The Fury Within My Brain
I decided to forego my Ambien last night. As I sat quietly reading in bed, my eyes became heavy and I thought for sure I could sleep without it. I closed my book, rolled over and held my husband as he slept soundly next to me. I drifted off for a little over an hour, and then it happened. Eyes wide open at 1:00 am, chopped ideas of poetry I should compose coming in, one after the other, followed by lyrics to songs I love, worries about the day to come where I would be running without sleep, watching the clock as the minutes ticked by and I could not stop the circuits from burning up in my brain. Two a.m. came and went and the thoughts were still infiltrating any hopes of falling back to sleep, staring at cracks in the ceiling in desperate need of repair, to feelings of happiness that there was a good chance I’d still be awake to make my boys french toast before sending them off to school, to anger over the fact that everyone else in my house was fast asleep. Next came the self doubt and critique of my corny poem I posted yesterday, voices telling me what a fool I was to believe I was going to be saved and filled with peace. Where was my savior on a night I truly needed sleep? I then proceeded to become more anxious by the fear that I was going to have to manage the household alone as my husband was having oral surgery today and more than likely will be debilitated on pain meds. Damn you God, why couldn’t you just give me one night of peaceful sleep? How am I ever going to manage on an hour and fifteen minutes sleep?
The fury continued as I listened to wind howling outside, identical to the very thing going on within my mind. Thoughts were blowing around with excess speed and force. Do I get up? Clearly I could not take an Ambien now at 4:03 am. Anger intensifying as my husband tried to console me, rubbing my back, but my eyes remained wide open with fear that I was chipping away at his spirit and love for me. Tears began streaming when I recalled the days of him quietly telling me how much he loved me and would love me forever, while he thought I was sleeping years ago. I questioned accusingly why he does not do it anymore?
“Just tell me,” I begged, “I’m killing your spirit and chipping away at the love you feel for me, aren’t I? I don’t blame you. Why do you insist this family needs me? What am I doing for all of you? Look at me. Look how fucked up I am! I can’t stop the thoughts. They won’t stop coming. I can’t even stop talking long enough for you to answer any questions. God, this sucks. Why can’t I get a break?”
Questions and words came out faster than any “normal” mind could process. He just looked at me helpless, struggling for the words, for the right thing to do. The night was endless, and I am sure he felt the same way, as I agitatedly tossed from side to side, feet constantly moving under the covers. I let out a cathartic yell in exasperation, and by 5:00am said to hell with it, I am getting up to have some coffee with you and going to struggle through the day. What choice did I have? Had I laid there one minute longer, I feared I would seriously lose what was left of my mind.
Now here I sit, and the time is approaching where my kids will be up to prepare to go back to school. Over an hour ago, I attempted to take Xanax to calm the storm, and still my eyes are wide open, and I fill this page with my mania. Never again. Tonight I will take the Ambien. I cannot worry that it could be addictive. What else can I do? Especially considering my mania is filled with irritability and labile moods? Will the Xanax eventually work? I don’t know at this point, as my thoughts continue to come and I stare at this page, assuming this is what it feels like to do cocaine, although I have never, nor have I ever wanted to try it. I guess I will go beat some eggs and prepare to make two little boys happy, since their Mother will probably take on the characteristics of a bear by the time school is over at 3:30 this afternoon.
P.S. – I apologize right now for any and all grammatical errors and mispelled words. My brain is still firing but my eyes were at 50% when I proofread.