So I seem to be in thrall of a bout of insomnia. Well, not a constant level of insomnia but definitely insomnia if you add up the hours of sleep per week. Last night it was 3 hours.
Now, usually when I end up with sleep problems it's because of some massive emotional or psychological problem I can't find a way to fix or the fallout of 'emotional recovery', whatever the hell that means, is taking up too much time out of a schedule I can't slimline just for the sake of finkin bout ma feelins. I had massive insomnia when someone in the family very close wouldn't stop talking to be about killing themselves for 8 months, five hours a day, everyday and they wouldn't let me tell anyone else about it or get help for them. I had stress induced narcolepsy when I was 17 because of a strange event I won't go into here, and I might have had a reoccurance of the blackouts I used to have as a kid, though I'm not sure - when I had blackouts as a kid they were well documented cos I just so happened to beat people up during in them so they drew quite a lot of attention, though when I was 17 no one seemed to know I'd been blacked out, I didn't do anything out of the ordinary. Not that the line of ordinary behaviour was in the right place in that group of friends; they were all junkies and frankly little seemed like strange things to do. The only time I heard anyone think something was genuinely not on was when one of our friends almost, literally, inches away, almost stuck a bread knife in his best friends head because he wouldn't shut up. And there's a bunch of other times I've had sleep problems but again, theres no point going into why; what's definitely a thing is each time that happened, I'd just move through it, functioning only in the barest sense of the word, with no rememberance of the experience, waiting for it to finish.
In the past month I've been doing something similar, not feeling clear headed, not writing, stalling, waiting to feel fresh and sharp, but the script is supposed to be about mind altering, hallucination and chemical imbalance to a point; maybe I should only write when I feel at my most unbalanced and see if what comes out is quite interesting or more like the product of a ketamine dream?
Either way, I'm tired. And my mind won't focus on anything I'm actually supposed to be doing. Which is fine I guess, whatever really. I find myself passionate one day about something I've never really thought would be a big part of my life, and completely apathetic about anything other than my cat the next. The hospital peeps enjoyed telling me - and not just once, as it seems that to many of the staff its definitely the only answer - that the recent change is 'like a rebirth' and many patients feel they need to reevaluate everything and figure who they are from scratch, but even though there might be some truth in that I mince everytime someone says it - 'rebirth'. Like nails on a chalkboard to me. Like eating chalk sticks while someone makes you scratch chalk sticks with one hand and run the nails on your other hand down a chalkboard.
I go now, I'm going to watch Charlie Brooker and eat a sandwich...