Meet In The Darkness

Sleep.

We all do it. We have to, without it we die^[1]

The body's time to recharge and repair, for the mind to wander and process the events of the day.

But for me sleep is terrifying. It's a time when the darkness I feel during the day becomes manifest. I have nightmares. Terribly real, terribly violent, terribly persistent nightmares. My doctor tells me it is a side effect of the medication, abnormal dreams it's called. Abnormal is right, here is nothing normal about what happens in my head every night. I have had nightmares before, most are common^[2] like being chased while I can only run in slow motion. Being lost. Falling. These dreams are not like that. They are more real, more visceral and they don't go away. I wake up frightened out of my wits. Sweating. With my heart racing and a scream on my lips ready to burst out of me. It takes a long time to calm myself down, to try and convince myself that it didn't happen. Then, as I relax and get control again I start to drift back to sleep, and they are waiting for me. The dreams wait for me like I have paused a video. It starts from where I left off, or worse replays the last horrific scene over and over. It can be difficult to drag myself out of these dreams. I fight clawing, bumping, spinning, confused and scared back to consciousness. It is taking its toll. I now avoid sleep. I haven't slept properly in weeks and I know that I can't maintain it.

I am so tired.

I have been prescribed anti-anxiety medication, but it made no difference. I'm not anxious, I'm scared - there is a difference. Anxiousness usually has no focus, there is no lion to run away from, no bogey man under the bed to beat with the poker^[3]. My being scared has a focus and it is the darkness of my dreams. Sleeping pills have been suggested but I am reluctant to take more chemicals to try and counteract the effects of other chemicals that I'm taking to address a chemical imbalance in my brain. I'm not a bloody chemistry set! I watched my father struggle with depression and anxiety most of my life. When it became too much for him he was put on to a regime of drugs that kept him quiet and controllable and stable. All good things but I also watched as the person that was my dear, sweet, funny dad drifted away from us for a very long time. He had the courage to fight back, to come off the mediations, many of which were highly addictive. He paid a terrible price for that calm exterior and he paid a heavy price for coming out the other side. I never asked him which was the greater or whether the price was too high, but my dad was back and I think that's what he wanted. He suffered for not being on the drugs, but I wonder if he suffered more for being on them. This is the only time in my life where I do not want to follow in my father's footsteps.

As for sleep, I had a good night last night. Best in probably the last month. I got five or six hours but my average is less, maybe three or four hours. But it's interrupted sleep. Often interspersed with long periods of panic followed by the fearful waiting until the weariness overtakes me and I fall, once more, into the abyss. I nap in the weekends. For some reason the light of day seems to keep the monsters out of my head. Maybe it's because of the chemicals, still fresh from the morning dose, swirling through my veins keeping the darkness in it's cage or perhaps the monsters just don't like the light. But I can't do that forever, I need to function during the week. So I go to bed early, probably earlier than most children. Falling asleep is no problem. Staying asleep is the problem. It is consuming my life one night at a time. I cannot stay awake to keep my wife company of an evening. If television is rubbish - and let's face it when is it not? - I can't even enjoy reading before I go to sleep. Reading is one of the great joys of my life. I love books and I always have a book on my night stand. I start to read but either my mind starts to think about the upcoming battle or my eyes start to close under the weight of my sleep debt. And so it goes on night after night. For how much longer I cannot say. I had hoped to discuss it with my psychiatrist but my appointment was cancelled. Apparently I'm sane now that I'm out of the mental health unit. So now I wait to talk to my doctor. And then I try and talk him out of chemical warfare.

What are the alternatives?

Ideas?

Suggestions?

Granny's old secret recipe for a good nights kip?

Any help gratefully received. I can't guarantee I'll try them but I would like to go to the doctor with some viable alternatives to turning me into the walking dead.

Please keep in mind that I will stay on my anti-depressant medication, so don't suggest that I stop that just yet. Tired is one thing, dead by my own hand is another.

Oh and by the way, before you suggest exercise, I have signed up at my work gym and start in earnest on Monday. Not only might this help with the sleep but it's now a prescribed treatment for depression. As well as being all healthy and shit.

Quote of the Day

All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.^[4]

Sources
1: Sleep Deprivation
2: Common Nightmares
3: Susan Sto-Helit - Hogfather - Terry Pratchett
4:: Plutarch