I hate insomnia.  It is this thing that keeps tagging along thinking we are friends, and we are not. 

Before children, I could sleep. Always and everywhere. Once kids entered the picture, insomnia crept in making long term appearances. There were times that I did sleep as well, especially as each got a bit older.  Not fantastic, but ok.

Then Jesse had a manic episode and was in the hospital for almost two weeks in January 2014.  During that time, my body discovered a fight or flight mode that made me buzz both day and night. It slowly calmed down after, but not totally. He was ill, I had to continue to work, support him, the kids, and sometimes me. I always laugh at the concept of being so exhausted you can’t sleep. It is an unfair irony. I am an overthinker to begin with, add more to the plate, and my mind thinks it is a playground.

Then they died in the most horrific way possible. That brought back the fight or flight, this time on steroids. I was having a discussion with my psychiatrist, who has offered me a plethora of meds that I often say no to, and she was explaining how one would work with what my brain was doing. She said, listen, your brain, even when you are sleeping is on high alert, so any sound, any change in your environment, it goes into that fight or flight mode on steroids again. I did end up trying that one, because it was supposed to prevent that fight or flight from happening, but like most, it didn’t work. My body is ridiculously sensitive to meds, and I often get weird side effects.  I have learned to function on mediocre at best sleep. The nights I actually have decent sleep, I feel like a million bucks and feel like I am on speed the following day actually able to accomplish my to do list.

So, I continue to do what I know how to for healthy sleep, but it sucks when my body does not cooperate. Like last night, I woke up at 124am, and did not go back into a deep sleep. I meditated often, getting to the edge, and was jerked back awake. It makes me quite useless, irritable, I cannot think straight, and just feel like overall shit. I literally walk into walls sometimes when it is bad. Luckily I am writing today, not seeing patients.  It is not this bad every night thank goodness.

Which leads me to another observation. Up until Jesse and Bella died, I would dream of Jon Bon Jovi anywears from 1-4 times per month. This has been a constant love affair since I was thirteen. Yes, I know. You either understand this or not. After Jess and Bells had their car accident, we could not travel.  Him, knowing my love affair, told me to take the money we would have traveled with and apply it to getting front row tickets that fall of 2013 when they came. It was a bucket list and dream come true when that happened. One I am grateful for, for so many reasons. When Jesse and Bells died, those dreams stopped. I have not had one in what seems like forever. I noted it after a time, missing an old (and quite sexy) friend that would often visit. A weird thing that happened a few weeks ago. I had a dream. You got it, Jon Bon Jovi made a reappearance. I thought it a fluke, but it happened again this morning. After being awake from 130am, I got Raffis breakfast and lunch made and went back to bed for a nap. At some point, I finally fell asleep and had another dream. I have a theory, though not sure if there is any weight to it, if nothing, it would make a interesting psychological debate. I think that my subconscious feels safe again in my relationship, and is experiencing trust again. Why this shows up in Jon Bon Jovi making appearances in my dreams, I could not say.  Either way, it is a change that I am quite pleased with 😉

This is one of probably 1000 pictures I took that night