I have been awake for about 36 hours straight.
I was awake and crying all night. Mindlessly clicking on the laptop.
Some nights my brain chemistry just rebels against my meds and refuses to respond as it should – by sleeping.
At least that’s what I thought.
Turns out Phil, who is usually so reliable, forgot to give me my evening meds.
I sit here now, waiting for today’s meds to kick in and give me just a little relaxation and a little relief.
But I am shaky and nervous.
I hate that at 47 I can’t be trusted with my own meds. That I don’t realise when I haven’t taken them and can’t remember if I did.
I want to scratch away my anxiety. Not the usual tiny repetitive scratches that gradually remove the top few layers of skin in one little spot. No, I want great raking movements. Top to toe.
Making my whole body sing with relief.
I hate the ways my body smells.
I want to shower, but if I do and then I eat, I will smell wrong again and need another shower.
So I wait.
Feeling more and more irrational.
Knowing that today , I am not ‘normal’. Hating myself for my inability to stop acting this way.
Soon, they will bring me some food. Then I can get ready to sleep.
Maybe take some zopiclone.
Maybe a diazepam.
Yes, definitely diazepam.
Without it, this skin won’t scratch itself off.