Sometimes I actively hate my body. Today is one of those times.
Yet again it has let me down. It has not lived up to its end of the bargain. It has promised me something and delivered only disappointment and pain.
It probably seems odd to you that I speak of my body in this way. Like an entity I do battle with. But that’s how it is for me. My body is my enemy. My monster in the night. My prison cell. My torture device.
I must be kind to my body. I must treat it with respect and not push beyond my limitations. I must rest when I need to and eat well, take my medications and generally do what I can to appease the beast. But what’s the point?
What’s the point when I do everything right, but still my body betrays me????
I do everything right yet I still end up with tears down my face.
The point is that I have to try. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be joking about it all again.
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Once upon a time I could sleep.
Well, I assume I could. Surely I wouldn’t have got this far in life without it? Plus, my mother used to assure me I slept with my feet in a grow bag, hence being a fairly tall girl (taller than my husband). So in order to grow so proficiently I must have slept, right? I bet I slept at night too. When I was supposed to.
Often I dream of sleeping. Of drifting off into a blissful slumber and waking up refreshed and invigorated (HA!). But even they are daydreams, not those cool dreams you normal folk have.
You see, I don’t sleep anymore. I haven’t slept properly in years. Even if by some small miracle I do drift off, it’s short lived and not particularly restful. If I’m super lucky it’ll be combined with night sweats and bad dreams. The kind of dreams that leave you with a terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach.
More often I just lie here, restless and uncomfortable, wishing sleep would come. I listen to the sounds of the house. My cats milling about, my husband snoring (count to ten, you’d miss him if you smothered him), that random noise that you never quite know what it is. I drink my water like a good girl and make endless trips to the loo like an old lady with bladder issues. I write on Facebook and play games on my phone. I go slowly and quietly mad.
This is my life. If I had any less sleep I could probably start hanging out with the gang from Twilight.
What’s the point of this post?? There isn’t one. I’m rambling. I’m making no sense I imagine. But you know what they say, misery loves company. If you’re awake in the night and reading this, at least you know you’re not alone!
To the rest of you… sweet dreams. Don’t take your sleep for granted and remember, a tiny part of me kinda hates you for your sleep pattern right now!!
By Jennie at This Little Life of Mine
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