Well crap. If that isn’t a handful, I don’t know what is.
They feed off each other. They exist to torture me. I see no point for them to be exist otherwise. Combine all of that with loneliness? And you’ve got the hot mess express, ticket for one, rolling in real quick.
You’d think drinking would take care of the others…the insomnia and the nightmares. And usually, it can. But not always. Not lately.
And just because it helps me sleep does not mean I’d consider it helpful. Alcohol helps me sleep. Too much of it and it sedates me past the point of nightmares. But I would not consider it helpful. I know alcohol has helped destroy a big part of me.
But if I had to choose between one more drink and a night of horror and sleeplessness? Well…the answer is easy.
But is it easy? Because is it actually going to be “one more drink”? or will it be 3? When will I be satisfied that the job is done?
Usually not until the choice is out of my hands. Until I’ve passed out or blacked out. Lately, I’ve been so exhausted that falling asleep is the easy part. The nightmares, however, are far less easy to escape from.
This pattern is familiar. And it’s miserable.
All I want to do is sleep. How can I ever get “sober” if the battle for peaceful sleep is always so turbulent? I want peace. I want rest. I want a hug. And my damn husband can fall asleep immediately, with no thought or problems. (I’m not at all bitter about that 🙁 ).
So, who wins the battle? Alcohol solves the insomnia and nightmares, but ultimately makes it worse. I know that.
But do I care about “ultimately”? Or do I care about now?
My empty glass is screaming to care about now. the fear behind my eyes tells me to drink it ALL now. I have to sleep.
In whatever way “sleep” comes…I need it. My kids will be up at the same time regardless of how my night goes.
If sleep is self induced….fuck. I know it isn’t healthy. I know it’s a problem.
But tonight….insomnia and nightmares are more than I feel strong enough to handle. Tonight I want self induced sleep.
Even if that means regrettable hangovers in the morning.
It’s a messed up thing to have to choose between.
How do I choose me, if all the choices I’m faced with seem to hurt me?