I had forgotten what a non-medicated slumber felt like, how I could drift in and out of sleep cycles without waking in a panic fright. I had missed the signs of rest- heavy eyes, cloudy brain, drifting into the inviting flashes of dreaming states.
I used to count sheep, viciously, vigorously, backwards from one thousand. I would reach eight hundred sheep running backwards across my vision behind tightly squeezed eyes (see all those colours!) and check in with myself to think, ‘yes, I am definitely falling asleep.’ And not ten minutes later I had reached nine hundred and fifteen animals that had accumulated in an open paddock in the corner of my mind and thought, ‘well what am I going to do now?’.
When sleep evades a person for so long, you become traumatised by the experience, and even the mere thought of going to bed draws terror. I was scared of nightfall, weeping when it was Master X’s nap, and that Mr. A on weekends could drift so effortlessly into the sweetness of rest. I would be awake, wired, on edge, incompetent in even closing my eyes. They would flutter, twitch and at times even fly open in horror at any possible sound (real or not real), keeping my mind active, engaged and ever so, so awake.
But last night was different. I did not even consider that I MIGHT need medication, I felt confident, relaxed and even a little excited about the upcoming period of rest. My thinking was altered, and the associated feelings were light. And this morning, things seem clearer, even more translucent than previous days.
It seems as though the day has possibilities and that is enough for me this morning.
If you or someone you know is experiencing thoughts of suicide please contact Lifeline immediately 13 11 14