It was only a dream...

*DISCLAIMER*

I am neither completely insane, nor hopelessly depressed. This blog, however, is much less for others' amusement than it is for my own personal outlet. I'm just fine, thankyouverymuch. I just need to write sometimes, so I can get things out of my head and be my fabulous self when I am actually out interacting with people. Let me have my (almost) private outlet :)

If asked what I was like as a baby, my mother would surely tell you first and foremost that I was the child that never slept. From time to time, she would lace my formula with a bit of Jack Daniels, just to have a few hours of rest (hey, it was the 70's).

From that point on, any hint of stress would set me off. I can remember my bedroom in our house in Saginaw, where we moved when I was four, and how terrified I was of the dark (as well as the witches and alligators who lived under my bed). I would lie awake at night, afraid to swing my feet over the edge of the bed for fear of being pulled underneath and eaten alive. I would often call the dog in from my parents' room, lure him under the covers, and then hang on for dear life until either he managed to squirm away or I eventually fell asleep. Having to go to the bathroom was excruciating - I would start calling for my mom in a whisper, wait for a response, and then call a bit louder. Eventually, the panicked yell of "Moooooommmm!!" would wake her, and she'd come turn the light on so that I could run down to the other end of the hall to pee.

I had a habit of sleepwalking, as well. Sometimes poor mom would wake up in the middle of the night to find every light between my bedroom and the family room on, and me sitting in a chair watching static on the television (again, it was the 70's. You got the Star Spangled Banner, then that was it for the night).

In high school, it wasn't much better. Some nights I would sleep with a light on in my closet, just because I 'didn't like the dark'. Other nights, I would wake at 3am, look at the clock, and say to myself, "Oh, man. It's time to get up for school." Only after going into the bathroom, taking a shower, and brushing my teeth would I look up and realize it was 3:30 - and I had four hours left before school started.

In college, well...let's just say I didn't have a lot of time left over for sleep.

When I got married, I spent many nights tossing and turning in the spare room. One snore out of my husband, and I was awake for hours. Motherhood made it even worse - the first few months after my son was born, I likely slept for no more than two hours a day. After he developed asthma as a toddler, I put a bean bag chair in his room where I would sit through the night holding him as he coughed.

Of course, this doesn't mean that I ever got used to being an insomniac. Eventually, after months of not sleeping, my body would start to shut down and I would find myself sick, exhausted, and sleeping ten to twelve hours a night for a while until my system reset itself.

The toughest thing for me is that as I've gotten older, it's become more of a challenge to work through the sleepless periods. In my early 20's, I would find that after a while, my digestive system would begin to freak out a bit when I got too tired. Later, my reproductive system would take a hit (I'll leave the details of that to your imagination). I began to find myself grouchy and moody, to the point where it almost got difficult to flip the switch that puts me into 'work mode', in which I can at least be highly functioning for nine hours at the office before driving home in a daze.

The scariest thing, though, was this past fall when I started having chest pains. I'd been running on three or four hours of sleep a night for a few months, and everything went straight to hell. Pain, pressure, numbness, and an overwhelming fear of dying were enough to make me have it checked out; the only thing that came of it was the recommendation that I sleep more.

My doctor gave me a prescription, which has been remarkable in the fact that it has indeed made me sleep longer each night. For the last four months or so, I have been out for about eight hours each night like clockwork.

Sounds delightful, doesn't it?

I would think so too, if it weren't for the dreams. Each and every night, I have the strangest, most vivid dreams. Some are just odd - like going to visit a friend at her house in the jungle where I could go visit a huge library with my grandpa - but others are sheer hell.

Last night, it was bugs. Some looked like huge black ants, and they were crawling under my skin. In my hair, across my scalp, the shapes of them were visible beneath the surface, scrambling madly across my skull. Others were beetle-esque, gnawing on my fingertips and drawing fountains of blood that couldn't be stopped. I awoke on the verge of a scream, heart pounding, entire body shaking.

Even though I'm sleeping more than ever, I never feel rested.

Today, I was working downtown. I looked out the window of my office on the 34th floor, and all I could see was fog. Not even the street below was visible. For a few moments between meetings, I sat and stared out into the swirling gray, straining for any sign of clarity - it was as if it had worked its way into my brain.

My chest, which still has a tendency to hurt at times when I'm tense, started to pound. I had five minutes before meeting a banker for coffee, so I stepped into the elevator, closed my eyes, and imagined the bright overhead light was the warm spring sun. As we sat in the Caribou Coffee, my hands started to shake. Then they, along with my feet and face, slowly went numb. I tried not to look too uncomfortable as I licked my lips, smiled vaguely, and willed my body back into submission. Luckily for me, my companion had to run out early to pick her daughter up from school. I was left alone to sit for a few minutes before gathering my things and driving home.

Surely there must be some cure for this. Although I'm very highly functioning compared to many others in the same condition, I'm afraid that if I don't fix things soon, the ability to overcome the issue will slowly disappear.

All I really want is to sleep. Peacefully. Regularly. Nightly.

Somehow, though, I think that may be too much to ask for.