That was a really bad play on words, sorry. But I can’t help it, I just can’t come up with anything better. Why? Because I haven’t gotten any sleep at all. None, nada, zip, zilch, and all that jazz. Or should that be ‘none of that jazz’?

    I’ve been having problems sleeping for the past year, courtesy my not so lovely stalker friend and his cohorts aplenty. It seems to go in cycles, and right now I’m in what I like to call my Freaked Out Brain cycle. My mind is so hyped up on fear, anxiety, whatever you want to call it, that it has convinced my body that I’m not tired. I’ve been up for over 20 hours and I only feel vaguely tired. Around midnight I had a really nasty headache, so I even downed a couple narcotics (prescription, it’s legal, don’t worry). They put a dent in the headache, but there’s enough oomph in those pills that they should knock me out flat. Nope. Not even a whiff of sleepiness. It’s true what they say, the mind is a powerful thing. Man, I hate it.

    I know I’m loopy right now. Even though my mind and body swear I’m not tired, I can tell. I’m forgetful, I’m dizzy, I’m not really all-together aware of stuff. I really wish I could sleep, but no matter how hard I try, nothing. As soon as my head hits that pillow, it’s the most amazing thing; my heart speeds up, instantly my lungs react as if I’ve just run a marathon, and my brain moves into hyperdrive. Suddenly I remember a million and one things I forgot to do, or it recites entire stories to keep me occupied, or it oh so pleasantly reminds me of the last scary thing I saw on TV.

    Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a frightening monster. I wish it’d go away.