No sleep for the weary

I can't sleep. I used to be a fantastic sleeper and now...nothing. I am also not one of those people that can function on only 5-6 hours of sleep a night. I need at least 8-10 to feel like a normal human being. It started when we separated. I could. Not. Sleep. When I went to my family practitioner for anxiety, she also said that my Xanax prescription would help me sleep at night. For the first couple of weeks I was taking a half a pill every other night or so. It was about all I could do to make sleeping in the same bed as my a estranged husband that much less akward. And the more akward part- it was even harder to sleep when my estranged husband wasn't here.

The other night I had what felt like the longest, most realistic dream in the history of shitty fucking dreams. I woke up livid. I wanted to roll over and punch Jeff square in the face for the awful dream I had. But instead, I just laid there (lied there? this is why I need an editor) and listened to his snoring while I dissected every part of my nightmarishly realistic dream. It wasn't the kind of dream with monsters or bad guys chasing you- it was one of those dreams where every disgusting betrayal possible plays out before your eyes and you just stand there helpless, engulfed by the subconscious tricks your traitorous mind plays on you. 

Fuck you dreams. You have made it impossible for me to enjoy sleep. Not every night, but enough that it's making me crazy. Conversly, I have started reading again. Before our separation, I was a pretty voracious reader. I would devour 2-3 books a week. All craptastic smut, mind you. But at least I was reading, right? After I filed for divorce, I had no interet in reading anything involving happy couples and their sexual prowace or throbbing members. No thank you. I was so wrapped up in my own troubles that I didn't want to know there were happy, devoted couples out there- even if they were fictional characters. 

I downloaded my first book a couple days ago after taking 4 months off. I am sure my NOOK was confused when it powered on for the first time in what feels like forever. I don't resent the characters quite so much anymore. Mind you, it can be difficult to read about the deep devotion of these silly, emotionally stunted billionaire couples and their extreme first world problems, but it is a pleasant escape at 3 am when I can't sleep and I am tired of pinning things I will most likely never craft/cook/tattoo/wear. 

I am just glad that I am no longer  resentfully listening to my husband snore or worse, plotting how easy it would be to punch him in the face. He would never see it coming. Literally. It's dark. He doesn't have his contacts in. He is sleeping. Just lying there...vulnerable. Mwah hahahah...(insert evil laugh and hand wringing) I am kidding. Mostly. Apparently though, I may be very capable of that...when I had a very emotional night and one too many cocktails (soon after we first separated) things got a bit out of hand, or so I am told. I don't remember. Honestly, it scarred Jeff, and I am so extremely sorry that we ever let things get to that awful place. But, that is why we strive, every single day, to reclaim happiness, security and forgiveness. I just wish that with all this work, my mind would give it a rest already and let me get some fucking sleep. (why does it always autocorrect to "ducking"?? What the hell does ducking mean? No one is purposely trying to type "ducking". Oh, maybe like "the tall man was ducking beneath the doorway to get out of the rain". But really, I bet "fucking" is typed way more than "ducking" on the average day.) 

Clearly it's late (or very early morning) and I need to sleep. Wish me luck. I could really use some ducking shut eye. 

Xoxo