Woken again by nightmares. 3am. Same as every night since I got here. If I’m spending every waking moment thinking about abuse, I guess it stands to reason my brain is a bit full. I’ve just kind of resigned myself to the fact that I’m not going to get much sleep at the moment.
I don’t like the bit when a nightmare has woken you and then you really want to get back to sleep but you can’t because you’re worried about going back into the dream. I always make the decision to stay awake. Tired is better than scared.
I don’t think I have ever slept much. Six hours is a good night’s sleep. Anything amiss and I can easily get by on four. When people say things like “oh I’m nothing without 8 hours sleep a night,” I wonder what that’s like. Double what I get. Every single night. Crazy talk.
Once I am tired, I go to sleep. I don’t lie there, not able to nod off. I guess I don’t try until I feel sleepy. From what I can tell, the nightmares seem a common problem for survivors.
A doctor friend explained it all to me once. When abuse occurs, it imprints itself on your brain in the wrong bits. It’s like when you rush into a room to put something away and you’re in a hurry so you just shove it on a shelf, and later you forget where you put it. Only in your brain.
Because it’s in the wrong bit of your brain, it means you dream about it at the wrong part of your sleep cycle. So it seems more real, and you remember the dream. Even though I know why it happens, it still happens. Knowing doesn’t stop it. Or make it easier to deal with. Knowing facts is interesting and it means you understand what happens. Still stuck with the nightmares though. No change there.
The irony is that sleep is probably the one thing that would help. Everyone, not just me. When we sleep, we process stuff, sort through emotions, juggle dilemmas, re-organise our thoughts. We wake refreshed, more able to cope with what the day throws at us. In fact, sleep is all positive.
The thing that could help me right now is being disrupted, because I’m thinking about stuff too much and everything feels all over the place and nothing fits anymore and now I can’t get back to sleep. An abusive circle of abuse and abusive thoughts. How abusive.
I get a blanket and go to my desk. Maybe if I join the chat room. Daft talk and silly jokes. Heads together over there in late night deep discussion. Popping in and jumping out. People, old timers, mods and newbies like me. Nobody has the answer, but the company and the feeling of together is better than alone and thinking in the dead of the night.
a blog less ordinary 