It’s the second day of the year and, despite my best wishes and most secret hopes, 2016 has not started off very well. But as I decided yesterday, I have two big goals for myself this year: to write at least 100 words every day, and to be unapologetically myself for once in my life. So with those goals in mind, let me tell you about today. (See post tags for content/trigger warnings.)
It’s the second the day of the year and I did not go to sleep until the sun started peeking through the blinds in my bedroom, sometime after 7AM, after wrestling with my own head all night. This is not new–it has been happening for a little over a week now. The problem isn’t that I can’t sleep (although that’s not easy in this cocoon of self-loathing) but what happens when I do: vivid nightmares that are just as awful when I can’t remember them as they are when I can. Once the sun is out, the world seems less frightening, and sleep is slightly easier and much more inevitable. The problem, really, is that sleep is fitful and interrupted and so I end up lying in bed for entirely too long and then the day is gone–I end up venturing out of the room at some point in the late afternoon, when the sun has been chased away again. And so my sleep schedule is fucked, and the nightmares are back, and I know exactly what’s happening to me (again).