily narcotic poison to a third of what it once was, and the drastic reduction seems to have completely obliterated any semblance of a sleep pattern I may have once had.  Yesterday I was up for 48 hours straight – which is fine if you’re a college kid during finals week, but really shitty if  you’re a 29 year old addict with nothing but anxious thoughts and bad TV to keep herself company at night.

I occupied most of my time last night by reading recovery blogs, rather than just giving in and taking enough of the poison to induce a much-needed REM cycle.  My GOD, it was hard.  I mean, insomnia scares the shit out of me.  During withdrawal, EVERYTHING scares the shit out of me.  Can openers scare the shit out of me.  Fuzzy blankets scare the shit out of me.  But insomnia REALLY REALLY scares the shit out of me.  I mean – look at what happened to that guy from Fight Club.  Yes, the movie Fight Club draws a direct correlation between sleep deprivation and punching yourself in the face repeatedly because you have confused yourself with Brad Pitt.  So yeah, the urge to cheat yesterday was monumental, but I stuck with it.

When light started pouring through my bedroom window I naturally decided that it was probably a good time to start my vicious cycle of lying in bed waiting for sleep and then getting angry because I’m waiting for sleep but have apparently been stood up.  But alas!  In a miraculous twist of events, I found myself snoozing.

Any addict who’s managed sleep during withdrawal can tell you that withdrawal dreams are… rather weird.  I found myself at a party with Satan, and by that of course I mean my narcissistic ex-boyfriend whom I parted ways with back in November ’14.  He was making out with his ex-girlfriend before me, whom I have never met but feel that I have because her profile pic album on Facebook is public and I am a curious (read “weak”) individual with self-esteem issues.  Anyways, they’re blatantly sucking face right in front of me and I’m feeling the need to punch something.  Where’s that Brad Pitt hallucination when you need it?  So I walk right up to this random guy that I used to work with about 6 years ago and scream at the top of my lungs, “I hope your child DIES!”

End scene.

It’s a little bit okay if you’re judging me right now.  I’m judging me too.  I’ll be the first to admit that there is a lot of fucked up shit running through my head on a regular basis, but this one made me feel like I’d maybe been a little bit brain-raped by Ted Bundy.  All I can do is pray that the technology from the movie Inception DOES exist, and that a very twisted individual has somehow managed to plant this strange idea in my brain without my consent.  Maybe it was that guy I keep hearing about in the news, that’s been hacking into baby monitors and waking up sleeping infants for the hell of it… scaring the shit out of their parents.  Yes.  He is the reason for this.  I am sure of it.

I woke up the way 99% of us in acute withdrawal do.  In a sudden, sweat-soaked, heart-racing state of utter panic for virtually no reason whatsoever.  Well, I wouldn’t say NO reason.  It was clear to me as I involuntary sat straight up in bed that there was a loud noise emanating from outside my door, and it was coming from my year-old nephew.  He’s gotten into the habit of wandering the hallways of our apartment screaming non-words at the top of his lungs lately.  Sometimes I feel like following suit.  Anyways, the happy little guy was just announcing his presence to the world as usual, but today it REALLY freaking pissed me off.  I felt like the Cave of Wonders in Aladdin when it screams out, “WWHHOOO’S DISTURBED MY SLUMBER??”  I mean, is he not aware that 3:00 pm is sleepy-time for Auntie?  That she needs complete and utter silence at this UNGODLY hour?  How terribly inconsiderate of him, I thought.

I’ve been through this all before.  I know that I will begin to take on some undesirable personality traits more commonly identified in people like Charles Manson.  I am aware that the monster that’s emerging is in no way related to the good person I know myself to be.  But that doesn’t stop me from being scared.  I’d say that I hope this phase doesn’t destroy my relationship with the people close to me, but I don’t have to worry about that.  The LAST phase already accomplished that.  It was my addiction that pushed everyone away, not my attempt at recovery.

And so I’m awake again at 10 pm.  I haven’t cheated on the taper and I’m not going to.  It’ll be another sleepless night.  I can tell.  But it’s worth it.  It’s worth it.  It’s worth it. Because a year from now I’ll be able to fall asleep without soaking my brain with artificial endorphins.  And maybe I won’t be waking up wondering if I should call Social Services on myself either.

• Liz –