After three days of sleep I thought a corner had been turned. But the jarring sound of a bathroom stool being scraped across the floor, a fitful four hours of sleep and a scratch that shook the bed like a dog with a bad case of fleas it was no use. At 2 a.m. the day was going to begin.
This is insomnia.
It is the dull ache at the front of my head that won’t let up until nightfall when I pray with grand hopes that deep sleep will find me. It is all jangling nerves with exposed ends that scream at the slightest provocation no matter what the scenario may be. Insomnia is knowing how sleep deprivation can truly be used as a form of torture. When the thick fog of little sleep clears the way for wiry thoughts that squirrel in and out of your brain all at oncein focus and crystal clear. These are the thoughts of madness that seem impossibly sane.
My eyelids are thick with heat and a scratching dry persistence that nothing can abate. My scalp will itch until sleep is found while my insides begin to quake. The jaw tightens, the stomach churns and hunger burns throughout. The talk of food turns me queasy and all at once I need to get out. Like an old foe it sits back in its chair content to watch and wait. It stares at me from a dark corner with a twisted smile and twisted fingers curling my way all large eyes that burn red and glowing. “Soon your eyes will become my eyes”, it whispers in a voice that is all too familiar.
Reality shifts and things are blurred at the edges. Details become sharp and then float away and I am lost in a world that is all heavy limbs, tense muscles and itchy eyes. I yearn for sleep, crying fitfully in my bed. I feel on the brink of the next great American novel and realize it will be lost minutes later. Pulpy words that have no real direction. Inside I laugh while tears seep down my face.
Like a superhero I make bold declarations, “Tonight, I am in bed at 8 p.m.!” or “Today I will be super productive!” Meaning that by 3 a.m. the laundry has begun, a grocery list has been established and a menu planned for the week. In my head. By 11 a.m. I am lost to a soup of a brain that marches through the day in a series of fits and starts feeling like a wayward cast member from The Walking Dead.
This is my insomnia.
Powerfully written. I dealt with a two-night insomnia experience recently, and it was awful. And it was only two nights. I’m so sorry. Sleeping pills? They worked for me.