I have had trouble falling asleep, staying asleep, having restful sleep, etc., since I was 8 and had to see a psychiatrist and be put on meds in 3rd grade for it for a few years. I used to be afraid of what would happen if everyone else (my parents, my brother, the world) fell asleep and I was awake and couldn’t appeal to anyone for help or company. I’m less afraid of that these days, though that is kind of a metaphor for my larger fears. But I still can’t fucking sleep. Especially since the breakup, but, let’s face it, I wasn’t any champion sleeper before. Lately, I’ve been daydreaming about sleep. The kind where you are so desperate to get to your bed and are out the minute your head hits the pillow and you wake up 8-10 hours later feeling great. I haven’t had one of those in at least 4 months, maybe up to 6. I slept for 11 hours the other day, but I took some ativan before doing so and it wasn’t awesome sleep and I woke about 7 times during.

I’m going to start running for like an hour a day and reading for an hour before bed and being an adult to try to sleep. But where is the fun in that?