One of the more intersting thigns about having chronic insomnia is the fear of sleep.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m afraid of going to sleep when I’m tired. This logic, it is not our Earth logic. It’s crazy troll-logic!
It’s 7.30pm right now, and I’m afraid that if I fall asleep at this moment (as my body is threatening to do), I’ll wake up bright eyed and bushy-tailed at 1am. Which would put me in a bad way by the time the vestry meeting tomorrow rolls around, and we’re discussing hot-button issues. Me plus hot-button issues is equal to snakes plus plane: it seems like a good idea to let me loose on them, unless you’re the one stuck with me and them in a small space with no exit.
raar. fear my bloodshot eyes!
I love those people who say, “Well, you’ve got insomnia, you must get a lot of work/writing/reading/praying done when you’re awake in the middle of the night and you have no distractions.” No, when I’m awake and I can’t sleep, I’m curled up in bed with my eyes closed, trying to will myself back to sleep so I’m not slagged in the morning.
The world looks a lot different from 3am than it does from 2pm. Really, at 3am, you don’t care who’s got valid apostolic succession. As a matter of fact, you would kick each and every bishop in the lower 48 in the head if it would guarantee you a solid night’s rest.
And on those nights when you’ve seen every second from 3am to 3pm, that same sense of dissonance rings in your ears. You’re half a step outside of the ‘real world’, no matter how much coffee you drink. Advertisements are white noise, cars are loud and their petrol stink makes you sick to your stomach, polyester— oy. Don’t even go there. You have to slow down, because otherwise you might fall down. And from this lessened pace, you realise exactly how frenetic this world has become, you can see the stupid, silly, crazy arguments that divide people in a new light.
I wonder what would happen if we all spent a couple of nights sitting up together.