I’ve had an exceedingly frustrating day. It’s not over yet as I’m still waiting for a technical issue to be fixed after several hours of back and forth communication. At least I can say I didn’t cry about it. I came dangerously close, but I sucked it up. I’m confident it will be resolved soon.
I’m still dealing with insomnia but I ordered groceries earlier, and they included a non-addicting sleep aid. I’m not hopeful for tonight, though. I figured out what’s going on. It’s my method of coping with life. I force myself not to grieve and agonize over how we humans treat one another during my waking hours.
Unfortunately, when I sleep, the bill comes due. Everything I avoided thinking about plays out horrifically in my dreams. I feel trapped by this strategy, but it’s the only way I can survive. Now I’m going further by drugging myself, so I can sleep. It feels like a chicken-shit option, but so does the alternative.
I honestly don’t know how others can sleep with even more knowledge about fellow humans behaving atrociously. I avoid the news. I can’t watch TV unless it’s a cartoon. The Flintstones and Hey Arnold! are my shows these days. I’m relieved I can at least read novels, although some of them level me in my sleep. I just finished reading The Lords of Discipline by Pat Conroy for the second time. My gut regrets my decision.
My inner asshole has been verbally hazing me for being incapable of coping with reality. I’ve thought about phlebotomizing myself again, but not seriously. It’s not a solution, just a concession that exceptional intelligence is more disability than a gift IMO. (Especially when my avatar is black and female.)
I’m hoping when I’m well rested, I’ll be able to see the positive aspects of my life as they also exist. Exhaustion isn’t the same as depression, but it sucks just as much. Both shine a spotlight on all things negative and exasperating. I’m reduced to my pathetic facts list to help me cope. Things like: At least I’m middle-aged, and no matter what, it’ll all be over soonish. I’m getting a lot of mileage out of that fact.
I feel like Miss Celie telling Sophia not to fret over spousal abuse because life is a temporary condition in The Color Purple. Sigh. I need to decide on a novel to read later. I’ll probably choose something by John Irving or Charles Dickens. For now, I’m off to watch Stevie Nicks on YouTube. She can make me smile even through tears.