It is Saturday morning, a day I wait for all work week. Going to bed Friday evening knowing that I do not have to get up at 530a the next morning somehow helps me come to terms with the chronic insomnia I have been experiencing the last few weeks. Every night over the last few weeks, I have stayed awake worried about things I cannot control. I tried all my stress reducing techniques; reading, listening to music, aromatherapy hot baths, green tea to no advail. Sometimes I would fall asleep only to awake a few hours later then fall back asleep again. Sometimes I would stay awake and stare at the clock as it ticked to 1a followed by 2a followed by 3a only to fall asleep a hour before the alarm went off. Sometimes the nightmares would come and I would awake too frighten to move. Last Sunday morning at 4a I broke my toe walking in the dark to the bathroom. Every day I wake up tired and pray I can make it through the work day. I refuse to take off or call out sick. Working is good for me. It keeps the depression at bay. As long as I move everyday, I can keep my head out above the dark vortex that tries to suck me down. Focusing on helping others, involving myself with my grandchildren, taking each step forward, I am able to survive this. Though, I am convinced that the constant stress will do me in one day. Headaches, stomach distress, chronic fatigue are a daily reminder that the stress and worry is running uncontrollable within.
I feel like the therapist needs a therapist however I am tired of talking about it so I remain silent and travel on. No one knows the pain I feel inside and no one will ever know it. I allow others to see what I want them to see. I am the great pretender. The core within is beaten down basically broken. I know I am still around because I either am not brave enough or I have to remain a strong constant for my sons and grandchildren. They are OK as long as I am OK. Again, the great pretender.
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