Re: 10pm ish I believe n/m

Paul,
Last time I had a bout with insomia (December through March) I promised I would never complain about only sleeping four hours a night--THAT"S the kind of insomnia I get. (I did NOT keep the promise. I'm not as tough this time--the body pains came on much quicker--within a day or two of 4 hours sleep. And I'm complaining)

I got through that bout by praying constantly that angels would keep me safe. It was scary.(do you know what it does to your nerves? There was one night I didn't fall asleep at all. But I'd determined not to bellyache nor tell anyone what I was going through-- I did nap occasionally, just to keep going. An acupunturist took pity on my and helped relieve the muscle pain from sleeping so little, and I had every symptom of fibomy...whatever it's called. But I got through it. Having experienced the over the edge sleep deprivation 11 years ago, when I felt that "funny" feeling, I dropped everything, called a friend, and left home for a week. (she was/is an amazing person--she didn't really even know me, but her name came to mind, and it turned out she was non-judmental, well adjusted, and let me do my own thing, with no pressure, suggestions, anything. Wow. The week at her place let me get back to sleeping, and kept me from going over the edge.)

A month of "normal" if there is such a thing, and then the Depression came slamming back. First just a feeling things weren't right, a tiredness, some negative thoughts, who knows what else, and bam, within a short time, I'm sleeping fine--but the world has turned gray. I fall asleep constantly. And life slips lower and lower and then it becomes agonizingly painful or just blah. And it's so weird--you look the same (kinda) you walk and talk like you (don't talk much) but life seems hopeless. Everything is to hard. Sleeping is escape. Books are escape. Laying in bed for hours, not even asleep is escape--it is hurting me phyically to remember how horrid the Depression is. Then, something triggers the fighter in me, or the pain gets to grate, or both, and I start trying again.

Here I am, out of depression, not functioning all the well, but the biggest difference--HOPE. And little by little my memory is coming back. It's like it's been in cold storage. People look better, I care about them, I'm interested in making connections, I stop isolating, I call people....

I'm not explaining this well. And I have a cup of valerian tea telling me I'm getting lost talking (it's like a spigot broke--and I'm 'talking' too much.

I'm heading towards bed. My hubby is out of town, so I have covered the clock so I can see it. Maybe then I won't panic if I wake up and see what time it is. Wish me sweet dreams.
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