Insomnia

It's another night of sleeplessness. I get right up to the edge of sleep, but, instead of slipping over easily, I'm snatched back. 

It's a night when I'm trying to go without any sleeping pill. Sometimes I make it; sometimes I don't. So tonight I gave up. In 25 minutes maybe it will come. 

I sometimes have weird dreams with the sleeping pills. Hell, I have weird dreams often anyway. What the difference?

It's a night when I call to Katie to come into my dreams so I can see her again. It's a night with tears in my pillow. My eyes ache and weep. 

And sleep will not come easily tonight. 

I need a miracle

Some kind of sign to say that the storm will pass. 

I need a tangible reminder of good in the world. 

The taste of anxiety

I assumed that everyone knows what anxiety tastes like, but my friend Oklahoma Amy (as opposed to Wisconsin Amy) asked me what it meant when I said I tasted anxiety.

It's metallic.  It's on the back of my tongue.  It includes a cold-tingling sensation that runs down my neck and shoulders.  The cold washes over me while I perspire lightly.  And, most of all, I can't swallow the taste.

Were you ever young and dumb like I was and you were dared to lick a 9 volt battery connectors?  Or maybe you're still dumb and check the smoke detector batteries still.  It's like that.  In fact, it's a lot like that, down to the tingle.

And that is me when in the middle of an anxiety attack.  Now, I can push through (at least usually) when I have to get through it.  I have coping techniques.  I can usually stay in the moment.  It may not leave for a few hours (seriously), but I can cope through it.  Maybe I'm not the most successful in the world at what I'm doing at the time (I once spent three hours working a jigsaw puzzle to get through one), but I can survive.

That's it.  Survival.

I'd like to do more than just survive, but that's a project for another day.