I remember a time when I slept like a "normal" person. My husband does, he hates when I keep him up, and here I sit at 6:49 am, been up all night again.
It actually wasn't even a bad night, not like the ones where you crawl,with your eyes crossed and a crazy glare, into a lukewarm tub hoping against hope the water will somehow stop the nerves from firing in random, rapid fire burst of agony. It wasn't the night where you twist and turn and are awake every 2 hours wishing, praying, swearing you will be better if the pain just fades and you can get some sleep.
Nope, it wasn't that kind of night at all, it was more, a wish my eyes were tired, wish my brain was tired, kind of night. And here I sit as dawn creeps up and through the cracks of my dark curtains, torturing the gentle soul, I know I was at some point in my life.
I think sleep deprivation makes you crazy, but I feel in charge somehow. I think it is in the knowing. Knowing the pain will come with the morning, knowing no matter how hard I try, this decrease in medication will continue to make me sick, and angry, and tired. But I also know at the end of the Road of Blackness, there may be a light, just a little one, and I will see who I was again.
Will I sleep, no, not now, but soon, until the shock of pain, sears my sanity on the open campfire of Chronic Pain..
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